want to go another ten years without seeing her again.
The wary blue eyes, almost baby blue. That wavy, shoulder-length, deep auburn hair that he ached to run his fingers through. The way her jeans balanced on her hips, giving him the tiniest glimpse of bare pale stomach as the edge of her long-sleeve T-shirt shifted around. He wanted to know more. To talk with her. To dig and see what had her on edge.
He guessed he’d trace most of her problems right back to his father. Carter had no idea what had her spooked or what game his father was playing, but something bigger than an envelope was happening here.
Carter took it out and studied it. No writing or clue to the contents. It was killing him not to rip it open. If he didn’t have an answer in a few days, he would. Until then, he could respect her privacy...but barely.
Jackson sighed into the phone. “Does this have something to do with your highly problematic father?”
“Doesn’t everything? Talk to you soon.”
Carter hung up before Jackson could complain or swear. He glanced up at Hanna’s studio a second time. “It looks like I’m not going anywhere just yet.”
Hanna decided to get away. Not forever. Just long enough for the Jamesons to find another target. Her job was a temporary solution anyway. She cleaned houses and businesses. Worked part-time in the coffee shop. She could take time off but she had to do it without pay, which sucked. That choice would be a financial struggle but going round and round with the Jamesons could cost her the equilibrium she’d been fighting to gain ever since her sister’s death.
For the hundredth time, Hanna wondered if she should have just taken the money Eldrick offered her months ago to stay away from Carter. She’d tried to find Carter back then, and then the stay-away letters started. Then came the bribe.
The cash would have made rebuilding her life much easier. Saying no just made Eldrick double down on the threats of attorneys and lawsuits if she came near his family or talked about them with anyone. He thought it was her job to keep his family secrets.
Man, she hated the Jamesons and how they turned everything upside down. Irrational or not, that hate extended to all Jamesons...even, admittedly to a lesser degree, to the one she used to stare at as he played football on the lawn with his brothers. The one who turned her into a babbling fool every time he smiled at her.
Back then, of course. She was wiser now.
She dunked the mop in the murky water with a bit too much force. The wheels under the bucket spun around. Before she could catch it, the bucket tumbled and smacked into the coffee counter, sending the dirty water spilling over the sides.
Apparently, it was going to be that kind of day.
She sighed as she balanced the mop handle against the edge of the counter and wiped her hands on her faded blue jeans. A tingle at the base of her neck had her glancing up and turning around. The shadow moved in the glass front door of Morning Grind, the coffee shop she cleaned to offset part of the cost of her rent upstairs. Her breath hitched as the face came into view.
Carter.
Of course it was.
It was five in the morning and still dark outside, but she could see every inch of that amazing face. Watch his shoulders lift as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, likely trying to fight off the punishing cold that had settled in early this year, or so the locals told her.
She should let him freeze. Let him form a big Jameson ice cube right there on the sidewalk.
So tempting. But that would just give his father a reason to breeze into town, blaming and threatening her about something new.
She wiped her hands on her jeans again. This time not to dry them off but to beat down the nerves jumping around inside her. A strange mix of wariness and excitement hit her the second Carter pinned her with a crooked smile.
No wonder her sister had gotten reeled in. If the gossip site stories about him were true, a lot of women had trouble saying no to the guy.
Maybe the whole turning-otherwise-smart-women-into-giant-puddles-of-goo thing was an inherited skill. A family trait of some sort. If so, she needed to get over the affliction and fast.
Her hand shook as she turned the lock and opened the door a fraction. “What?”
“You need to work on your welcoming tone.” He grumbled something under his breath before talking at normal volume again. “I was hoping you’d be a bit happier to see me this morning.”
“Since you seem determined to stalk me, no. For the record, I’m not into that.” Or being unsure or off-kilter or vulnerable. None of those feelings worked for her, even though they all raced through her now as she tried not to notice how the wind brought a sexy rush of color to his cheeks.
“I wanted to apologize for just dropping in on you last night.”
Sure he did. “By dropping in on me this morning.”
The corner of his mouth lifted even higher, showing off that arresting smile. “Now that you mention it, I guess this visit wasn’t all that well thought-out either.”
She studied him, letting her gaze wander over that mouth before giving him full-on eye contact. The cute, self-deprecating act held a certain charm, but she knew it was just an act. No longer a carefree boy, he was a man who possessed power and money. In her experience, the Jamesons used both of those as a weapon against others.
Then there was the more obvious problem. “How did you know where to find me at this time of the morning?”
His mouth opened and closed twice.
She cleared her throat. “I’m waiting.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
She knew stalling when she heard it. Heck, she excelled at that sort of thing. He couldn’t fool her. “Feel free to use words.”
He made a strangled noise that sounded like hmm. “I’m going to be honest with you.”
“That would be nice.” Not that she’d believe whatever he said, but it would be interesting to see what subterfuge he tried to use on her.
He unzipped his coat, just enough for her to see the V-neck of the blue sweater underneath. “I had a friend back at the Jameson office look into you.”
Look into? Creative word choice. “You mean, investigate me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
That was kind of her point. “So, you had one of your employees not investigate me.”
“I don’t actually work for Jameson Industries.”
“Uh-huh.” It was as if he didn’t know his own last name or for some reason thought the verbal gymnastics would work on her. Either way, she wasn’t buying it. “I often call up places where I don’t work and get people to scurry around, looking
