The Gift Read Online Free

breath hitched. The transformation from cynic to charmer caught her off guard. Mr. Sex Appeal from the highway had returned with some to spare. She had to struggle for her composure. This guy had more mood swings than Jekyll and Hyde. She had to watch more than her back around him.
    “Does that grin mean yes?” she finally asked.
    He nodded and swung toward the door. “Let’s get on with this.”
    “Good. We’re on the same side here.” Beth followed him down the staircase and outside. The sky had turned a leaden shade.
    He paused on the stone steps leading to the sidewalk and faced her. “That remains to be seen, Miss Dearborn.”
    “ Ms. Dearborn, or just Dearborn.” She flashed a smug smile. “We both want the truth. Right?”
    He pinned her with a steely stare. “Yep.”
    “Then we’re on the same side.”
    “My truck’s right there.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
    Normally she preferred the independence driving her own car afforded, but the way it had been running—and without a spare—she didn’t want to risk it. Beth followed him down the steps and opened the passenger door, amazed to find a Southern man who didn’t race ahead to do it for her. Should she be insulted?
    Get a grip, Dearborn.
    The powerful engine rumbled to life and he backed out of the parking space. “I don’t know what you expect to find at the house,” he said quietly, tuggingthe brim of his hat lower over his brow. “Sheriff never found anything.”
    “Maybe nothing.” Beth gazed at the passing countryside. “Then again, maybe he missed something.”
    “It’s been seven years.” He shot her a sidelong glance. “We’ve cleaned a time or two.”
    He’s nervous. Beth made a mental note to keep an eye on Ty Malone. Actually, it was damned hard not to keep an eye on him. He looked good enough to eat.
    Too long without some good, old-fashioned, bonecrunching sex. She let her gaze drift downward to where his belt buckle rested above slim hips and other very male equipment. Yep, and long is the operative word here. Heat flashed through regions of her body that should have been disengaged during business hours. Beth drew a deep breath and dragged her gaze away from the rippling muscles in his forearms as he steered the truck away from town.
    She needed to maintain her perspective, and his good looks were distracting. “Why are you so convinced your wife is dead, Mr. Malone?”
    He peered at her again from beneath the brim of his hat. “I know she’s dead.”
    “Ah, yes, that’s right.” Beth remembered his comments when he’d first confronted her. “You believe she’s dead. Why? ”
    “Like I said, I don’t believe she’s dead.” He kept his gaze straight ahead. “I know she’s dead.”
    “You saw her die?”
    He cleared his throat. “No.”
    “Then why do you insist your wife is dead?”
    He slowed the truck, turned onto a dirt road, andstopped. Draping both large hands over the steering wheel, he half turned to face her. With the tip of his finger, he tilted his hat back off his brow, again revealing those incredible eyes. “I know, because Lorilee never would’ve left her babies. Anyone who really knew her will tell you that.”
    “Anyone?” From what she’d read in the newspaper, Beth wasn’t so sure. She made a few more mental notes about Malone. Stubborn as hell. However, she had to admire his conviction. Or was it acting? “Without proof, it’s still just your belief, Mr. Malone,” she said steadily. “What we need are facts.”
    Or a body…
    “Facts like that bogus letter her father got?”
    “Now that you mention it.” Beth smothered her grin. He’d played right into that one.
    “Lorilee didn’t write that letter.” Malone’s voice was flat.
    “Who did?”
    “I don’t know.” He faced her, and his expression seemed sincere. “But I do know this—”
    “What?”
    “Whoever wrote that letter knows what happened to my wife.”
    Beth held his gaze