From the Heart Read Free

room pink?”
    Alison stared a moment, trying to understand the change in topic. “No, it’s done in blues and greens.”
    â€œHmmm, good choice.” Kasey made a face at the drapes. “I painted my room purple once when I was fifteen. I had nightmares for two months.” She caught Alison’s unblinking stare. “Something wrong?”
    â€œYou don’t look like an anthropologist,” Alison blurted out, then caught her breath at her lack of manners.
    â€œNo?” Kasey thought of Jordan and lifted her brows. “Why?”
    â€œYou’re pretty.” A blush rushed into Alison’s cheeks.
    â€œYou think so?” Kasey rose to peer at herself in the mirror. She narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes I think so, but mostly I think my nose is too small.”
    Alison was staring at Kasey’s reflection. As their eyes met in the glass, Kasey’s lit with a smile. It was slow, warm and all-encompassing. Alison’s lips, so much like her uncle’s, curved in unconscious response.
    â€œI have to go down to dinner now.” She backed out of the door, unwilling to lose sight of the smile. “Good night, Miss Wyatt.”
    â€œGood night, Alison.”
    Turning as the door shut, Kasey sighed. An interesting group, she decided. Her mind turned toward Jordan again. Very interesting.
    She walked over and picked up the nightgown again, then ran it idly through her hands. And where, she wondered, does Kasey Wyatt fit into all of this? With a sigh, she sat on the lounge chair. The conversation between Jordan and Dr. Rhodes which she had walked in on had been more amusing than annoying. But still . . . Kasey let Jordan’s description of her run through her mind again.
    Typical, she decided. A typical layman’s view of a scientist who happens to be a woman. Kasey was perfectly aware that she had unsettled Harry Rhodes. A smile tugged at her mouth. She thought she would like him. He was rather staid and pompous and, she reflected, probably very sweet. Beatrice Taylor was another matter. Kasey leaned back in the lounge chair and ordered herself to relax. There would be no common ground between herself and the older woman, but, Kasey thought, if they were lucky, there would be no animosity. As for the child . . .
    Kasey closed her eyes and began to unbutton her blouse as she lay there. Alison. Mature for her age—maybe too mature. Kasey knew what it was like to lose parents in childhood. There were feelings of confusion, betrayal, guilt. It was a lot for a young person to cope with. Who mothers her now? she wondered. Beatrice? Kasey shook her head. Somehow, she couldn’t picture the elegant matron mothering an eleven-year-old girl. She would see that Alison was well-dressed, well-fed and well-mannered. Kasey felt a second stir of pity.
    Then there’s Jordan. With another sigh, Kasey roused herself enough to pull off her blouse and slip off her shoes.He wouldn’t be an easy man to get close to. Kasey wasn’t at all certain she wanted to.
    Standing, she unbuckled her trousers and headed for the bath. What she wanted was to put her education and her experience to work on his book. She wanted to see the information she gave him utilized in the best possible manner. What she wanted, she thought and turned the hot water on full, was a bath. The hours on the plane, preceded by a week of lecturing in New York, had left her as close to exhaustion as she ever came. Thinking of Jordan Taylor would simply have to wait.
    Tomorrow, she thought as she lowered herself into the tub, would be here soon enough.

2
    T he sun glittered over the pool’s surface as Jordan completed his tenth lap. He cut through the water with strong, sure strokes. When he swam, he didn’t think but simply let his body take over. As a novelist, he found his mind too often crowded with characters, with places. With words. He started off the day by clearing it with