Free A Matter of Choice by Nora Roberts Page A

now? Why all of a sudden?" She stopped the nervous movement of her hand and studied him. "You never even hinted that you had any feelings for me other than affection."
    "Do you know how hard it's been," he asked quietly, "contenting myself with that? Jessica, you weren't ready for my feelings. You've been so wrapped up in making a success out of the shop. You needed to make a success of it. And I wanted to build up my own part of it before I asked you. We both needed to be independent."
    It was true, all that he said. And yet how was she to suddenly stop seeing him as Michael, her friend, her associate, and see him as Michael, her lover, her husband? "I don't know."
    He squeezed her hand, either in reassurance or frustration. "I didn't expect you would so quickly. Will you think about it?"
    "Yes, of course I will." And even as she promised, the memory of a violent embrace on a windy beach ran through her mind.
    In the late hours the phone rang, but it didn't wake him. He'd been expecting it.
    "You've located my property?"
    He moistened his lips, then dried them again with the back of his hand.
    "Yes... Jessica took the desk home. There's a small problem."
    "I don't like problems."
    Cold beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. "I'll get the diamonds out. It's just that Jessica's always around. There's no way I can take the desk apart and get them while she's in the house. I need some time to convince her to go away for a few days."
    "Twenty-four hours."
    "But that's not--"
    "That's all the time you have... or all the time Miss Winslow will have."
    Sweat coated his lip and he lifted a trembling hand to wipe it away.
    "Don't do anything to her. I'll get them."
    "For Miss Winslow's sake, be successful. Twenty-four hours," he repeated. "If you don't have them by then, she'll be disposed of. I'll retrieve my property myself."
    "No! I'll get them. Don't hurt her. You swore she'd never have to be involved."
    "She involved herself. Twenty-four hours."
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Chapter 4
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    Jessica had no answers. Alone, she sat on the beach, chin on her knees, and watched the early sun spread streaks of pink above the water. Yards away, Ulysses chased the surf, bounding back to the shore each time it turned on him. He'd given up on the idea of conning Jessica into tossing sticks for him.
    She'd always liked the beach at sunrise. It helped her think. The screech of gulls, the pound of water against rock, the burgeoning light, always calmed her mind so that an answer could be found. Not this time.
    It wasn't as if she'd never considered marriage, sharing a home, raising a family--but she'd never had a clear picture of the man. Could it be Michael?
    She enjoyed being with him, talking to him. They shared interests.
    But... oh, there was a but, she thought as she lowered her forehead to her knees. An enormous but. And he loved her. She'd been blind to it.
    Where was her sensitivity? she wondered with a surge of guilt and frustration. How could a thing--a business--have been so important that it blocked her vision? Worse, now that she knew, what was she to do about it?
    Slade came down the beach steps swearing. How the hell could he keep a rein on a woman who took off before sunrise? Gone walking on the beach, Betsy had told him. Alone on a deserted beach, Slade thought grimly, completely vulnerable to anything and anyone. Did she always have to be moving, doing? Why couldn't she have been the lazy halfwit he'd imagined her to be?
    Then he spotted her--head down, shoulders slumped. If it hadn't been for the mass of wheat-colored hair, he would have sworn it was another woman. Jessica stood straight and was always heading somewhere--usually too fast. She didn't curl up in a ball of defeat. Uncomfortable, he thrust his hands in his pockets and walked toward her.
    She didn't hear him, but sensed the intrusion and the identity of the intruder almost