Free The Next Mrs. Blackthorne (Bitter Creek Book 6) by Joan Johnston Page B

gotten what you wanted. The sooner you transfer the stock to Clay the better.”
    His eyes, which had been warm a moment ago, were suddenly frigid again. “You’re one cold-blooded bitch. I’ll say that for you.”
    She was stung by the insult but still wounded enough to want to hurt him back. “You get what you pay for.”
    “That’s the truth!” he shot back. “The deal was September first. I’ll transfer the stock then, not one day sooner. At least that way I can be sure you’ll hang around to service me until then.”
    Jocelyn was mortified. And terribly hurt. But why should he trust her? They were strangers, who happened to be lovers, because of the devil’s bargain they’d made.
    North turned his back on her and stalked from the water. He was obviously agitated, muttering to himself.
    Jocelyn had the sinking feeling that he’d been disappointed by the sex. What did he expect, when she’d been a virgin? She wiped the unwanted tears from her eyes and realized she’d only made it easier to see his nakedness. He was a magnificent male animal, with long, strong legs, lean buttocks, and a broad, powerful back. And no more compassion in his soul than the most merciless of beasts.
    He grabbed his clothes from the ground, glanced at her over his shoulder, and said, “We’re done here. Get dressed.” Then he turned his back on her and headed for a secluded area of the pond.
    Jocelyn was too hurt and angry to retort. She was glad North wasn’t there when she reached the bank, because she wasn’t sure what she would have said—or done. She picked up her bra, but it was sopping wet, and her underwear was nowhere to be found. She yanked on her socks and jeans and snapped on her shirt, then stuffed her bra into her pocket before pulling on her boots.
    Just as she finished, North showed up at her side. “Let’s go,” he said. “Day’s wasting.”
    She laid a hand on his arm to stop him, but he jerked free and turned to face her, his jaw set, his eyes like icebergs ready to crack and splash in the cold Arctic sea.
    “What the hell do you want now?” he snarled.
    She wanted to apologize. To go back and act like a sophisticated adult, instead of a spoiled, antagonistic child. She wanted to take back the unkind things she’d said and explain how wonderful he’d made her first experience with sex. She wanted to tell him she was confused by her feelings—feelings she hadn’t expected to have when they scarcely knew each other.
    And she wanted to make peace with him because, whether he believed it or not, she intended to keep her part of the bargain. It was terrifying to imagine those cold, disdainful eyes impaling her every time he looked in her direction.
    “I asked you a question,” he said. “What the hell do you want?”
    All she could get past the lump in her throat was, “Nothing.”

5
    “Uncle Owen!” Kate called, waving vigorously. “Over here!”
    Kate watched as her father’s twin made his way around the sawhorses that had been set up to make a police barricade to traffic on Eighth Street in front of the federal courthouse in downtown Austin. Kate recognized a reporter from KVUE, the local NBC affiliate, one of many TV reporters standing within the barrier holding a microphone and talking, with a cameraman facing her. Satellite vans from every TV station in Texas—and many from out of state, Kate was sure—crowded the adjoining streets around the courthouse, where someone had to constantly feed parking meters.
    U.S. marshals and deputy marshals were thick on the ground, along with local police and some FBI, whom Kate recognized only because she’d seen enough movies to know they were the ones in the dark suits. And of course, at least one Texas Ranger was on hand, her uncle Owen. He was wearing the only “uniform” the Rangers had, a white shirt and dark trousers, with a Stetson and cowboy boots. He wore his SIG P226 on his hip and his silver Texas Ranger badge on his shirt pocket.
    What