True Lies Read Online Free Page B

now—but she still felt responsible for him. Oh, he knew perfectly well how to pull her strings. For his own good, she had been trying to wean him away from her support to force him to grow up and stand on his own feet. Was she being too harsh? The nightmare of their youth had affected Simon far deeper than her, perhaps because she’d been too busy trying to hold the family together. She hadn’t had the chance to indulge in helplessness or self-pity or dependence.
    No, she wouldn’t let herself criticize her brother. He had his faults, but basically he was a loving, warm person. Once he gained some self-confidence and learned to take responsibility for his actions, things would be different. Maybe his new interest in prospecting would put him on the right track. Perhaps she shouldn’t have refused him outright. She might have worked out a way to help...
    “Oh, just stop it,” she muttered to herself. She strode to the corner that served as her kitchen and snatched the coffeepot off the stove. Pouring herself another cup, she tried to focus her energy on the day ahead.
    Simon had been right about her not needing the money from these tourist fishing charters. But there was so much more to life than money. She loved to fly and she welcomed the excuse to spend a day fishing. Above all, she still got a kick out of the pocket change that she didn’t declare on her tax return—after what she and her family had endured in the name of law and justice, she had little respect for rules.
    A beam of light swept across the front of the bookshelves. Emma twisted around in time to see Bruce’s van bump past the crest of the hill and pull to a jerky stop in front of her garage. Gears ground loudly in the predawn hush before the engine shuddered to silence.
    He drove as awkwardly as he walked.
    She hadn’t forgotten the strange reaction that had followed his touch. How could she? Yesterday she had tried to convince herself that the momentary awareness had to have been a fluke. Or an hallucination. But there was no denying the flutter in her stomach as she heard the loud creak of the van’s door.
    A thud, followed by a metallic clatter heralded Bruce’s arrival at her front step. She paused to fortify herself with a gulp of scalding coffee before she went to answer his timid knock.
    “Hi,” Bruce said, moving well back from the doorway. He ducked his head, glancing at the pile of gear at his feet. “I hope I'm not too early.”
    She scrutinized his slouched form. There was nothing in the least appealing about his appearance today. If anything, his baseball cap was grimier, his coat was baggier and his shoulders more rounded. She waited until he raised his eyes. Instead of glowing with intensity, his gaze slid harmlessly off hers as he ducked his head again to fumble with his camera.
    Could the flash of masculine strength that had surprised her yesterday have been a figment of her imagination? She sipped another mouthful of her coffee. The awkward, sloppy man in front of her definitely wouldn’t be the type to inspire a woman’s attention. And yet...there was something about him. She could sense it now, as if touching him yesterday had triggered some weird undercurrent. She felt it, the way steel senses a magnet.
    “Sorry about the mess here,” he said, stooping over to retrieve the contents of his tackle box. “I, uh, tripped over the step somehow.”
    Emma studied the hard profile that was etched against the pearly dawn. His nose was long and narrow, with a subtle bump in the center. Like the jaw that she could barely glimpse beneath that awful beard, his nose looked boldly masculine. Even with the extra weight he carried, his features, what she could see of them, were well-defined. If it wasn’t for his poor posture and the vacant, ingratiating expression he wore, he would look entirely different.
    Curiosity stirred. And interest, simple feminine interest. Thoughtfully, she stole another glance at Bruce’s profile before