Rules of Re-engagement. Лорет Энн УайтЧитать онлайн книгу.
Manhattan. Tuesday, October 7.
She looked up into his eyes—unmistakable eyes—ice gray and crystal clear. They sliced into her like a laser, flaying her open right down to her soul. No other eyes could do that to her. She’d never, ever seen eyes quite like his.
It was Jack.
Olivia tried to swallow, tried to get a grip on what she was seeing right here in her apartment—Jack Sauer. Alive.
But he was older, harder, colder—with a vicious scar that sliced down the left side of his face, along the sharp angle of his cheekbone, down to his mouth. Curving his lips into a subtle, permanent—if sexy—sneer. It made him look dangerous.
It reminded her he was a felon, wanted by the FBI for the murder of her cousin Elizabeth. It reminded her he was supposed to be dead—killed by a grizzly in the Alaskan wilderness north of Mount McKinley.
And he was blocking her door—the only way out.
Her heart began to race. Fear whispered in the periphery of her mind. Her cell phone was in the purse that she’d just dropped to the floor. She was trapped.
Questions scrambled wildly over each other, tangling in her mind until she could hold no one thread straight. If he was alive, why had he not contacted her once in sixteen years? Why was he back now? Where had he been all this time?
“Jack…?”
“Jacques,” he said. “It’s Jacques Sauvage now. Jack Sauer died a long time ago, Olivia.”
She stared at him. This was impossible. Moose hunters had discovered his wrecked camp in the trackless Alaskan wilderness. They’d alerted rangers who had found ID, his books, clothes, his shotgun, spent shells—evidence of a grizzly attack. DNA had proved the blood in the camp was his. Rangers had said it looked like he’d wounded the bear before being dragged off himself.
“God, it’s good to see you again,” he whispered darkly as he touched the small gold locket at her throat, his fingers brushing her skin.
A jolt of sexual recognition ripped through her body so sharp, so fierce, and so totally inappropriate, that she gasped, tried to jerk back. But he tightened his grip, held her close.
“You kept it,” he said, lifting the pendant. “All this time, and you still wear it.”
Her eyes began to water. It really was him. One touch and her body was alive, responding to his, whether her mind followed or not.
“Wh-where have you been?” Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper.
His eyes burned into her, devouring her, sucking in every little detail he’d missed over the years. She felt as if he was stripping her, slowly, layer by layer, down to the naked core. Her heart pounded, her breath became light, her vision narrowed. Hot and cold swirled with fear through her stomach and laced with an aliveness so sharp it scared her.
“Time has been good to you, Olivia,” he said, his voice low, slow, his accent so seductively foreign. His eyes followed the curve of her breasts under her cashmere sweater. “Very good.”
Olivia swallowed. This was a man accused of murder. She didn’t know him anymore. She had no idea what he was capable of, what he’d become.
“Talk to me, Jack. Why are you back, what happened, where have you been all this time? What are you doing here in my apartment?”
He moved his hand from the pendant, stroked the curve of her neck, his skin rough against hers. Her knees went weak and her brain went completely blank.
He bent his head, his lips almost touching hers, his breath warm and soft as a feather. “I need your help,” he whispered. “It’s a matter of national security—” He sighed deeply. “Do you know how much I’ve missed you…how I’ve missed this…” He slowly pressed his lips over hers, covering her mouth completely. Heat melted her belly. Her breathing became ragged. She was incapable of pulling away.
He moved his lips gently over hers as he reached around her waist and slowly drew her body against his. He was giving her time to fight back, to jerk away. He was making this her decision as much as his. Yet she could feel his body shaking, his muscles straining to hold back the raging hunger that surged through him. He still wanted her, badly, and her body was burning in response to his.
The man she’d loved with all her heart was back in her arms. Holding her, kissing her, hard with need for her. Emotion imploded through Olivia. Tears burned her eyes, spilled freely down her cheeks, washing away the years. So many, many lonely nights, she’d dreamed that one day she’d feel his lips over hers, melt under his touch again. Suddenly nothing mattered but this moment.
Her thoughts spiraled into dizzying blackness as he increased the pressure on her mouth, filling her with his tongue, his movements growing rougher, harder, urgent, the salt of her tears mingling in their mouths as their tongues tangled and her heart twisted.
He tasted wild, foreign, dark—yet familiar. Her heart pounded. She leaned into him, opening to him, a raw hungry force driving her. She touched his face, guided him deeper, closer…and suddenly she felt the rigid line of his scar under her fingertips.
Reality exploded sharply through her brain. She stilled. She slowly traced the line along his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth. He felt the question in her touch.
“The bear,” he said simply, covering her hand, drawing it away from his face and pulling her back to him.
The bear that was supposed to have killed him.
This time she resisted. “No…no, Jack. Please…. I…I don’t know what just happened. I…I don’t want this.”
She forced herself to take a step back. He let her, his eyes watching her intently, arousal etched into his rugged features.
Her breaths were coming light and shallow. Her lips still burned. Her body was still hot, her hair a mess. She felt awkward, confused. And more than a little afraid—of him, of herself—of what had just happened.
“What…what do you mean, you need my help? And what about national security?” She nervously twisted the new ring on her finger as she spoke. “Does this have something to do with Grayson?”
His eyes followed her hands. When he saw what she was fiddling with, his expression changed instantly. A small muscle began to pulse at his jawline.
Olivia suddenly felt absurdly embarrassed to even be wearing the ostentatious cluster of diamonds. She had no intention of keeping it. The only reason she had it on right now was because she hadn’t had the guts to hurt Grayson’s feelings in front of all those people.
She covered the ring, pressed her hands against her stomach, trying to quell the tempest of emotions roiling inside her. Why should he be making her feel guilty? He was the one who had betrayed her. He was the one who left her. He let her think he was dead all these years. Why should she feel even vaguely compelled to explain why she was wearing Grayson’s ring?
He lifted her eyes to hers. “We have a lot to talk about, Olivia. May I come in?”
“You are in.” In more ways than one.
“I need you to invite me, Livie.”
She stared at him—powerful, deeply tanned, his dark hair cut aggressively short and shot through with the silver of time—and hurt filled her. In all these years he hadn’t bothered to let her know he was alive. He had destroyed her when he’d fled, he’d left her to bleed. He’d stolen her youth. And now here he was, standing very much alive and healthy in her hallway. Anger whispered quietly around her pain. And she let it come. She needed answers.
“May I come in, Olivia?” he said again.
She held her hand out to her apartment. “Sure. Please, come in. Please come back from the dead, Jack. Please walk right back into my life, into my home.” Tears threatened again. She blinked them angrily away. “Why don’t you come right in and mess with