Free Caribbean Casanova by Jenna Bayley-Burke Page B

Harm.
    He’d said he’d been in pain, in hospitals, and she could only imagine what horrors had caused his state. She moved forward, glad she knew he’d come out of that dark place strong enough to conquer any demon, medical or otherwise. Yet he didn’t seem to heal, not through graduation photos or an event that found all three Prinsen brothers in tuxedos.
    Even the final picture, a more recent shot of him and his brother on Joe’s sailboat, didn’t show the Harm she knew. At least not the body. The domineering stare and powerful confidence shone through, and while his bare chest held definition, it wasn’t the brawn he now displayed. Even his hair seemed thinner.
    Like putting together a puzzle without the picture on the box to go by, every time she thought she had him figured out, it ended up that she had it upside down. He’d been through something, triumphed over some physical adversity that had her admiring him all the more.
    She’d stepped onto Anguilla thinking she knew all about Harmannus Prinsen thanks to his bullish playboy reputation. And he’d schooled her on just how wrong she’d been. She wanted to know him. Not just from morbid curiosity about what caused his sickly appearance and hospital stays, but how he’d overcome it. How he’d released the anchors that held him back and become such a powerful physical force.
    A pool of honeyed light spilled around the far corner. She stepped into it and turned and her eyes widened and breath stilled in her chest. She tilted her head back to take in the glorious sight and her cheeks lifted in a smile.
    Bookshelves towered to the two-story ceiling, the muted colors of thousands of book spines filling the space. A wood-paneled balcony wrapped around the room, a circular staircase providing access to the impossibly high shelves. The intricate coffered ceiling topped with a stained-glass dome had to be spectacular when the sun shone through it. The dark woods, giant library globe and marble fireplace filled with glowing candles transformed the modern Caribbean villa into a Victorian country estate ripped from her adolescent fantasies.
    So often she’d dreamed of a room like this, a place with more stories to tell than she could ever hope to enjoy. Every dark winter in Alaska she’d imagined keeping warm and entertained in a room half this grand. An old library card catalogue sat in one corner and she itched to peek inside every drawer.
    “Holly?”
    She jumped at the deep timbre of Harm’s voice and turned. He didn’t move from his perch on one of a pair of overstuffed chaises, a leather-bound copy of Huckleberry Finn in his hand. A bare-chested hunk of a man reading the classics in the library of her dreams. He was a nerd girl’s wet dream.
    “Do you need something?” He slid a ribbon between the pages and set the book on the pedestal table beside him. She stepped onto the ornate Oriental rug and neared him, noticing the inlay on the table.
    “Is that a chess table?” Her fingers were on the patterned wood before he could answer, nervous energy giving her hand a slight tremor. “I’ve always wanted one of these. Preferably set up with a game I play with a pen pal in another country. Can I open the drawer?”
    “Be my guest.” He turned towards the table and braced his elbows on his hard thighs. Amusement danced in his deep I-know-why-you’re-really-here brown eyes.
    She sat across from him and pulled open the drawer, spying the intricate wood pieces, taller and thinner than the typical Staunton set. She plucked a bishop from his velvet recess.
    “Did you come up here for a game?”
    “What?” She replaced the piece and shut the drawer. “No, I don’t play well. In my family I’m a grandmaster, but when I went to college I realized that I’m not a great loser. Are you good?”
    “Very.” His dark gaze caught hers and a shiver of anticipation danced down her spine. She doubted they were still talking about chess.
    She spread her palms