The Reluctant Lark Read Free

her arm.
    “Come on, little dove,” a deep, masculine voice murmured in her ear. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
    She had never heard that voice in her life before, but she didn’t have to glance up at that bold, rough-hewn face to realize to whom it belonged. Ignoring her gasp of protest, Challon propelled her across the room toward the french doors that led to the penthouse terrace.
    As he opened the door and pushed her out ahead of him, the only protest she could think to utter was a weak “But it’s raining outside!”
    “Don’t worry about it,” he said grimly. “You won’t melt in the real world, despite what your uncle tells you.”Rand Challon closed the glass doors behind them with a sharp click that had an ominously final sound to it. He then swept her a little to the side, where the overhanging eaves sheltered them from the steadily falling rain.
    She looked up at him, trepidation gradually being replaced by indignation. The arrogance of the man, sweeping her from the room like a pirate with booty! “You may enjoy standing in the rain, but I do not, Mr. Challon,” she said icily. “If you’ll kindly release my arm, I’d like to return to the party.”
    “The hell you would,” he returned with blunt coolness. “I saw your face just now. There’s nothing that would please you less than going back to that high-pressured hothouse in there.”
    “You’re very sure of your powers of perception,” she said caustically. “What makes you think that you can read a perfect stranger with such ease?”
    “Do you know that you have practically no accent at all until something upsets you?” he asked absently. “Though, of course, your mother was American, wasn’t she?”
    Sheena felt a jolt of surprise, and her eyes widened. “How did you know my mother was American?”
    His smile was a flash of warm sunlight in the bronze darkness of his face. “There’s not much that I don’t know about you, little dove. We’re far from being strangers. I think you realized that tonight, didn’t you?”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sheena said, her dark eyes wary.
    “I think you do,” he said. “I believe you first discovered that I was following you in Miami.”
    “San Francisco,” she corrected, her head whirling in confusion at the bewildering statement. “Following?” she asked faintly. “I thought it a mere coincidence. I had no idea that I had such an ardent fan.”
    He shook his head. “I was at your first concert in Houston, and I’ve been at every one since, but I can’t say that I’m a fan.” He grinned ruefully. “To be honest,I hate your performances with a passion.” His face lit with amusement as she raised her chin haughtily, her dark eyes blazing with outrage and hurt. “Just settle down, little dove,” he went on soothingly. “It’s simply that I’ve never believed in attending funerals, even with a lovely thing like you as chief mourner. I have a passion for life and the living, not for death.”
    “If you’re quite finished insulting me, I’ll leave you now,” Sheena said, her voice shaking with rage. “By the way, Mr. Challon, I couldn’t care less what you have a passion for!”
    “You will, dove. I assure you that I intend to make you conversant with all of my passions.” He smiled gently. “As for leaving me, I’ll let you go in a few minutes, at least for a time. I’m not trying to cage you at present, little bird. I just thought that it was time I made my first approach. I could see that you were getting a bit uneasy when you finally realized that I was on your trail.”
    “You’re absolutely crazy,” she sputtered. “They ought to lock you up and throw away the key. You can’t follow someone around just because it amuses you to do so.”
    His grin widened in frank enjoyment as he looked down at her furious face. “When you’re as rich as I am, you’re not called crazy, just eccentric, sweetheart. And you’ll find out