Read Headstrong for Free Online Page A

I’m staying out of trouble. I’ll be happy, because I’m in control. You’ll be happy, because you get to keep his money plus mine. It’s a win-win-win situation.”
    Reece shook his head. “I can’t lie to your father.”
    “My father’s a twisted old control freak who’s never earned anybody’s loyalty, and what he doesn’t know will keep you paid. Otherwise, I’m telling him I know all about you, and then nobody’s happy.”
    “I can’t do that.”
    “You don’t have to decide yet. Give it a couple days. A couple more days on his payroll, to think about whatever it is you want that money for. And a couple more days to realize I’m fully capable of making your life miserable if you don’t see my reason.” She reached out and ran her fingers over the collar of Reece’s jacket.
    He glared and plucked her hand away.
    “I can be extremely pleasant when we’re on the same side, lover. If you want to negotiate, come find me on a Thursday, or here, in my little blue boat.” She aimed her broken finger down the dock. “Or perhaps I’ll find you first,” she added with a smirk.
    “You’re cracked. You can’t blackmail me into blackmailing you.”
    “I can do a lot of things that might surprise you,” she said, wide lips pursing. “Drive safe. Maybe talk it over with your brother?”
    With that, Libby turned and flounced off into the night.

Chapter Three
    What a shitty Monday this was shaping up to be.
    Libby trudged through the downtown Wellington lunchtime bustle on Willis Street. A gorgeous day, sunny and unseasonably warm for late June but gloomy in spite of it all. A whole weekend gone and no sign of Reece Nolan. If this kept up she’d have no choice but to do some actual work.
    She’d felt sure her offer was irresistible. But now three days had passed, wasted, spent acting normal, doing unobjectionable normal-people things just in case that handsome glacier of a man was still watching her. Being respectable was such a strange way to go about one’s life…but even if it equaled admitting defeat, Libby didn’t want to give her father cause for concern. Her resources were impressive, but they were nothing compared to his.
    A cyclist whipped past on a slim orange bike, weaving between the cars and curb. Libby knew those red shoes…knew them well as she knew her own, quite literally.
    “Colin!”
    He slowed, trapped behind a boarding bus, and when he turned at Libby’s shout, Colin’s face lit up. Flipping his bike around, he glided back, hopping himself onto the sidewalk and startling pedestrians.
    “Gidday, Libby?” He parked beside her and leaned on his handlebars, blocking the flow of the walking traffic and irritating harried businessmen. He had on cargo shorts and a black zip-up jacket, a brimmed racing cap over his buzzed hair. A long portfolio tube was slung diagonally across his back, strapped down by the flap of a canvas messenger bag.
    Libby smiled. “Hey, stranger. Where are you off to?”
    “Near Lambton. Delivery.” He tapped the cargo on his back.
    “Courier?”
    He nodded. “I’ve got nothing on after this one, far as I know. You fancy a coffee?”
    Libby perked up for the first time since Thursday. “Sure.”
    “Excellent.” He nodded to the café a block behind them. “Give me five minutes? Order me a flat white.”
    He was already back in motion, disappearing into traffic like a trolling shark, the bike a reckless extension of his body.
    Libby had just enough time to secure them a table near a window and order two coffees. The waitress delivered them as Colin entered, bike propped on his shoulder. He leaned it against the wall and lifted his brim at the barista who’d made their drinks. The girl smiled back, then soured abruptly when he sat opposite Libby.
    Colin tugged off his cycling gloves, and Libby noted that, like his brother, he wore no wedding ring.
    “Ta,” he said, sliding his cup and saucer across the table.
    “You always drag your bike around,