Free Relentless Adversary by Jayne Castle Page A

glove.
    How could a risk be called calculated when one didn't even begin to know how to estimate the chances involved?
    She glared at her image in the mirrored wall of the large bathroom, automatically ripping loose the braided coil at the back of her head. An idiot. That was what she had been. But what alternative had she really had?
    Her fingers ripped through the braid until the waist-length hair hung down her back. She bundled it into a towel and stepped over to the shower. There was no sense worrying about the past, she decided with characteristic resolution as she moved under the hot spray. What was done had been done, and unless she wanted to undue what good had been accomplished, she had to keep Helen from discovering the truth. Helen would be brokenhearted if she learned her own son had been so weak. . . . .
    But even as she accepted the knowledge that she was stuck with the situation she had created, Kelly's churning thoughts went to the man she had left at the foot of the stairs.
    He'd discovered her secret and had told her the terms for which he would sell his silence. Could she afford them?
    And why? Why was he so determined to marry her?
    She didn't believe for one moment that he had fallen in love with her. Even if he had, the knowledge of her un-scrupulous maneuvers with the computer should have been enough to kill such a delicate thing as four-day-old love!
    But he hadn't seemed greatly concerned with the possibility of her being an embezzler, she thought wretchedly, turning off the water and reaching blindly around the corner of the shower stall for one of the huge chocolate-brown towels.
    There had been no genuine implication that he felt torn about his duty to report her to Helen. Kelly bit her lip, considering that carefully as she toweled dry and unwrapped her hair. In the steamy mirror she regarded her ghostly nude image, hair streaming down her back, and wondered what sort of man didn't blink an eyelid about discovering that the woman he wanted was potentially larcenous in character.
    Because he thought he could control her illegal bent? Or because his own scruples weren't particularly strong in the first place?
    That last wasn't a cheerful thought. An honest Locke Channing was dangerous enough. A dishonest one didn't bear contemplation!
    She glanced around the long counter that housed the twin washbasins, absently noting the neat array of masculine toiletries. Locke might have been casual in his attire, but his house was surprisingly orderly. For an instant Kelly wondered what it would be like to have her own things sitting beside his on that counter.
    Abruptly she turned away, the brown towel wrapped around her body and knotted at the breast. She would have to start marshaling her thoughts for the coming encounter. If Locke Channing was serious about marriage, for whatever reason, she was going to have a rough time talking him out of it. He knew he had a solid threat to use against her.
    Her forehead knitted in a frown of concentration, Kelly opened the bathroom door and started into the bedroom, glancing toward the quilt where her jeans and blue velour top lay waiting. The lacy underwear was stacked on top of the velour and she reached for it automatically.
    The scrap of a bra was in her hand and her fingers had gone to the knot of the towel when he moved and she saw him standing quietly beside the door.
    "Locke!"
    The sight of him waiting in the shadowy area to one side of the room was enough to bring out his name in a voice that almost squeaked with startled anxiety.
    "I came for your answer, Kelly."
    The words were unequivocal, their tone telling her he would accept only one response.
    She stared at him, her stunned mind absorbing the implications of the fact that he was wearing only a pair of tight-fitting jeans. His chest was bare and he hadn't bothered to put on any shoes. The gun-black hair was still damp from the shower. He looked like the dark warlock he was, and Kelly shivered.
    "What do