Freedom's Price Read Free Page B

Garcia and Carmelita and everyone else who fought to keep their families together.”
    She glanced away from him then, her long eyelashes thick and dark against her cheeks.
    Liam got out of the car, afraid if he sat there much longer, he’d do something utterly foolish like reach out and touch her hair. Or pull her into his arms and kiss her.
    God, what a mess
that
would make. Even if he reached for her and she went willingly into his arms, instead of throwing him over her shoulder and down onto the ground in some kind of hand-to-hand combat move, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d made a promise to her uncle.
    Despite the fact that she didn’t need one, he was Marisala’s guardian. He was supposed to take care of her, not take her to bed.
    “Nice neighborhood,” she said as she climbed out of his car. She stretched as she looked around, lifting both arms over her head and reaching for the sky.
    She was wearing a plain white T-shirt, softened and shrunken from too many washings. It clung to her narrow shoulders yet gave only the merest suggestion of the slight feminine curves of her breasts.
    She may have been seven years older, but she was still built like a fifteen-year-old, with smoothly tanned arms that were thin but strong.
    She wore a pair of army fatigues that were a bit too big for her slender frame. They slid down on her hips, creating a gap between the waistband of her pants and the edge of her T-shirt, exposing a fraction of an inch of the soft smoothness of her stomach and revealing enticing glimpses of her belly button.
    “I bought a condo here after my book made the
Times
list.” Liam tried not to look at her, tried to focus on taking her suitcase out of the back of his car. But as he straightened up and shut the car door, she took it from him, her hand slipping underneath his on the handle. She seemed thoroughly unaware that she’d touched him, unaware that her touch had sent a jolt of electricity screaming through him.
    “That’s right. I’d almost forgotten. I’m in the company of a celebrity.” She smiled at him. “A famous author with a book still on the best-seller list.”
    “It’s not
still
on the list,” he corrected her. “The paperback’s just come out, and now it’s on
that
list.”
    He was fascinated by the sight of her collarbone, exposed by the time-relaxed crewneck of her T-shirt. Those delicate bones seemed so fragile and feminine and out of place with the tough-as-nails image she exuded.
    God help him, he was in trouble here. He was completely and thoroughly tuned in to this girl. He was aware of her every move, her every breath. He was in serious danger of being hypnotized simply from looking into her eyes. Still, he couldn’t look away.
    “So here’s a question you probably get all the time,” she continued, smiling up at him. “When’s the next book coming out?”
    Now
Liam could look away. He had to. Because he couldn’t look her in the eye and lie. If he did, she’d see right through him. He pretended to search through his keys as he led the way up to the front door of his building.
    At one time he would have told her the truth. Back in San Salustiano, he’d been honest with her about everything—except for his inappropriate attraction to her. But it had been so long since he’d allowed himself that kind of openness, he gave her the same stock answer about his next book that he gave everyone who asked. “I’m working on it.”
    The truth was, he
wasn’t
working on it. He was dodging his New York editor’s weekly phone calls. He was doing everything and anything besides sitting down and writing that damned book.
    He pointedly changed the subject. “There’s a doorman who comes on duty at night,” he said as he held the door open for her. “I’ll introduce you to him later.”
    “Santiago told me this next book is a personal account of your experiences in San Salustiano.” Marisala was watching him closely, her eyes searching his face. Several