Fire And Ice Read Free

Jan had been there the day Lawrence Silver died in that plane crash, and only she knew the truth about Margie’s unhappy marriage. Margie had avoided men ever since, except on a friendly basis. She wanted no one near enough to hurt her again.
    But she seemed to be reacting to Cannon in a totally alien way. Margie wasn’t usually antagonistic, but her eyes glittered when she mentioned Andy’s brother. It was the most violent emotion she’d shown in five years.
    “Cannon’s an attractive man,” Jan murmured.
    “That big stone wall?” Margie turned away. “I don’t even want to talk about him. Imagine, leaving me the bill for his scotch and water, and ordering me a drink I didn’t even touch! I ought to have the bill embedded in a block of concrete and mailed to him special delivery, collect.” Her green eyes brightened. “I wonder how I could do it….”
    Jan couldn’t repress a grin. Margie was incorrigible.
    The jangling of the phone cut into the conversation. Jan ran for it, her eyes lighting up at once when she held the receiver to her ear.
    “It’s Andy,” she whispered to Margie, who nodded and left the room, knowing her sister would appreciate some privacy,
    She wandered out into the long hall. On the way to her bedroom, her eyes fell on the wood umbrella stand she and Larry had bought soon after their wedding. They’d been browsing in an antique store—Margie’s passion for the past irritated him, and he’d only gone under protest—when her eyes had fallen on the handcarved wooden relic. She’d bought it against his wishes, because it had been expensive. She’d argued that she had money of her own, a little that her grandmother McPherson had left her, and he’d stormed out of the shop in a huff, leaving her to handle the transaction.
    They’d had a violent argument about it that night, and he’d forced her in bed—not for the first time—leaving her hurt and bruised and frightened. The next morning he’d dressed to go on his fatal trip while she studied him with tormented eyes. She’d watched him leave the room with the most incredible kind of pain in her heart, wondering what had happened to their marriage, longing to be free of him.
    She shuddered at the memory, glaring down at the umbrella stand. Why had she left it here, in a house that now held no memento of him, not even a picture? Perhaps it was some subconscious thing, she told herself, to keep alive the guilt that had never gone away. She’d wished herself free, and he’d died. Somehow, she felt responsible for the plane crash—despite the fact that she had had nothing to do with it.
    She stared down at the antique. Perhaps she’d give it to Mrs. James next door. She smiled as she went into her blue and white bedroom. Mrs. James was really a doll, despite her strict puritanical streak and her fervent disapproval of her notorious neighbor. Margie actually encouraged that disapproval, for reasons she’d never worked out. She wasn’t really the uninhibited creature her readers believed her to be. The woman inside the flamboyant shell was actually very vulnerable, and achingly lonely. But her marriage had taught her one thing—that appearances were not to be trusted. She never wanted to take the chance of being trapped again. She never wanted another domineering man in her life, and even as the thought registered, she saw a mental picture of Cannon Van Dyne. She shivered involuntarily. He was like Larry, she thought. All arrogant command, the kind of man who’d want a clinging, obedient woman with no independence and no spirit. He’d smother her….
    The bedroom door burst open as Margie was drawing her mint green nightgown over her head, and she turned, smiling at Jan’s excited face. Her younger sister so rarely glowed like that. Jan was such a shy, gentle creature.
    “Oh, Margie, we’ve got another chance!” she said, eyeing her older sister warily.
    “We?” Margie asked with raised eyebrows. She smoothed the gown