Reilly's Return Read Free

mystical malarkey. She was just as he remembered her: pretty in a way that had nothing to do with cosmetics or fashion. Especially not fashion. Jayne’s outfits would have made any other woman look like a refugee from Goodwill. This morning she wore gray thermal underwear bottoms, a purple T-shirt, and a man’s gray plaid sport coat that swallowed up her petite frame.
    Still, she looked damned appealing to Reilly, proving that hers was an inner beauty that was enhanced by delicate features and eyes like huge pools of obsidian. Her hair was spread around her shoulders in a dark auburn cloud that was nearly black in this light and so wild, Reilly would have bet she couldn’t get a comb through it to save her life. But it was soft and silky. He knew becausehe’d once buried his hands in it. He’d dreamed of it nearly every night since; every night for a year.
    “Oooommm … oooommm …” she chanted, her face a study in concentration as Reilly moved closer.
    She had a beautifully sculpted mouth. It was wide and expressive with full, ripe lips. Painted a lush shade of mulberry, those lips curved seductively around the
O
sound she made and closed softly on the
M
. Reilly’s skin warmed and his mouth went dry as he stared. He could remember exactly the texture and taste of those lips, though he’d sampled them only once, and he had certainly kissed a dozen women since. It was Jayne’s taste that lingered on his tongue, sweet and sad and frightened, full of longing and guilt and loneliness. He had craved that taste as if it had been wine. Its memory had haunted him just as the memory of her sweet Kentucky drawl had haunted him.
    Memories of Jayne had haunted him more than memories of Mac had, but the thing that had haunted him most was guilt. Now that he saw her, he was all through feeling guilty.
    Dang it all, Jayne grumbled inwardly, this wasn’t working at all. She was supposed to be relaxing andfinding inner peace, centering her being with the cosmos, forgetting about Reilly. Ha! If anything, her premonition about him was growing even stronger. Her bracelet was like an anchor fastened around her wrist, heavy with warning. Why, it was as if he were in the same room with her! It was as if those incredible fluorescent blue eyes of his were boring into her, burning away her sense of self.
    If he ever did show up, she was going to be in big trouble. She’d known from the first he was more man than she wanted to handle. Reilly radiated an aura of masculinity that was enough to make a woman swoon. It was no wonder he’d rocketed to superstardom despite the awful films he’d made. There was just something about him, an inner power, an animal magnetism so strong, it no doubt made compasses go haywire. The hairs on her arms were standing on end just thinking about it.
    “Don’t think about it,” she mumbled, breaking in on one mantra with another. “Don’t think about it.”
    Movement. Maybe movement was what she needed to bring her being into proper alignment. She chanted with renewed vigor and volume. She stretched her arms above her head and swung them in a circle, smacking her hand into the side of the bucket full of dirty wash water, knocking it over the edge of the platform she sat on.
    The metal bucket managed to hit Reilly a glancing blow off the side of his head before much of the water had sloshed out of it. He dropped to the stage floor like a ton of bricks, his breath leaving him in an unceremonious “Ooof!”
    Jayne’s eyes snapped open and rounded like saucers at the sound. She stared in horror at the man sprawled below her, face down in a puddle of water.
    “Oh, my Lord!” she exclaimed. She scrambled down from her perch just as Faith and Alaina found their way to the stage from the side door.
    “Jayne! What did you do to that poor man?” Faith asked, rushing forward.
    “It was an accident!” Jayne wailed. She circled the prone figure warily and nibbled at her thumbnail. “What if I’ve killed