A Secret Life by Barbara Dunlop Read Free Book Online

damp palms inching along the painted rails. “There’s nothing wrong with the men I hang out with.”
    He moved again. “There is if they’re all looking up your skirt.”
    “They don’t look up my skirt.” At least not without an invitation.
    “Then why did you think I would?”
    “It was an overreaction, okay?”
    “First, you try to bribe me,” he grumbled. “And then you accuse me of being a Peeping Tom.”
    Heather took another rung. “Get over it, will you? How was I supposed to know you were a paragon of morali—” Her foot slipped. Her heart went to her throat.
    His arm closed tight around her waist, and he was a solid wall behind her. “You’re fine. I’ve got you.”
    “Damn,” she muttered, adrenaline thrumming through her body.
    “You okay?” he asked.
    She nodded, searching for the rung with her foot.
    He didn’t immediately let her go. Which was perfectly okay with her. If she had to stumble on a ladder twenty feet off the ground, Samuel was definitely the guy she wanted hanging on to her.
    His broad palm was splayed across her stomach, and his solid abs were pressed against her rear end.
    “I’m not much of a paragon at the moment,” he said.
    “You just saved my life.”
    “Yeah. But now you’ve got me thinking about your underwear.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    “J OANIE ?” Heather’s voice hissed in Joan’s ear as the bedsprings sagged beneath her weight.
    “What?” Joan groaned, refusing to open her eyes. Maybe sending the jet back and letting Heather stay a few days had been a bad idea. It felt as if she’d only been asleep for a few minutes.
    “I hear something.” Heather slipped under the covers in the queen-size bed.
    “Those are frogs,” said Joan, wrapping her arms around her pillow and burrowing her face more deeply into its softness.
    “Not the frogs. The thumping noise.”
    “Those are the cypress trees.”
    “It’s not trees.”
    “Yes, it is.”
    “Joanie.”
    “Do you still get nervous in the dark.”
    “I don’t get nervous in the dark.”
    “You’re nervous now.”
    “That’s because of the thumping noise.”
    “There is no thumping—”
    Something whapped against the side of the house.
    “That,” shrieked Heather, scooting closer on the bed.
    Joan opened her eyes, blinking in the dim bedroom. Moonlight wafted through the opaque curtains and danced along the ceiling and the walls.
    “What on earth?”
    “Call the police,” Heather hissed, fumbling for the phone on the bedside table.
    Joan slipped out of bed.
    “Where are you going?”
    “To look out the window. It’s probably an alligator.” They didn’t often come this close to the house, but every once in a while…
    “What if it sees you?”
    “We’re on the second floor.”
    “So what?”
    Joan pulled back the curtain, squinting into the yard. “They can’t jump.”
    “Can you see it?”
    “No.”
    “Then how do you know it’s not a person?”
    “Because Indigo is one of the safest places in the country. We don’t even lock our doors.”
    “You didn’t lock your door?”
    There was another thump, then a scraping noise.
    Joan had to admit it didn’t really sound like an alligator anymore.
    “I’m dialing 911,” said Heather.
    “Don’t call the police.” Joan crossed the room and whisked the phone from Heather’s hand.
    She was still avoiding Alain Boudreaux. She hadn’t returned his call. And she didn’t want to have to defend her position on the music festival.
    “We’re just going to sit here and let ourselves get attacked.”
    “There’s no crime in Indigo.”
    There was another thump, then a creaking noise.
    Heather’s voice went shrill. “Then what’s that?”
    “Probably a reporter.” Now that the words were out, Joan realized it was a distinct possibility.
    “Then call Anthony.”
    Joan glanced at the clock. “I’m not calling Anthony at three in the morning.”
    “Then I’m calling the police.”
    “I’m sure whoever it is will go away,”