All Through the Night by Shannon McKenna, Lori Foster, Suzanne Forster, Thea Devine Read Free Book Online

crew neck of her dress loose enough to slip off her shoulder. From there she got her arm out—and realized she was dealing with a straitjacket, not a dress. Graceful it wasn’t, but she knew better than to stand up and pull the bulky thing over her head. It was ankle length, and she would be too wobbly. Not to mention exposed . She could just imagine getting stuck, her arms and head inside, the rest of her outside.
She liberated the other arm and inched the dress down to her behind. It took a near back flip to get it to her ankles. Kicking her feet free was another high point, but it brought more blood rushing to the surface. Her color had to be approaching magenta by now. As she wiped the dampness from her brow, she realized the thermal underwear had to go too, but, then, oops, she would have nothing left but a pair of high-cut bikinis and a tank top.
“Pretty damn sexy,” she murmured, when she was finally down to the essentials. She’d never thought of herself in those terms before, but then she’d never undressed for a man in quite this way before. Actually, she’d never undressed for a man in any way, but her guide didn’t need to know that.
She straightened her tank top and felt a zing zing of electricity run through her. There were a couple parts of her that were still humming—and quite urgently aroused. Her breasts were taut and budded. They didn’t seem to care whether the rest of her was glowing or not. They’d just come in from the cold.
“Would you look at that,” she whispered in disbelief.
“Look at what?”
“The twins. I look like Cindy Crawford without a bra.”
He made a throat-clearing sound, and she glanced up, startled. “Oh, sorry. It’s just that I’m so warm and they’re so… perky.”
He seemed to be staring at her, and there was a pensive quality to his expression.
“Jean? You’re awfully quiet. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything is fine.”
“You sound a little tense. Is it me? Am I doing things you’re not programmed to respond to?”
“I wouldn’t put it exactly that way, but there are times when someone like me… when someone like me… wishes…”
Oh, don’t stop now.
She was so caught up with the words she couldn’t breathe. But his sea-deep eyes were beautiful. They seemed to be imbued with the ocean’s hypnotic power.
Wishes what?
It sounded as if he’d cleared his throat again, and that possibility astounded her. Why would a computer simulation be hoarse?
“Jean? You were saying?”
“There are times when someone like me wishes he were real, Kerry. This is one of those times.”
“Oh, me too, Jean. I wish you were real. I really do.”
Her voice betrayed her, too. It was so raspy she could hardly get the words out. She grabbed for the tea to clear her throat, but she didn’t have a firm grip on the handle, and some of it slopped on the keyboard.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, staring at the poof of smoke. There was a hot sizzling sound, a shower of sparks, and the computer screen went dark.
Kerry jumped up from the chair and flipped the keyboard upside down to drain the spilled tea. She had a sinking feeling it was too late, the damage had been done, and she had no idea how to fix it. She’d never been into the nuts and bolts hardware. She was an idea person. Or she used to be.
“Jean? Are you there? Are you there? Oh, no, please tell me I didn’t short out the keyboard!”
Not only wasn’t he there, but the computer didn’t seem to be there, either. Kerry did everything she could think of to get it restarted, but it was like trying to resurrect the dead, and she wasn’t likely to get any help. It was late afternoon and one look outside told her she wouldn’t get a repairman today. It had been snowing again, heavily, and the road was heaped with white.
Distraught, she picked up the game box and was gripped with the crazy need to apologize to it. It almost felt as if she’d killed someone. Of course, that wasn’t true. It was a game, and he