Darkness before the Dawn by Anne Stuart Read Free Book Online Page A

don’t want to bore him with details.” He smiled his friendly smile that hid his barracuda nature. “Randall’s easily bored,” he added to Maggie. “As long as we keep him reasonably entertained, he’ll help us. So we try to spare him all the nitty-gritty of everyday life.”
    “I don’t think I’d find Maggie boring.” His voice was lowand mesmerizing, and Maggie lifted her head and looked straight into his eyes.
    It was a heady experience. A sexual current was flowing between them, a hypnotizing threat that Maggie wanted nothing more than to succumb to. She’d avoided romantic involvements when they’d proved to be more trouble than they were worth. The man staring at her now was nothing but trouble, sheer, terrifying trouble, and normally she would have run. But not this time. She turned and faced him, an unconscious offering that said she was ready for the first time in years to take a chance.
    “How’s the wife, Randall?” Mike said.
    Randall had already learned to be impassive. He didn’t even blink. Maggie flinched and withdrew, physically, mentally, emotionally, pulling in on herself. “She’s fine, Mike. You already asked after her.”
    “Did I?” Mike murmured. “I must be getting forgetful. Maggie, we’ll go over everything you need to know tomorrow. You won’t be heading out until next week—we’ve got plenty of time to get you settled.”
    Randall wasn’t one to give up easily. “I think I’d do a better job,” he said. “And I’m at loose ends right now.”
    But Maggie had skittered away, nervous and remote. Jackson gave her an approving smile. “We wouldn’t think of bothering you, Randall. Maggie and I will handle this just fine.”
    But Randall had pursued her and had done everything he could to feed her attraction. He’d wanted her, wanted her like he wanted one of those damned works of art he collected, and he’d gone after her. And in the end he’d gotten her.
    The quiet snore from the sleeping figure opposite her startled Maggie out of her memories. This wasn’t how she’d envisioned spending her first vacation in years, she thought with self-deprecating amusement, which was only a defense against the pain. Hauling bodies around and then wallowing in unwanted memories of Randall Carter. It would be enough to depress even the cheeriest person.
    She reached for the bottle of Cutty Sark on the floor next to her chair, refilled her glass, and took a deep drink. She wasn’t used to drinking, and she would probably have a hell of a hangover tomorrow—when she’d have to handle the usually overwhelming arrival of her mother. But she’d be even more exhausted if she had no sleep at all, and the sudden reappearance of Randall in her life needed more than willpower to banish. Why the hell did he have to show up now, asking questions about grapefruit marmalade?
    And why had he had to show up in Eastern Europe six years ago, just as everything was falling apart?
    She’d managed to avoid him during the week before she left. Oh, he’d shown up in the office every now and then when she’d least expected it, and the feel of those dangerous eyes would pull her attention away from the maps and data she was trying to study, and she’d look up to see him, tall and perfectly clothed and somehow more threatening than any half-dressed savage. But Mike had run interference, more out of self-interest than the goodness of his heart, and Maggie had managed to keep her distance. She hadn’t been able to keep her imagination and fantasies under control, but no one knew. Except perhaps Randall Carter himself, who seemed to have the uncanny ability to read her mind.
    She’d found out about his wife. It had been easy enough to do—Marilyn Carter was a beautiful, socially prominent brunette who appeared often enough in the social pages of the
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for Maggie to memorize her patrician features. She’d even cut her picture out and stuck it to her refrigerator door during that endless,