Protective Instincts Read Free Page B

the fruity flavor, Brit stared into, decadent, lightly scented, soothing bubbles surrounding her.
    As she lounged in a hot, foamy bath, staring into the steamy haze, bittersweet thoughts of Tommy relaxed, comforted, and saddened her. Mostly, they comforted her. Each day the pain diminished, but only a little.
    Tommy had been her best friend. He'd always been there for her. It was so hard to lose her best friend and her sweet, gentle lover. Memories of two happy young people flickered past. He had taught her to love, but he had not taught her to live without him. There were wonderful things they'd done together, so many things they'd discovered together, so many things they had left to do together, but there'd be no more together for them.
    Her parents were supportive when she could only hide within her memories. There had been no quick or easy cure for the bewilderment and loss that held Brit in its icy clutches. No magic spell.
    The driver of the truck probably hadn't seen him step between parked cars onto a busy street. He had sped away after robbing her of the chance to grow old with her love. Witnesses at the scene said it had been Tommy's fault.
    She hadn't wanted to remember that they'd had one of the few arguments of their six-year-old marriage the morning of the accident. He'd been startled when she'd suggested he might be the reason they hadn't conceived. If only she'd saved her request that they go for tests for an evening, when they could've talked things out. Had she sent him out too distracted to pay attention to what he was doing? Could she have been at least partly to blame? Her doctors had said they should both be tested.
    "So sorry, my love," Brit whispered. Her hand relaxed.
    Water splashed her face, her glass now floated in her bath water. She hadn't realized she'd let it slip from her fingers.
    She rose from the tub, shivering as she toweled dry. Pulling on Tommy's old bathrobe, she took comfort in the extra length. His scent had long been washed away, but she could pretend. Clutching the worn terry robe closed she opened the bathroom door and headed for her bedroom and sleep.
    As she tied the belt to her robe and pulled the covers over herself, Brit thought about the green eyes of the man who had followed her home tonight. Why had Mr. Samuels needed to follow her? Why on earth had he called her to make sure she made it inside all right? Was it really because he was worried about her car? Had he acted on a whim or had he really felt she needed to be looked after?
    He attended every ball game, every event, and every parent-teacher meeting. He wore age and fatherhood well. She remembered things she hadn't thought she'd noticed, besides his knowing green eyes, like his midnight black hair, or his air of confidence.
    He looked like the kind of man a woman could lean on. For the first time in years, she'd noticed a man. How dare he intrude on her bedtime blues? Tommy was the love of her life.
    * * * *
    Half asleep, Brit reached for the ringing phone. She was disoriented from a dream that left her breathless. She'd seen Tommy's body fly over the hood of the truck that hit him. She'd heard herself scream. Then she'd seen a masked man staring at her, his look menacing. When he'd started toward her, she'd turned and run 'til she couldn't catch her breath.
    The pleasant fragrance of the garden sized arrangement in her dining room now permeated her bedroom, cloying, oppressive. She glanced bleary-eyed at the luminous clock. Two o'clock? Who'd call at this hour but family with an emergency? She snatched up the handset.
    She cleared her throat and gathered her wits about her. "Hello."
    "Havin' a real nice night, sugar?" The voice, raspy, deep, and very southern made her skin crawl.
    "Who are you calling?" She tried to sound reasonable. "Wrong number? Please check your numbers before you call again. You keep getting me instead of whoever..."
    "Did you enjoy the little romantic surprises, darlin'?" His voice was a cross