The Wrong Man: A Novel of Suspense Read Free

engaged but at the same time slightly mysterious. He made her a little nervous, yet in a way she liked. It felt good to be on her toes a bit with a man.
    She was attracted to him, she realized. Even the damn red hair.
    “No, no, dinner’s my treat,” he insisted when the check arrived and she attempted to contribute. He scribbled the tip amount and signed his name. She took a final sip of coffee, and when she looked up, she caught him scanning the patio, his eyes narrowed, as if searching for someone. The waiter to hand back the check to? she wondered. Was he eager for the night to end?
    “I’d love to continue the conversation,” he said. “How about a walk along the beach.”
    “Sure,” she replied, trying not to sound as ridiculously eager as she felt.
    But no sooner had they stepped onto the sand and she’d kicked off her sandals, than it began to drizzle.
    “The gods aren’t being very accommodating,” he said, glancing upward. He took her elbow, guiding her back onto the patio. That spark once again. It was lust, she realized, and it was making her pulse race. “How about plan B? We could grab a drink at the bar. Or—there’s bottle of white wine in my room. I have a suite so we could sit in the living room.”
    She didn’t want the evening to end. But did she want to sleep with him? Because by going back to his hotel room, she was saying that sex was a possibility. She’d play it by ear, she decided. See where the chemistry led.
    “I’m up for a glass of wine,” she told him. “But just one. I’m leaving at seven a.m., and I still have to pack”
    Once they were in the living room of his suite, he slipped out of his blazer and reached for the bottle of white wine on top of the mini bar. Without the jacket, she could see how fit hewas, and imagine how muscular he must be under his shirt. She felt a fresh rush of desire flood through her.
    “Let me get some ice to keep the wine chilled,” he said, grabbing the bucket that had been provided.
    As soon as the door closed behind him, she let her gaze run over the room. Nice to have a suite, she thought. The bedroom door was closed and he hadn’t left much in the living area, just a few items on the desk. She stepped closer. An iPad in a leather case. A slightly rumpled New York Times perched on the edge. A Moleskine notebook, closed. And a Mont Blanc pen.
    She plucked up the pen and with the other hand fished around in her purse for her own Mont Blanc. It had been a gift from her father, a way, he’d told her, to say he was sorry for everything, though no apology had ever been necessary.
    The pens were identical, she saw. Black and gold fountain pens. Maybe that was a sign of something, she told herself.
    And then, she heard footsteps outside the door. Startled, she dropped her purse and one of the pens on the floor. She quickly scooped up both items, and as she did, her elbow knocked the newspaper off the desk as well. She went into scramble mode, and she’d just managed to put everything back in place when she heard the key turn in the lock. That would have been nice, she thought— caught snooping.
    Back in the room, Matt opened the wine, poured them each a glass, and crossed to her. After handing her the wine, he didn’t step back. He was standing so near, she could feel the heat from his body.
    He took her free hand and pulled her to him. Then, he leaned down, his gorgeous mouth nearly touching hers. She closed the gap and kissed him.
    His lips were both soft and firm and when he pulled away a moment later, she already felt hungry for more.
    “I’ve wanted to do that since I first set eyes on you,” he said.
    “In that shop in town?”
    “No, when you accosted me on my way out of breakfast. Maybe even when you came around the corner earlier, while I was on the phone.”
    “You’re not thinking I’m a stalker, are you?” she teased.
    “If you are, I don’t care.”
    He set his wineglass down and kissed her again, more urgently this