Excerpt of The Green-Eyed Doll by Jerrie Alexander

Dark circles and cold, weary, blue eyes marred Matt's Michelangelo face. His black hair fell in disarray and looked like he'd raked his fingers through a number of times today. His chiseled jaw and chin were dark with a long day's stubble. With a couple of long strides, he pinned her between him and the counter. He framed her face with his hands, closed his eyes, and lowered his forehead to hers. They stood in silence for a long time, unmoving, their bodies not touching. Fear for the missing woman radiated off him.

His anguish, more than she'd planned for, hit her hard. His dedication and concern, traits she admired, shook her conviction that no man could be trusted. His tenderness, something she'd never had, touched a long–neglected place in her soul.

In that small space of time, where no one else in the world existed, Catherine's heart found hope. Tears, she'd promised herself never to shed again, slid unchecked down her cheeks. But these tears weren't because of her pain or grief. She cried because Matt suffered and grieved for the missing woman. She slid her arms around him, stroking his tense muscles.

"Hey, yourself." He leaned back and studied her face. The warmth behind his eyes returned as he wiped away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. "Were those for me?"

She nodded and emotions swirled in her head. Catherine struggled to regain her perspective. "I have to remove no more tears from The Never List."

"Why would you hold yourself to such a never?"

"The only thing crying gets you are red eyes."

"Okay, tough guy. Maybe someday you'll trust me enough to explain. Why'd you break a rule for me."

"The worry for Annie Travers in your eyes broke my heart. I've never known anyone with your compassion and dedication."

"Careful." The corners of his mouth lifted. "You'll be calling me John Wayne again."

"Same soul."