Unforgettable Read Free Page A

musky had ripened in the oppressive heat.
    She managed to force one eye open. “Oh, my God!”
    A Day-Glo orange sky greeted her. Where was she? Jerking upright, she tried to remember. Both eyes were open now, pinwheels of light whirling in front of her, backlit by the dreadful tangerine sky.
    She covered her eyes with both hands and tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry; her tongue felt like sandpaper. For a second she thought she might be ill, but the surge of nausea passed, and she eased her eyes open. Her head was a dead weight, and the hum in her ears made it hard to think. It took several seconds to realize that she was in a small tent.
    “Funny, I don’t remember going camping.”
    She glanced around and spotted her tennis shoes. The first shoe went on easily. The other one belonged to someone else. Not only was it too small, the curly red shoe laces didn’t match. She checked but didn’t see her other shoe.
    A yellow slicker was heaped in the co rn er with a shirt. Picking it up, she saw the blue polo shirt was a man’s XXL. What was she doing in this small tent with a man? A very large man at that. Who?
    Her muzzy brain didn’t have an answer. All it kept saying was : It’s hot. Get out of here. She started to jam her foot into the mismatched shoe, then noticed the horrid pink nail polish on her toes and fingers. Yuck! Why would she use such an ugly color? And what was she doing in a cheap tiger-print dress?
    She forced her foot into the shoe and scrambled on all fours toward the closed flap of the tent. Another wave of nausea urged the bile up from the pit of her stomach. She closed her eyes, hugging her shaking body, and her head fell forward. Her hair tumbled across her face, tickling her nose. She looped the long strands behind each ear before daring to open her eyes again.
    Feeling better, she nudged the tent flap aside and crawled out. She gulped in air that was only slightly cooler than it was inside the tent. Moist plumes of heat shimmered up from the rocky ground in a vaporous mist that brought with it the earthy scent of rain. She rose to her feet and saw an endless expanse of azure sea that blended with the sky at the horizon. A flock of tiny birds rose off the water and floated like a cloud, skimming just above the breakers.
    “Where am I?” she asked aloud.
    The rugged coastline was austerely beautiful, yet somehow lonely. Frightening. Stately palms stood like sentinels guarding the deserted beach. Gazing at the ocean, she stood there, trying to recall what she was doing here until she realized someone was watching her.
    She turned slowly, to keep her stomach on an even keel, telling herself to stay calm. A few feet away in a shadowy bower of ferns, a man was sitting on a rock, shaded by enormous tree ferns, a mug in his hands. His deep blue eyes pierced her with a physical force she felt all the way to her toes.
    His eyes weren’t Santa Claus blue, all twinkly and merry. No. These eyes were as cold as the gleaming blade of the knife hanging from his side. Tall, big-boned with formidable shoulders, he could snap her in two with one hand, and right now he looked as if there was nothing he’d like better.
    She glanced around quickly, her wariness mounting. She was alone with this man in the middle of what appeared to be nowhere. He hadn’t done anything; he hadn’t even spoken, yet she was on the verge of panic.
    He looked like someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley—or even in a church. Not only was he big, he looked just plain mean. Several days’ worth of dark beard stubbled a square jaw and shadowed an upper lip crimped over a slightly fuller, yet no more friendly, lower lip.
    They were at the beach but he was dressed for the mountains in khaki shorts and sturdy hiking books. A faded navy tank top stretched across his tanned shoulders and pitched low over his chest, revealing a wealth of dark hair. A scarred leather belt rode low on his narrow hips, holding the knife that