A Bad Boy for Christmas Read Online Free Page B

a talent in Mia worth cultivating.
    “He taught you traditional irezumi?”
    “No.” She’d be lying if she said that. “Modern form with some old techniques. I specialize in dragons, koi, tigers, snakes, cherry blossom and ukiyo, and I am always looking for canvas and to share techniques.”
    “I’ll think about it,” Beryl said, but there was interest there that the older woman couldn’t hide. Had Nash not been standing next to Mia she’d have had the job already.
    “And the holiday let?” Mia prompted. “Will you think about that?”
    “I will.” This time the woman’s sharp gaze encompassed Nash and slid to the classic car outside. “That your ride?”
    “Yes.” Nash said.
    “You restored her yourself?”
    “Yes. It’s what I do.”
    “Ever had anything to do with boats?”
    Nash held the older woman’s gaze, his expression closed. If Cutter was an open book, Nash was his opposite. Most of the time you had to pry him open with a sharp instrument. “No. Never had anything to do with the sea. Wasn’t born to it.” He looked to Mia. “I’m heading for the takeaway on the corner. You want anything?”
    “Fish and chips and lots of lemon. See you there in five. I want to admire Beryl’s designs first.” See if the older woman would let her take a closer look at the ink on her skin.
    He smiled a little grimly and the sound of bells accompanied him on his way out.
    “Does that boy know how to hold his own?” Beryl asked bluntly.
    “Yes.” Mia looked straight at this woman with the seashells and the surfboards and the eyes that had seen her share of hard road. “Jackson Nash—because that’s the name his mother gave him—can more than hold his own when need be.”
    “Jackson, is it? Jackson Nash?” Beryl huffed out a breath and stared after him. “Jesus.”
    “He’s not here to cause trouble,” Mia offered defensively. “That’s not his intent.”
    “Little girl, with that face in this town he won’t need to look for trouble. Trouble’s going to find him.”

Chapter Three

    F or a Tuesday night in a small seaside town, the pub sure did good business. The brasserie area could have comfortably sat three hundred and was three-quarters full. The front bar was smaller, but more crowded still. The pool tables out the back had a three game wait on them and the half-dozen poker machines were all being played. The brasserie where Mia sat boasted a wall of huge French doors that opened into the night, allowing customers to spill onto the open deck the better to see the bay.
    After having been mistaken for Cutter one too many times while sitting minding his own business, Nash had headed for the water. Mia had snagged a corner table for three and was busy taking full advantage of the pub’s free wi-fi when a shadow crossed her laptop and caused the screen to dim.
    A sixth sense told her who she would see, even before she looked up and confirmed it. “Well, if it isn’t the mysterious elder Jackson whose name escapes me. Possibly because you never mentioned it.”
    “Mind if I take a seat?”
    “Not at all. Maybe I’ll call you Bob. Or Jerry.”
    “If you want me to answer, you’d best call me Cutter.”
    Bingo.
    “Where’s your brother?” he asked next.
    “He went for a swim.” She scanned the brasserie. “Where are yours?”
    “Not here. I’m taking point on this one.” His gaze landed on her square and the heat was still there. “Are we blood?”
    Oh, yeah. That. What on earth had possessed her? Because there was no way.
    No way in this world she would wish that on them.
    “No.” Silently, she tracked his relief. “We’re not related by blood and I’m sorry I gave you that impression earlier. I didn’t like the way you were coming down on Nash. Figured you could use a diversion.”
    “You call pretending to be my sister a diversion ?”
    “It worked, didn’t it? Feel free to celebrate your loss.”
    He ignored her smart mouth, even if his gaze did skate across