Free Bridal Falls Ranch Ransom by Jan Hambright Page A

to want me. What man in his right mind would? My face is—”
    “Dammit, Eve.” J.P. winced; a surge of frustration circled through his body in a millisecond. “Is that what you think, that you’re damaged goods?”
    She looked up. Her blue gaze layered with pain so deep it mirrored the depths of the pool in front of them. His heart squeezed in his chest.
    “You don’t understand what it’s like to have your identity ripped from you. Everything I was is gone. Who could bear to look at me when I can’t stand to look at myself? Who could ever live with this?” Reaching up she slapped her palm against the side of her face, partially covering the ruddy patch of scar tissue stretching from her cheekbone all the way down the side of her neck.
    Sympathy lodged in his chest. Somehow he had to change her perception to make it match his. Going to his knees next to her, he reached out and pulled her into his arms.
    A shudder rocked her body. She tried to push away, but he held on to her, refusing to let go. “Everyone’s looks fade, Eve, by accident, by gravity. It’s what’s inside a person that matters. It took guts to defend yourself today. It took guts to fight through your ordeal next to that highway. Your will to survive is your strongest asset now. Use it.”
    Eve relaxed against him. It was hopeless to fight him; he was stronger than she was. Unconvinced, she let his words soak into her brain, but it was his nearness that acted like balm on her soul. How long had it been since anyone had spoken to her with any sort of reason?
    Her therapist? Sometimes. Her mother and stepfather? Once in a while. Thomas? Never.
    She closed her eyes for a moment, then pushed back and stood up. “Let me have a look at your arm.”
    He came to his feet and turned his left shoulder toward her. “It’s a flesh wound. Probably done bleeding by now.”
    “Good, because I need my veil back.”
    Slanting a look in J.P.’s direction, she saw a measure of defeat play across his features.
    “What? I’m not going to show my face to everyone. That’s my choice.”
    “You showed it to me.” He caught and held her gaze. A cord of attraction passed between them, locking them in its web.
    “You’re different.” Reaching out, she untied the knot holding the veil in place and worked to avoid his eyes. He had her on this one, but she wasn’t sure how to explain the new awareness circulating inside her. What did she feel?
    Trust? Yes. She trusted J.P. Ryker. With her life and her marred face. Of that she was certain.
    Freeing the veil from his arm, she dabbed at the shallow wound. “Any deeper, you’d be in serious trouble.”
    “Thank you, Nurse Ratchet.”
    Amused, she turned for the water and rinsed the blood out of the filmy fabric, then wrung it out and shook it free in the afternoon breeze.
    Grabbing her hat up off the flat rock, she secured the veil to it and positioned it on her head. She bent over, picked up the baggie of assorted pencils the gunman’s bullet had left untouched, straightened and shoved them in her back pocket.
    “I’m going to need your satchel for the evidence.” He motioned to the knife and her sketch pad.
    “Sure.” Eve reached down and picked up the bag.
    “Hold it open for a minute.”
    She watched him unfasten the button at his sleeve cuff, then work to pull the wet fabric down around his fingers.
    “What are you doing?” she asked.
    “Protecting evidence. The shooter had to have touched the handle of the knife. Maybe we can recover a print if he wasn’t wearing gloves.” Pivoting away from her, he turned his back.
    “Oh.” Heat rippled through her body as she watched him go to his knees. The fabric of his shirt pulled tight across the broad expanse of his upper back and shoulders, molding to every gorgeous layer of muscle.
    Her mouth went cake-flour dry. Annoyed with herself for staring, she turned her gaze on a focal point above him and tried to get her brain to