Explosive (The Black Opals) Read Online Free

of his throat. Wide blue eyes looked up from a freckled face that flushed with a touch of embarrassment. As he skittered sideways out of Jayce’s way, all lanky knees and elbows, sense broke past the thick fog of desire and slammed into Jayce. This was why he couldn’t get tangled up in Alyssa.
    Ten years ago they were planning a family. He’d left to start their new life in Chicago. Then she phoned, left a message on his answering machine, informing him she wasn’t coming and the baby was no more. No more. Damn it!
    Ten years, and not once had she apologized. Not once had she phoned to explain.
    Not one fucking time had she told him what happened to their baby. Had she aborted it? She’d been terrified about what parenthood and marriage would do to her future. It wasn’t out of the range of possibility. But not tell him? Damn it—he’d had a right to raise his child.
    Had she miscarried? If so, why did she block him out?
    Entering the gas station with far less fire in his gut, Jayce cut a direct course to the liquor cooler, grabbed a six-pack, and headed for the counter. So many times he’d tried to make himself hate her. He ought to. Tonight he should have demanded answers instead of entertaining uncontrollable desire.
    But no matter how he tried, he couldn’t force his heart to let her go. Couldn’t find sense amongst the nonsensical. Nor could he deny the shameful truth that if she’d just let him in, just explain what had gone so drastically wrong, it wouldn’t take much to find forgiveness.
    “Twelve-fifty-seven,” the cashier announced.
    Jayce fished out a twenty and tossed it on the counter. He made no attempt at small talk. His mind was too tied up to consider politeness.
    Pocketing his change, he returned to his truck and backed out of the parking lot. He drove more cautiously to Jordan’s, chewing on the sudden, unexpected change in his circumstances. The jostling bottles in the passenger’s seat sang of escape. A siren’s song he, unfortunately, knew all too well.
    He was doing it again. Retreating to that place where feeling couldn’t register with the aid of fermented hops. He couldn’t possibly hope to hold onto his career as an operative while locked inside that dark, fathomless pit.
    In front of Jordan’s townhouse at last, he shut off the engine and stared at the brown paper sack. Tempting. So damned tempting. He could go to bed without the incessant questions, without the never-ending ache inside his chest.
    Jerking the sack off the seat, he exited the truck and made a beeline to the dumpster, where he dropped the unopened bottles inside. Glass shattered as they hit the steel bottom. Foam bubbles fizzed.
    If he weren’t in Boulder, if he were drinking over anything but Alyssa, he’d indulge. Alyssa, however, possessed an uncanny ability to strip away every ounce of control he owned. As bad as it would suck confronting sleep tonight, he’d be better off in the long run.
    Preoccupied, he inserted his key in Jordan’s door and let himself inside. In seconds, the high-pitched beep announced the triggered alarm. “Damn it!” Spinning toward the keypad, Jayce fumbled with the code.
    “Here, I’ll get it.” A tiny hand pushed his aside and deftly punched in the right combination. When she finished, Jordan flashed him a smirk. But one look at his expression, and her eyes went wide. “Whoa, you look like hell. Where have you been?”
    “I don’t want to talk about it.” Shedding his suit coat, he cut a path across her spacious living room to the oversized couch in front of a stone hearth. To his consternation, she followed on his heels and took a chair opposite. Intent on blocking Jordan out, Jayce folded his arms behind his head, stretched his legs out, and closed his eyes.
    “Jayce.” Censure sharpened her voice.
    “Leave me be, Jordan.”
    “Um. No. Don’t think so. Tell me, and give my mind something else to work on other than Jasmine’s crazy wedding and her even crazier