Mind of Her Own Read Online Free Page B

shoulders. “Slip this on; it will cover enough to protect your virtue.”
    The jacket was warm from Collin’s body, and the heat relaxed Jazz in a way that made her feel safe. The exotic smell of spice and cedar surrounded her as she clutched the front together. “Thank you.”
    Collin held out his arm for her to grasp. He led her to the tiny mirror over the sink. Jazz found herself looking not at her familiar reflection, but at the woman from the picture. “My hair is shorter. And it’s not red.” She reached up to touch the foreign blonde locks.
    “It’s never been red, but you threaten to dye it at least once a month. And you cut it a few weeks ago; that’s why it’s shorter.” He reached for her hand to bring the photo next to her face, its image reflected beside hers in the mirror. He pointed to it. “Look at the grin and then compare it to yours. It’s you. You are Louisa.”
    She stared at the familiar face standing against the backdrop of an unfamiliar world. She felt the corners of her lips reach for the ceiling in an attempt to replicate the smile. Could I be her? The wallet felt heavy in her hand, and a few bills peeked over the edge, tempting her to find a way to take them. If he were so concerned about her, he could pay for a hotel room, at least for the night. But he didn’t offer and she didn’t ask. She gave him back his wallet, wishing for more options.
    She wouldn’t be in this mess if she had her BlackBerry with its vast lists of e-mail addresses and cell phone numbers of friends, but she didn’t. She considered going back to his house. At least she would have a place to stay tonight, and maybe in a few hours she would remember where she really lived.
    Still, he could be crazy. Convincing, but crazy. But where did he get the picture? The arguments for not going home with a stranger bombarded her already-overloaded brain. She decided only one thing could ease her mind. “Are you a Christian?”
    “What?” His eyes blinked fast as if processing each word letter by letter. The astonishment on his face didn’t offer her comfort. “I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that before.” He gazed past her head as if he would find the answer inserted between the upside-down E s on the eye chart behind her. “Yes. I am.”
    Not exactly the quick response she’d hoped for. But maybe she could trust the answer since he did take time to think about it. “I’ll go home with you for a while—until morning, anyway. If I decide to stay, you have to call me Jazz and hire a nanny. I don’t know anything about children.”
    “Great. Your stuff—”
    She glared at him.
    “Sorry, Louisa’s stuff is in here.” He retrieved a bag with the name Copeland emblazoned on the side with a thick black marker. He reached in and pulled out a pair of black-frame glasses. “Maybe you’ll recognize me if you put these on.”
    “Glasses? Am I losing my sight?” She held her hands in front of her face. She could see them fine, ten manicured fingers. With pale-pink nail polish? When did she stop biting her nails? And light pink? That had to come off.
    “You’ve worn glasses since the sixth grade.” He held them out to her. “You need them for distance.”
    She pushed them away from her. “No thanks. I don’t require them.”
    “Sure. This is one you’ll find out on your own soon enough.” He tossed them back into the bag. He pulled out a white cashmere sweater and some jeans and set them on the bed. “Why don’t you get dressed?”
    “But . . .”
    “I’ll wait outside. Don’t worry.” He left, closing the door behind him.
    She wondered if he was standing guard so no one would enter, or had he walked down the hall? It didn’t matter. Here was an answer to one of her problems. Clothes—not what she would choose, but they seemed to be her size. Tossing Collin’s jacket on the bed, she picked up the soft sweater and slid it over her head, then climbed into the jeans. She tried to wrap her