Wooing Jack’s Sister

Here’s a sneak peek into Wooing Jack’s Sister a Romantic Suspense Mystery by Ruby Mohan retailing at AMAZON.COM

The shadows moved, then converged and then dissolved. The man was a part of the darkness that seemed to gray around him. He was the darkest core. Opaque, still and expressionless.

He was the same man she met when there were people around her. Yet the man who stood watching her frozen in the driveway was a stranger. He had never shown himself to her like this before.

Then her conscious mind took charge scolding her for her fantasies. What rubbish, you have known this man all your life.

But another voice screamed caution and she wanted to run.

“Tory,” his voice shattered the unnatural stillness.

She took a deep unsteady breath trying to quiet the thunder of her racing heart. His voice sounded the same.

She nodded hoping that would do for acknowledgment. She did not trust her voice to be audible if she spoke or she might just start screaming.

His eyes were alien. They were like black shards.

His hostility was not an imagined thing. She felt it radiating from him in waves. Why did his voice still sound the same?

“Are you planning to walk home?”

She could not lie. From where he stood he would have seen Tom and her kiss. He would have seen her leave Tom standing…

She nodded again. Her breath escaped in a sharp exhale when she recollected that he had seen her kiss Tom.

“Let us walk together.” He waved a hand telling her she was to precede him and she followed his direction. As she reached up to him he fell in step beside her.

“Did you not drive here tonight,” she asked as her mental faculties began to function again.

“I did. However it is a beautiful night and since you are walking alone I have decided to join you.”

“Of course it never occurred to you to inquire whether I wanted you to join me,” the bitter words spilled out of her mouth on their own volition.

He chuckled- an aged brandy sound that warmed her inside filling in empty spaces driving out the chills.

“Are you cold?” His sharp eyes missed nothing.

“No,” she tried to keep the breathlessness out of her voice.

He chuckled again, “damme but I had no clue Tom Sheppard could make a woman shiver with his kiss.”

Sexual awareness hit her nostrils on a swift indrawn breath. She wanted to rake his face with her acrylic nails. She wanted to kiss him and make him moan. She wanted…

“Cat got your tongue? This certainly has to be a first. If I had known his kiss had such an impact I would have asked Tom to kiss you…”

“At least Tom knows I am a woman,” she shouted, years of hurt and rejection breaking through the dam.

“As opposed to who?” He inquired calm as ever.

Nothing surprising about it. All their fights were on the same pattern. She flushed and breathless screaming like a banshee and he icily calm and polite. Not a hint of emotion animated his controlled frame.

Maybe a pained expression when she used a cuss word.

He was waiting expectant and she had no clue what he was asking about.

She frowned, “what are you talking about?”

“You just told me- At least Tom knows I am a woman! So, I am asking as opposed to whom? Kindly translate this as who is the fellow who does not know you are a woman?”

She stared at him for a blank minute then started to smile. She hastily turned away biting her cheek to stop the smile from showing even as she lengthened her stride.

They walked on in silence. It was an uphill ascent. A car or two buzzed by but they did not get much traffic this time of the night through the neighborhood.

The serenity of the night slowly unwound their tension.

Tory looked up at the crescent moon and let the rays bathe her face in light.

“I know you are a woman, Tory. Just as I know you are the author who has refused to sell the movie rights of her book to me just as I know you lied to Jack about the letter Thaddeus gave you.”

He caught her by the elbow in a cruel grasp.

The pressure of his hand on her arm hurt.

“Are you trying to tell me something by hurting my arm? Should I translate this to mean beware I am capable of hurting you?”

She stopped and glared pointedly where he held her.

He did not relax his hold.

“You are an intelligent woman,” he said calmly, conversationally as if they were discussing the weather.

“Then know this that I do not care much for intimidation.” She bit her words out.

“Tory your book is your own decision but the letter concerns my father.”

He was making an effort. She saw the pain and the frustration. Lines on his broad forehead furrowed deep and she could see the exhaustion in his dark eyes. Her fingers itched to caress the fine skin of his lean, angular face.

“Someone tried to hurt my dad and if you are trying to protect Grant Morgan I will…”

She froze.

“You will what Magnus,” she was reckless consumed by a blazing anger, “what will you do to me Magnus?” She punched him with her free hand, hard, on the chest.

All the tenderness was gone replaced by an urgent desire to pound him into a pulp. It was like hitting a rock wall.

“Tory don’t,” Magnus reached and grasped her other arm holding both hands captive.

She squirmed in his hold looking down at her feet and he knew she meant to kick him next. The she-cat.

He moved with an agility that took her by surprise. She found herself lifted off the ground, pinned by the arms between a hard tree trunk and his strong muscular frame.

“Now will you tell me,” he inquired in a cold, furious voice.

Her senses had not lied. Magnus Fleming was feeling very hostile towards her.

“The page was blank Magnus,” she whispered hoping he would believe her lie.

He pressed closer and she could feel the tree bark digging between her shoulder blades through the thin black silk dress she wore. She was hanging in the air utterly at his mercy and battered by the wave of sexual attraction she always tried to deny.

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