Free Heartless Rebel by Lynn Raye Harris Page A

           Jack
had shown her to this room to freshen up. In the bathroom, she’d found all the
toiletries she could need, a hairbrush, a toothbrush and a fluffy white robe.
In spite of her morning shower, she’d taken another, washing her hair and
blow-drying it so it hung smooth and sleek down her back.
                 A
knock at the door startled her. Heart pounding, she moved toward the entry.
                 “Yes?”
                 “I’ve
had some things sent up for you.”
                 Cara
pulled the door open. Jack stood there, so tall and handsome that he took her
breath away. His eye was black, but it didn’t detract from his male beauty. He
looked more relaxed now, and more dangerous.
                 Jack
Wolfe was not the sort of man she needed to get involved with. She no longer
believed he was simply a gambler—oh, he was definitely a gambler, but that
wasn’t the only thing he did—but she
was certain he was bad for her. He was, she realized, a daredevil. She had
little to base it on, other than the way he’d behaved at the card table and
later when he’d come looking for her. He’d faced Bobby with contempt, and he’d
fought hard against the men who’d punched him, never once begging for mercy.
                 But
she knew she was correct, that she’d surmised the truth.
                 He
thrived on challenge and adrenaline. He got a rush from danger. He was the
worst kind of man in the world for any woman, but especially for her. She
wanted someone who was dependable, who was stable and responsible. She wanted
what she’d never had.
                 But
why was she thinking any of these
thoughts? She barely knew this man, and she certainly wasn’t planning to fall
in love with him.
                 “Can
I come in?”
                 Cara
swallowed as she pulled the door wider. Heat blossomed in her belly, between
her thighs, crept along her skin in a crimson wave. “Of course.”
                 He
passed inside, carrying bags from a boutique, and set them on the antique table
at the end of the bed. “It’s not much, but it’s enough to go out shopping and
to dinner.”
                 Embarrassed,
she went over and peeked inside one of the bags.
                 “If
you don’t like it, I’ll have something else sent up. I had to guess at your
size.”
                 “I’m
sure you did fine,” she replied politely.
                 “Technically,
it wasn’t me. I simply made a phone call and described you to the shopgirls.”
His mouth crooked in a smile. A devilish smile. “Aren’t you going to look?”
                 “I
am looking.”
                 “No,
you’re peeking past the tissue. Take them out, see what you think. There’s time
to send it all back if it’s not right.”
                 She
withdrew a jewel green sweater set made of the finest tightly knit silk and a
pair of cream slacks from one of the bags.
                 “The
color suits you,” he said as her heart beat harder. “Matches your eyes.”
                 “Thank
you.” The sweater set was gorgeous, expensive, and she adored the color. It was
the kind of thing she’d have bought for herself, if she’d had the money to do
so. Most of her clothes came from big-box stores, huge chains that thrived on
quantity not quality. It was what she could afford, and she’d never once felt
as if she looked cheap—until now. “Everything is beautiful,” she told him with
a hard knot in her throat.
                 “I’m
glad you like them.”
                 In
the next bag, she found a box with a pair of strappy kitten heels. “The size is
absolutely perfect.”
                 “I
saw the bottom of your shoe when you had your leg tucked beneath you in the
car.”