Read Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahill 05] for Free Online

But he had been wildly in love with her up until the day she had walked out on him and their marriage.
    He had turned his face away. Francesca stared at his profile, which she adored—he had a perfectly straight nose, a firm chin, and his eyebrows were darker than his tawny hair. The pang in her breast remained. Francesca no longer felt certain that it was only hatred that he felt for Leigh Anne. His emotions seemed very complicated when it came to his shockingly beautiful and oh-so-petite wife.
    “You know how I feel and where I stand,” he added darkly. But he now stared up at the stars overhead and not at her.
    Francesca looked away, her hands clasped loosely in her lap. If only that were the case. She no longer knew with any certainty what his feelings were. She did not doubt that he loved her, but she also knew he still, oddly, even hatefully, loved his wife. And while he had declared that he would divorce her, Francesca refused to allow it, as it would destroy his political future, and that was far more important than their own personal happiness. She sighed, the sound heavy, staring away, into the night. “Working together willcertainly be a test of our resolve,” she murmured.
    “Yes, it will. I am very tempted to hand this case over to my inspectors and stay out of it completely.”
    Francesca heard herself gasp—in real dismay. For if they did not have this—their wonderful teamwork, a partnership that had already brought four criminals to justice—then they had so little! “Bragg,” she began.
    He lifted a hand, forestalling her. His expression was resigned. “Your brother is involved, Francesca. Or so it seems. I cannot allow Newman and a few others to oversee this investigation. Because of my feelings for you.” He stared, his golden eyes intense. “I do not want you hurt,” he added softly.
    That stopped her. She did not, could not, move. She was warmed from head to toe and deep inside—she knew he would always protect her, never mind that she could protect herself.
    His gaze had drifted to her mouth. Francesca found herself tensing, even as her own regard automatically found his lips. He had awakened the real woman inside her with his kisses. She now knew what passion was—what it meant—how strong and compelling it was. A part of her yearned for one last kiss. But Leigh Anne had been in her own home, and she was a flesh-and-blood woman now. She was no longer the horrid wife who lived abroad—she was no longer an abstraction. Francesca simply could not become the other woman.
    He did not remove his gaze from her face. It became searching. “What did Hart want earlier this evening? I know he called on you. You know I do not trust him! Or was it Julia who invited him over? Does she still think to match the two of you up?” He was grim and hard now.
    Francesca forgot all about his wife. She stiffened in alarm—he must never learn that Hart had decided she was the woman he must eventually wed! The half brothers were rivals. Jealousy, enmity, and distrust ran deep, never mind that when their mother had died, Rathe Bragg had taken both boys into his home and his heart, as Calder’s father had wanted nothing to do with him.
    There was no mistaking the heat and jealousy behind Bragg’s calm tone, now, and it glittered in his eyes. Francesca laid a hand on his forearm, which was strong and hard, even through his wool greatcoat. She realized that she was trembling. Leave it to Hart to once again overturn the boat! Everything that man did was unpredictable, shocking. She was grateful that his half brother was as dependable and reliable—and predictable—as he was not.
    And it seemed like days ago that Hart had come calling, but it had only been earlier that evening.
Rick is right. My intentions are not platonic ones
.
    Francesca had thought that he meant to seduce her—after all, he seduced every other attractive woman who crossed his path.
What
?
    I intend to marry you
. He gave her a strange