Misty Read Free Page A

pushed out the muscles under the dark tee shirt. He had on dark jeans that fit tight and she was afraid to see any more. Drug lord or gun dealer — at least, he had that look. So she just did a short turn and started down the stairs that were to the left of the moving escalators.
    As she got down a couple of steps she glanced back and was actually disappointed that he was still standing, not looking over at her but looking down the corridor of shops in which she had first walked. Oh well, it was time she got over the scare of one strange guy. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to get over not being attracted to every man who was in the mall. She went out through the busy exit and a couple of guys held the door for her and gave her the once over. Okay, she felt better. Maybe she should start doing something about herself before she went out in public.
    She had not cut her hair in a long time. It was easier to just let it stay long and pull it back as she worked. She was taller than average, and because she worked at home she kept her wardrobe simple, tank tops and jeans or shorts, depending on the season. When the weather was cooler she added sweatshirts or sweaters. She stayed in sandals or shoes she could slip on easily because she often would slide off one or both shoes as she worked on the computer or at the drafting board. Her hair was brown, but in the sun it had red highlights and she thought sometime, when she had some extra money, she might have a hairdresser add some more red to it. She had brown eyes but there were some green flecks in them, not enough to be really called hazel, but there had been a couple of guys who claimed to be fascinated by them. Of course, they also wanted in her bed and were probably just saying anything. She stayed inside on her computers too much to get any tan so she just had a soft pale pink skin that she dusted with makeup when she was in the mood. But at least it was clean and clear.
    In her bag of purchases, she had a new tray of watercolors and a couple of tubes of her favorite colors that she always used too much, along with some pens that she liked to use for drawing. She went out to her slightly used Dodge truck. Slightly used was the term the salesman had extolled. Really beat up and hardly able to keep on the road was a better description. She put her packages on the seat beside her, with fingers crossed she put the key in and turned it to hear the grinding noise but no engine noise.
    She said a short prayer and tried again. Nothing but grinding. This time she tried a very pertinent curse. She pumped the gas and tried again. Loud grinding. She put her head down on the steering wheel. She heard the car next to her start up and the large engine in the vehicle roared. She rose up and looked over at some type of expensive sports car. The man who had been at the railing on the second floor of the floor was adjusting his seat belt.
    Of course! He looked the type to have some expensive type of car that would start up with the touch of a button. Shit. She crossed her fingers and tried one more time. The old engine finally choked and started up. It was just as noisy as the engine of the sports car, just not as sweet sounding. She sat up, looked over and watched as the sports car pulled out and went down the aisle. This allowed her more room to back out herself and then she was heading for home.
    For the next few days she concentrated on work, staying at her computer and drawings. She was living on delivery food and whatever was left over in the refrigerator. Her home was half of a duplex. It was divided down the center and was a type of ranch style common from the fifties. Her friends Paul and Terrie, who planned on getting married someday, owned the house and rented out to her. She loved it because they let her do whatever she wanted to it, which was pretty much nothing.
    She didn’t have a lot of furniture because her life was the one room with the computer set up and drawing space, with one