Jackson Read Free

tempted to throw the coffee at his head.
    Unfortunately, she found herself too stunned to move. Her heart thudded against her ribs as she fumbled for something to say. “Why—what are you doing here?”
    “What, can’t an old friend stop by?” he said, still wearing that grin. Looked like he was as cocky as ever.
    And as attractive as ever , she thought, though she quickly shoved that observation back down. He’d gained some muscle since the last time she’d seen him—the white T-shirt he wore was stretched tight across his new, broader frame—and his sandy hair was a lot shorter, too, buzzed down to only a couple of inches. But that wasn’t the only change in him. He looked tired, slightly weathered—as if he’d sailed to the ends of the earth and back. But his brown eyes still shone with the same devilish gleam, the one that had warned her from the very first time they met that this man would be trouble.
    “It’s midnight,” she said, still trying to make sense of his sudden appearance. Still trying to calm her breathing.
    “A little late for coffee, isn’t it?” he said, nodding toward the pot in her hand.
    “I’ve had a long day.” And I’m about to have an even longer night, with or without this added complication. “I don’t have the time for this. Why are you here?”
    He straightened. He’d always towered over her, but today—maybe it was the extra muscles—he seemed even taller.
    “Can I come in?” he asked.
    “No,” she said automatically.
    There was only one reason a guy showed up at his ex’s door in the middle of the night, and it wasn’t to exchange pleasantries. While she could definitely have used a little stress relief right now—and God, would sex with Jackson bring all kinds of relief—he was the last person she wanted back in her life, even for a night. He’d broken her heart. Touching him was not an option—unless he gave her an excuse to punch him, which she would gladly take.
    But there was something strange about the way he was acting. He glanced behind him before leaning closer. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal, Charlie, but I can explain everything inside.”
    “Explain what?” She blocked his path. “You aren’t coming through this door unless you tell me why you’re here.”
    He threw another glance back toward the street, then leaned even closer—close enough that for a brief, heart-pounding second, she thought he was going to try to kiss her. Instead, he moved his lips to her ear, and her chest tightened as his warm breath hit her skin.
    “This is going to sound odd,” he said, his voice so soft that she could barely hear him, even considering his nearness. “But I need to borrow an old gift I gave you. Or better yet—let me buy it off of you.”
    She blinked. Whatever she’d expected him to say next, it wasn’t this. “What?”
    “For your birthday last year,” he said. “You know, I gave you that old atlas. I’d like to buy it off of you.”
    That didn’t make things any clearer. “Why?”
    “It’s a little complicated.”
    Complicated didn’t even begin to describe this situation—or the things his sudden appearance seemed to be doing to her body. Her galloping heart had ridden all the way up into her throat, and she pushed him away.
    He was no longer wearing that cocky smile. Instead, there was a seriousness in his expression that made her stomach tighten.
    Even when they’d dated all those months ago, there’d always been something dangerous about Jackson—something she knew she should avoid, but that drew her in all the same. She’d never dated anyone who made her feel so restless. So alive. Sometimes he’d be away for days at a time with only the vaguest of excuses, and often as not he’d return with injuries and bruises he’d never explain. She never asked. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
    But it was hard to keep the questions out of her head now. What was he involved in? And what did an atlas have to do with