What Belongs to Her (Harlequin Superromance) Read Free

numbskull.
    Leaning forward, she picked up her wineglass from the upturned crate beside her. The cabernet sauvignon, warm and fruity, slid down her throat, ever so slightly mellowing her fraught nerves and barely controlled need to vent some serious anger.
    Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling John Jordon was about as happy to be there as she was about his arrival.
    Sasha struggled to get her emotions under control. She had to resist her instinct to worry about every damn thing before it happened. Her primal need to prevent evil before it could strike. Who was to say the guy wasn’t there under duress? She glanced at her cell phone sitting on the table. Either way, she had a right to know why she hadn’t been warned about his unwanted entrance. She had a right to demand some background information on the handsome enigma known as John Jordon.
    Snatching up her phone, she punched in Freddy’s cell number and focused once more on the fairground lights. Her heart beat hard as the tone rang ominously in her ear. She was just about to end the call when the line picked up.
    “Freddy Campton’s phone.”
    Sasha froze. Damn it. It was him. John-bloody-Jordon. What were the chances of him answering? She cleared her throat and sat up straight. Hell would freeze over before she’d let him get the better of her. “Is Freddy around?”
    “Not right now. Can I take a message?”
    “No. I’ll catch up with him tomorrow. Thanks anyway.”
    “You know, if you’re calling to ask about me, you could just come straight to the source. What is it you’d like to know, Miss Todd?”
    She narrowed her gaze. The man’s voice sounded more uppity and posh than ever. “My name’s Sasha. Can we drop the Miss Todd? We tend to work on a first-name basis at the fairground. You know, circa the twenty-first century.”
    There was a pause before his breath rasped down the line. “I see.”
    Sasha glared. Was that a whiff of laugher or disdain in his tone? She’d bet a hundred British pounds on the former. “Are you laughing at me...Mr. Jordon?”
    “John, please.” This time he definitely laughed.
    Her stomach knotted as a blush dared to warm her cheeks. She steadfastly bit back her smile. “Clearly, there are some things we need to get straight if we’re going to start off as civilized individuals tomorrow.”
    “Meaning we’re likely to get uncivil?”
    The heat at her cheeks hitched up a notch. His voice was like liquid velvet, making the suggestion of incivility almost sexual. She shifted in her seat. “Fine. If you want our working relationship to start off on the wrong foot, who am I to argue? Could you just let Freddy know I called and that I’d appreciate a call back?”
    “So you’d still rather ask him rather than me why I’m here?”
    Damn it. She stared at the fair again. This man, with his smooth voice, handsome looks and, though she hated to admit it, masculine charm, was making her feel the need to fully arm herself before she set a single foot inside the fairground office tomorrow morning.
    “Miss...Sasha? You still there?”
    “Of course. I’m going nowhere.” She picked up her wineglass and drained it before reaching for the bottle. Strength in grapes.
    He cleared his throat. “I need you to work with me. This isn’t a fight to the death.”
    She sniffed. “That’s what you think.”
    “Pardon me?”
    Her hand stilled around the wine bottle before she released it and drove her clawed fingers into her hair instead. Clearly, more alcohol was not advisable. Her damn tongue was running away with her.
    “Look, tomorrow’s another day.” She sighed and focused on dragging up a little dignity to battle her desire to poke out the man’s eyes. “I’m just put out I wasn’t told about your arrival. I’m sure tomorrow won’t be as onerous as I’m thinking it will be right now.”
    “I’m quite a nice guy...sometimes.”
    She scowled. “And I’m quite a nice woman...sometimes.”
    He laughed and her