Free Man from Half Moon Bay by Iris Johansen Page B

second skin to his lean body. She could see the shadow of the dark hair feathering his chest through the damp shirt and had a sudden heated memory of the springy texture of that thatch as it touched her bare breasts.
    She forced her gaze away from his chest and up to his face. “I don’t think this is a very good idea.”
    “You have to eat.” He began unpacking the groceries. “Of course, you could send one of the policemen in the unmarked car across the street to the nearest Burger King.” He looked up and smiled. His dark hair was rumpled and slightly damp and the eye not covered by the black patch was twinkling. He looked like a mischievous pirate, and a melting tenderness touched her. “Now, wouldn’t you rather have one of these?” He rummaged in the sack until he found two cellophane-wrapped steaks and held them up triumphantly. “Did I ever tell you what a fantastic bush cook I am? I can do things with herbs and seasonings that will blow your mind.”
    “You know how to cook?” Intrigued, she closed the door and moved toward him. “No, you know very well you never told me. You know everything about me and I know practically nothing about you.” She sat down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, gazing at him eagerly. “Did you spend much time in the outback?”
    He lowered his gaze to the steak in his hands. “Pretty much. We didn’t always live at Half Moon Bay.” He ripped off the cellophane and turned on the broiler. “Until I was thirteen we had a station two hundred miles north of Adelaide. We barely eked out a living on the property, and my father and I earned extra money taking tourists into the outback to see ‘the glories of the land down under.’ ” He made a face. “God, I hated it. All I wanted to do was stay at home on Bandora and build our station into the best damn property in Australia.”
    Jordan had never confided anything about his childhood and she was almost afraid to speak, afraid he would stop and withdraw from her again. “Bandora was the name of your station?”
    Jordan nodded as he continued to unload the groceries. “My father said that someday our name would be sung from one end of the country to the other when we made Bandora all that it could be. How he loved that station.”
    “And so did you,” she murmured, gazing at his face.
    A sudden bitterness touched his lips. “Oh, yes, I loved it. Maybe even more than my father. Weate, slept, and breathed Bandora.” He crushed the empty paper bag and threw it in the waste-basket beside the cabinet. “Neither of us could think of anything else.”
    She felt a tiny thrill of excitement. She was coming so close. He had revealed more of his past to her in the last few moments than he had during the entire period of their marriage. If she was patient, surely he would give her the key to understanding him. “Did Cam live at Bandora too?”
    “Not during the rough years. Those times were over when my father married his mother.” He looked up. “Where can I find a grill to put these steaks on?”
    “In the cabinet.” She gestured to the doors below the sink. “Cam is your stepbrother? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
    “It wasn’t important. Cam is as close as any real brother to me and my father legally adopted him.”
    It was important. Everything he was telling her was an important revelation that was ripping aside the barriers and the mystery that had kept her from knowing Jordan. “When did you move to Half Moon Bay?”
    “Why don’t we talk about it later?” He gave her a surprisingly boyish smile over his shoulder as he knelt to find the grill. “To maintain my reputation I’ve got to concentrate on making you the best steak you’ve ever eaten.” He peered into the cabinet. “I don’t see a grill. Are you sure it’s here? Oh, there it is.” He drew out the grill and stood up with one lithe movement.
    His damp jeans were clinging to the strong line of his thighs, she suddenly noticed