Edge of Paradise Read Free Page B

under the skillful persuasion of his, so did her body soften to his touch as his fingers brushed against her in delicate introduction as he reached for the lever that lowered her seat. The maneuver was effected so smoothly that she didn’t realize what was happening until the vulnerability of her reclining position struck her.
    â€˜No!’ she gasped, struggling to sit up, a fresh wave of knowledge sweeping over her to increase her sense of panic.
    Charles had been easy to repulse because she had wanted to repulse him. The recoiling of her flesh had been a blow to his pride and he had backed away from that as much as from her frosty, affronted protest.
    But what man would listen when her body was giving out a different kind of message? He would take his cue from the exhilarated wildness of her pulse, the vibrating tingle of flesh that felt as though it must surely melt under the heat of its own response.
    She had always prided herself on having a high sense of self-preservation and had guarded against the obvious harmful addictions such as cigarettes and alcohol, not realizing that it was easy to refrain from smoking when you found the taste of tobacco unpleasant. She quite enjoyed the occasional glass of wine, but hard liquor had little appeal for her.
    Paul Hebden, though, could easily get into her blood. If she were foolish enough to let this happen, she would run the risk of never getting him out of her system again. He spelled danger for her. Resisting him would be the hardest test of stamina she had ever faced or was likely to come up against in her entire life. Despite all the confusion he wrought in her, her mind was surprisingly clear on that point.
    Her next piece of action was a masterful cover-up of the battle she was fighting. ‘I’m getting out of this car, Paul, and don’t try to stop me.’
    â€˜I never need to exert physical strength over a woman,’ he said, his tone implying that it was naive of her to think he ever needed to resort to such measures. Women would always be readily available to him.
    In one smooth operation she was released from his arms and her seat was brought back to its original upright position.
    â€˜Don’t call me, I’ll call you,’ she said, her dark copper hair swinging defiantly as she got out of his car. Even to her own ears her words sounded like a line from an old movie.
    â€˜Do that,’ he instructed urbanely. ‘Seven-thirty tomorrow. The Park Royal Hotel. Call
for
me. If you’re not there on the dot, I won’t wait. But you’ll be there.’
    â€˜You reckon? I’m afraid your confidence is in for a knock.’ Her quick breathing might tell him she was off balance, but her voice was as composed as she could have wished.
    His smile mocked her. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t need to. He knew as well as she did the effort it took her to walk away.

CHAPTER TWO
    Sleep was not to be wooed. After restlessly tossing and turning for thirty minutes or so, and still not being able to get the wretched man out of her mind, she put on the light and reached for her bedside reading matter. She had quite forgotten that the book she’d left handy was the one she had recently purchased—
his
.
    Was there no escaping him?
    She opened the book. Might as well find out if she found his writing style as disturbing as she found him. As she had only read the first few pages, she started again at the beginning, and as before, she was immediately absorbed. He was clever with words, and devious. She discovered meanings now that she had missed the first time and before she got to the bottom of the third page a blush rose to her cheeks, one which was to renew itself every few pages. Yet she was full of admiration for his writing technique. She knew why he had such a large and faithful readership. His characters were flesh and blood; every word he wrote stood out with sparkling clarity, justifying its existence, which