Storm Over the Lake Read Free

lines in his face that hadn’t been there the last time she saw him. The gray at his temples had spread into his thick, black hair. He was still husky and muscular, his build making him seem much taller than he actually was. He was, she thought dazedly, so good to look at. He always had been.
    She gripped the purse as he stopped just in front of her. His dark, somber eyes took in her soft beige dress, her bare arms, thetight bun of her hair from which taffy-colored wisps hung rebelliously. He looked until her heart was shaking with its pounding, until her legs felt like spring saplings under her.
    â€œAfraid, Meredith?” he asked gruffly, still using her surname for her first name, a holdover from her disguise as “Meredith Cane.”
    Her knuckles turned white on the purse. “No, sir, I’m not,” she said in a husky voice, addressing him as she always had.
    It brought back her first meeting with him, when she’d come sneaking in under his nose in the guise of his new private secretary. It had been a bold move, but with all the enthusiasm of a young reporter on her first major assignment, she’d carried the deception off with pure bravado.
    â€œCan you take dictation?” he’d asked curtly, easing his husky frame into a chair that swallowed him but left space all around when she sat in it.
    â€œYes, sir,” she’d returned just as curtly. “Backwards, forwards, and upside down, if you like.”
    â€œUpside down?” His dark, insolent eyes had traced a frankly sensuous path down her slender figure. “Won’t your slip show, Meredith?”
    She’d blushed. And he’d thrown back his head and roared like the lion he was. A lion, and she hadn’t shown fear, and he’d respected her for that. Perhaps it had been just a bit more than respect, although he never went past skillful innuendos in their boss-secretary relationship before he found her out. Before he threw her out. Before he…
    â€œYou’re thinner than I remember, Meredith,” he said, his eyes narrow and glittering under the broad scowl. “Skinny might be an apt description.”
    â€œAnd you’re heavier,” she threw back, not pulling her punches. “And older,” she added deliberately.
    Something very like a flash of amusement touched the dark eyes. “I’m forty, in case you need reminding,” he said. “I can give you eighteen years, little girl.”
    â€œSeventeen,” she replied. “I’ll be 23 this month.”
    He looked her over again, speculatively. “Aren’t you going to ask why I told Charlie to send you?”
    Her lower lip trembled despite her best effort at control. “I don’t have to ask.”
    He searched her wan, tired face, hollow-eyed from lack of sleep. “No, you don’t, do you?” he replied grimly.
    She drew a deep breath. “Jack said I was to stay with you and Lillian,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster. “I’d prefer a hotel.”
    â€œNo doubt. But, you don’t have a choice. You gave that up when you agreed to come, Persephone,” he said, eyeing her coldly. “You always reminded me of her, Meredith, with your hair like honey and your face so damned innocent!”
    She flushed to the edges of her hairline. “Why didn’t you just hire a hit man and have me shot?” she asked shakily.
    â€œBecause I’ve waited a long time for this,” he told her, “and I plan to enjoy every minute of it. Give me your claim check and I’ll have Frank pick up your luggage.”
    She handed it to him automatically. He gestured, and a tall, thin man in a chauffeur’s uniform joined him, took the baggage claim check and left.
    â€œI didn’t think you’d bother coming to fetch me yourself,” she said coldly as he took her arm and walked her briskly toward the terminal entrance.
    â€œThe look on your