As the form sauntered closer, Keely blinked several times. No way. Had to be a trick of the light. Or a trick of the swirling dust motes. Her eyes—shit, maybe she needed glasses. The male figure with a laconic walk looked like…nah. It couldn’t be him.
Could it?
All six foot four inches, two hundred odd pounds of muscle and grace pulled into sharp focus.
Keely gasped like a Victorian maiden.
Or maybe she had stumbled onto the set of a low budget horror movie.
The man was a stunning example of masculine flawlessness.
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7
Lorelei James
And the dead last man in the world Keely ever wanted to deal with.
Her brother’s best friend.
The older brother of the guy who’d dumped her.
The jerk who’d left her high and dry at her brother’s wedding reception three years ago.
Jack Donohue.
That bitch fate had a nasty sense of humor.
8
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Chapter Two
Jack Donohue believed he’d adequately prepared himself for meeting Keely McKay. Boning up on his sarcasm. Practicing his disdain. Confident those reactions would prevent his instantaneous red-hot jolt of desire.
It didn’t work. The damn woman had gotten under his skin like a burr. Or tick. Or a fever. Or blood poisoning.
His gaze zoomed over her pointy-toed boots, skintight denim, gaudy rhinestone belt, plaid, pearl-buttoned shirt and stopped on her arms defiantly folded across her chest.
Definitely not his type.
A square, yet decidedly feminine jaw shadowed her willowy neck. Her upper lip was a perfect cupid’s bow. Her lower lip was plump in the center and drooped outward slightly, which contrasted with the upturned corners of her wide mouth, creating a permanent smirk. Jack remembered how sweet and hot her smirking mouth felt moving beneath his.
Her pert, freckled nose wrinkled. Those sapphire blue eyes blazed and his groin tightened in response.
Jesus. What kind of sick fuck got off on a woman glaring at him?
You. When the woman in question has starred in your X-rated fantasies for the last eleven years.
No doubt his intense scrutiny would raise her ire. Chances were slim the hotheaded cowgirl had mastered the art of curbing her tongue.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You are Full Circle Consulting? And Western Property Management?”
He tried—and failed—not to look smug. “Afraid so.”
“Not only are you my expert consultant, you’re my landlord?”
“I thought you might be surprised.”
“Surprised? Try shocked. Dismayed. Completely and utterly crushed. Talk about unreal. Could my life get any worse at this moment?” She held up her hand. “No. Please. Don’t answer that. I cannot believe I pinned all my hopes on this…” Her voice broke and she turned away.
He waited, but Keely didn’t toss out a barbed parting shot. She didn’t do anything at all.
Damn. Why was he disappointed? He hadn’t prepared for her immediate admission of defeat. He’d anticipated verbal sparring. Sad that he’d actually looked forward to going head to head with Keely. Her insults were lightning fast and usually funny as hell—even if he refused to admit that to her. “Look, surprise factor aside, can I ask you something?”
Lorelei James
Keely offered him a bad-tempered shrug.
“Did Carter send you to me for help with this project?”
“No. Carter doesn’t know I’ve bought this building.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
“Because it’s my deal, okay? I didn’t want interference from my brothers. Ditto for my parents, my aunts, my uncles and two billion cousins.”
“Doesn’t the McKay family handbook clearly state you all have to tell each other everything?”
His attempt at humor fell short when Keely flicked him a dour look. “Go ahead and call Carter. Laugh with him about his clueless little sister. I should be used to it by now.”
Her retreat into silence disturbed him. He waited for her to speak or to lash out or something.
But minutes ticked by and nothing passed through her compressed lips but angry puffs of air.
Finally, Jack said, “What’s really going on here? No bullshit charm, Keely. No insults. No half-truths.”
Keely sagged against the wall. “Buying this crappy old building was the first step of turning my dream into reality.”
“What dream?”
She studied him to gauge his sincerity. Apparently she found something that allowed her to offer an explanation. “My dream has been to open a physical therapy clinic with enough space to eventually expand into a full-service healthcare center.”
Jack was taken aback. And a little impressed. “Really?”
She nodded. “Rural healthcare sucks, especially out here where it can be a hundred miles between towns of any size. For the last four years, I’ve worked my ass off saving money to open my own rehab clinic. Dr. Monroe has referred her repetitive injury patients to me and she promised if I got the place up and running, she’d open a satellite office here. So, I’ve been moonlighting at the VA in Cheyenne for the cash and the practical experience. At some point, I realized this building was ideal. Not too big. Not too small. Centrally located. Perfect, right? Still, I knew my brothers would try to talk me out of buying it because it needs so much work, but there’s just something about this forgotten place that speaks to me.