[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Clean, finished and non-musty despite all the recent rain, the first and largest room seemed a natural
extension of the house, and easily three times the size of hers. Or, what hers used to be. It even had its own
separate entrance into the backyard.
When he waited for her to proceed, she moved forward, past the workout equipment to the wooden
workbenches. She thought she d seen something familiar.
 Little Jeffrey! She rushed forward. Her beloved puppet sprawled, broken but recognizable, in the
middle. Around him were the other marionettes she d been able to grab yesterday.  How in the world& ? I
thought we left him behind. How did you find him?
 Same way you found this. Harry held up the purse she d left sitting on the end of the workbench.  I
went back into a certain dangerously unstable house last night. There are more still down there that don t
appear to be buried too badly, but I figured you d want that one right away.
Gratitude and awe coursed through her, leaving a pleasant warmth behind. He d gone back after she d
fallen asleep, probably. His stamina astonished her, even as his thoughtfulness made her heart warm.
 Harry, she said, letting her affection, her admiration, color his name.  Thank you.
His eyes sparkled in the basement s dimmer light. He handed her the purse.  Don t mention it.
www.samhainpublishing.com 43
Christina Crooks
 But I want to. She reached up to cup his face the way he had hers earlier.  You re so sweet.
Looking into his eyes, she could feel herself falling for him, a tugging ache in her heart that made her
want to cook him something, or maybe have his babies. But something had scarred him in his past, and she
was pretty sure it probably had to do with a relationship. So she just gently patted his cheek.
 That picture, upstairs. Does it have anything to do with why a handsome, heroic specimen such as
you is living in this big house all by yourself?
Harry lifted her hand from his chin, fully extending her arm. He kissed her knuckles, once. A gallant
gesture before he turned toward the workbench and took a few steps.
Her hand tingled. She followed in his wake.
And what a nice-smelling wake it was too. She knew from his clothes that he didn t dig ditches for a
living as if the big fancy house wasn t enough clue to his white-collar employment but his clean, musky
male scent confirmed it. Maybe it was pheromones. His scent attracted her more than cologne ever had.
Intriguing, gallant, sensitive, good-smelling, fabulous lover& If she weren t careful, she d get her
heart broken. He d warned her of the possibility, since he wasn t looking for a relationship.
He must ve been in a very bad relationship. Worse than hers, even.
She approached the smooth wood where her marionette lay, her hands almost automatically clearing
the tangles from the strings and taking in the extent of the damage. Bad, but not irretrievable.
Harry watched her hands.
She would need tools, glue, rags, paints& most of her supplies, really, but the damage wasn t as bad
as she d feared. She could scavenge an arm from Odie, a little-used boy puppet, and at least replace that
crushed limb.
She worked and talked at the same time.  So. Who was she, and what s the deal with that ugly
painting?
 As you surmised, the two are related. His lips thinned. Disapproval. Distaste for the woman, the
artwork, or both?  I managed to get involved with the most conniving, lying gold-digger on the entire West
Coast. Worse, I offered to marry her.
Ginnie glanced at his ring finger.
 Oh, we didn t get to the altar. Almost but not quite. Thankfully not quite. But you wanted to know
about the painting.
She wanted to know about everything. Absolutely everything there was to know about the fascinating
man.  Uh-huh. Her hands continued to work as she listened carefully.
 Jaye Rae lays waste wherever she goes. She s beautiful, of course. Honey-tongued. Talented at the
art of being arm candy. Not so good at oil painting, which was her hook. A passionate artiste  Harry
pronounced it  arteest with such contempt that Ginnie froze for a moment  in search of a real man who
44 www.samhainpublishing.com
Hands On
could understand her unique artistic temperament. So needy. So controlling. Anyway, Harry continued,  it
was a long time ago.
When Ginnie glanced at him, she could see the muscles in his shoulders all bunched up. He looked at
his watch.
 But what happened? she asked quickly, before he made an excuse to leave. He didn t want to talk
about it, obviously, but he needed to. She knew. Plus she was dying to hear what happened.
He paused, then answered, his voice clipped.  Long story short, she was an actual artist like I m a
bunny rabbit. She painted her contempt for art, and called it art. There was a period of time after she moved
in that this whole space down here was supposedly her studio. She d come down sometimes to keep up the
deception. Painted crappy pictures with the help of pre-numbered templates. I kept one of them after she
left.
Ginnie waited, but when no more info was forthcoming, she nudged him with her elbow. Her puppet
bobbed with the movement.  And?
 And what? She moved out. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]