Wicked. Shannon Drake

the words were spoken with enthusiasm and apparent good cheer. They’d been in the military together and had known one another well. Indeed, they’d done a bit of pub hopping together. They might even have been called friends. Hunter liked to be thought of as a great world traveler, a tremendous adventurer, and he guarded his reputation as a ladies’ man. He enjoyed women—of all sizes, shapes and social strata.

      Was it the natural distrust for a man that might well be a murderer that caused Brian to watch him with so great a distrust now? Or was it the way he stood by Camille? Brian couldn’t help the surge of curiosity that sprang forward in his mind, yet it was goaded by something far more instinctual. He wanted to wrench the woman from the man’s side. Was she aware of Hunter and his reputation, hard earned and well deserved. Were they already lovers?

      He’d known her but a night. And his distrust of her remained strong. After all, she had arrived at his house. And she worked at the museum. But was it simple distrust or something else? He had determined on his path. And she was part of it. But as he stood there, watching her, he realized the extraordinary depth of her beauty, the color of her hair, the crystal electricity in her eyes. Indeed, even in her work apron, with strands of hair escaping pins, she exuded a rare grace and dignity, even…sensuality.

      He didn’t trust her proximity to Hunter. And worse, he just didn’t…like it.