A Coral Kiss by Jayne Ann Krentz Read Free Book Online Page A

she couldn't swear it hadn't worked. She had slept a little better than usual last night, even if she had found herself glancing at the clock on the wall every few hours. In contrast, the herbal tea she'd been using the week before tadn't helped a bit. She decided she would give the tryptophane another try before making up her mind about its effectiveness.
    Working out a logistics problem in chapter ten of Private Demons kept Amy busy for the rest of the afternoon. By the time she switched off the word processor for the day she was reasonably satisfied with her solution to the heroine's dilemma. The nightmare Amy had created in the book had substance, but there was a way to contain it.
    A good therapist, Amy knew, would undoubtedly figure out right away that she was using the novel to try and work through the things she couldn't seem to work through in her head. Nightmares could be handled in a book such as Private Demons; real life was proving to be another matter.
    She had finished scrubbing clams and shelling shrimp and was opening a bottle of Chardonnay when Jed's familiar knock sounded on the door. A small frisson of anticipation trickled through her nerves.
    Wiping her hands on the red kitchen towel, Amy went to answer the door, not quite certain what to expect from Jed.
    She opened the door, took one glance at the weary way he was leaning on the cane, and knew that Jed Glaze wasn't going to be launching any assaults on her that evening. A sense of relief went through Amy.
    She firmly ignored the equally disturbing sense of disappointment she felt.
    "You look like warmed over oatmeal," Amy declared as he moved slowly over the threshold.
    "That's a fairly accurate description of how I feel. I hate to admit this, but I took your advice and went to Mullaney's this afternoon. Don't gloat. I can't take gloating just now."
    "I'm not gloating, I'm relieved. What did he say?" She closed the door and watched with concern as Jed lowered himself carefully into one of the deep, badly sprung armchairs.
    "He said," Jed announced, "that everything's healing okay, but that I'm pushing myself too fast. I need," he shot a grim look at Amy's questioning face, "tender loving care. Rest. Good food. Someone to keep an eye on me for a few days. Someone, in short, to fuss over me. Did you by any chance phone Mullaney and prompt him?"
    "Not me. I swore off fussing at eleven this morning. I decided I lack experience and skill in that art. But I'll admit I'm glad you had Mullaney look at the leg. I've got some very nice, very expensive painkiller here." Amy walked back into the kitchen to pick up the bottle of Chardonnay. "Want some?"
    "An excellent idea. I'll use it instead of pills this evening." He leaned back in the chair as she poured the wine. When she returned to the living room he accepted the glass with obvious gratitude. Then he said baldly, "I figure I could take the couch tonight."
    Amy raised her eyebrows. "You're serious? You want to spend another night here?"
    Jed contemplated the wine in his glass. "I think Mullaney's a little nervous about that fever I had last night.
    He wants me to have someone within yelling distance in case it comes back tonight."
    Amy smiled. "What am I supposed to do for you if you yell?"
    "Feed me some pills he gave me." Jed touched the side pocket of his slacks. "Just what I need. More pills. I'm sorry to impose, Amy. If you'd rather I didn't stay another night, just say so. I'll be fine on my own."
    "I've already told you, you're welcome to stay another night," she said softly. "And you can have the bed."
    "Couch."
    "You won't fit on the couch. Don't argue with me, Jed. This is my house, remember?"
    "And you're bossy by nature."
    "Think you can stand another night of my nagging?"
    He grinned. "I brought some earplugs."
    Several hours later Jed wished he hadn't been joking about the earplugs. The scream that woke him was the kind that taught a man the meaning of cold chills down the spine.
    He rose from