After Midnight by Diana Palmer Read Free Book Online Page A

Lombard.
    He unlocked the passenger door and helped her inside. “It’s not very neat in here,” he said, apologizing. “I use this old rattletrap for fishing trips, mostly. I like to angle for bass down on the Santee-Cooper River.”
    â€œYou don’t look like a fisherman,” she remarked. She clipped her seat belt into place, idly watching his hard, dark face and wondering at the lines in it, the silvery hair at his temples. He was older than she’d first thought.
    â€œI hate fishing, as a rule,” he replied. He started the Jeep and reversed it neatly, wheeling around before he sped off down the beach highway. The sun was shining. It was a glorious morning, with seagulls and pelicans scrounging for fish in the surf while a handful of residents walked in the surf and watched the ocean.
    â€œThen, why do it?” she asked absently.
    â€œMy father loves it. He and I have very little in common, otherwise. I go fishing with him because it gives me an excuse to see him occasionally—and my younger brothers.”
    â€œHow many do you have?”
    â€œTwo. No sisters. There are just the three of us. We drove my mother crazy when we were kids.” He glanced at her. “Do you have family?”
    â€œNot many, not anymore,” she said, her voice very quiet and distant.
    â€œI’m sorry. It must be lonely for you.”
    â€œIt’s not bad,” she replied. “I have friends.”
    â€œLike the one who lets you share the beach house with him?” he asked pointedly.
    She smiled at him, unconcerned. “Yes. Like him.”
    Kane made a mental note to find out who owned that beach house. He wanted to know the name of the man with whom Nikki was involved. It didn’t occur to him then that his very curiosity betrayed his growing involvement with her.
    All along the beach, people were beginning to set up lawn chairs and spread towels in the sun. It was a warm spring day, with nothing but a sprinkling of clouds overhead.
    â€œI love the ocean,” Nikki said softly, smiling as her wide green eyes took in her surroundings. “I could never live inland. Even the freighters and fishing boats fascinate me.”
    â€œI know what you mean,” he agreed. “I’ve lived in port cities all my life. You get addicted to the sight and sound of big ships.”
    He must mean Houston, but she couldn’t admitthat she knew where he was from. “Do you live here?” she asked.
    â€œI’m on holiday,” he said, which was true enough. “Do you stay here, all the time?”
    â€œNo,” she confessed. “I live farther down the coast.”
    â€œIn Charleston?” he probed.
    â€œSort of.”
    â€œWhat does sort of mean?”
    â€œI live on the beach itself.” She did. She lived in one of the graceful old homes on the Battery, which was listed in the National Register of Historic Places and which was open to tourists two weeks a year.
    He could imagine in what kind of house she normally lived. He hadn’t seen her in anything so far that didn’t look as if she’d found it in a yard sale. He felt vaguely sorry for her. She had no one of her own except her indifferent lover, and her material possessions were obviously very few. He’d noticed that she drove a very dilapidated red MG Midget, the model that was popular back in the 60s.
    â€œFeel like a cup of coffee?” he asked, nodding toward a small fast-food joint near the beach, with tables outside covered by faded yellow umbrellas.
    â€œYes, I do, thanks,” she told him.
    He parked the jeep and they got out. Nikki strolled to the beachside table and sat down whileKane ordered coffee. He hadn’t needed to be told how Nikki took hers. He brought it with cream and sugar, smiling mischievously at her surprise.
    â€œI have a more or less photographic memory,” he told her as he slid onto the seat across from