Dear Crossing by Marjorie Doering Read Free Book Online Page A

Minneapolis network affiliates.
    Now, hours later, worry lines marred the twenty-six-year-old woman’s face as she waited to hear further details. Her wait proved fruitless. Either law enforcement officials in Widmer had nothing new to release or they were stonewalling. She absentmindedly chipped away at her ‘Rosy Future’ nail polish while wondering if her own rosy future shared the same fate.
    For two years she’d played by Paul Davis’s rules—more or less, anyway. She shared a bed with him at his convenience, kept their relationship discreet, bought into his promises and overlooked his lies. Well, not so much the last.
    While substantial, the perks of being his mistress still paled in comparison to the benefits of being Mrs. Paul Davis. At long last, Valerie was out of her way. With his wife gone, Paul couldn’t keep putting her off. Even Chet Stockton, Valerie’s doting father, couldn’t fault him for eventually moving on with his life.
    Chet’s ignorance of their affair surprised her. Maybe Valerie’s daddy wasn’t as sharp as everyone claimed, or maybe he chose to wear blinders. Paul, after all, was a valuable asset to his business. Maybe Stockton’s love for his corporate baby took precedence over his flesh-and-blood child. Dana smirked.
    Maybe it was just as well Paul’s wife had been put out of her misery. Unlike Dana, at least she wouldn’t have to listen to Paul whine about wanting to take over ACC anymore. Until Chet stepped down and let Paul succeed him, Dana would still have to put up with it. If she could turn things around, that is.
    On Friday night, her plans had been placed in serious jeopardy. Paul had shown up as angry as she’d ever seen him, ranting about Chet reneging on his upcoming retirement date. He wanted her “to be there for him.” To be there for him, for godssakes. Her sympathy was in short supply.
    Friday night’s argument played in her head like a movie trailer—Paul sitting with his legs straddling the corner of the mattress, his first three shirt buttons undone—her doing. She knelt behind him, letting her arms snake over his shoulders, her bare breasts pressing against his back as she slid her slender fingers through the chest hair beneath his shirt.
    In her mind, she saw it again—heard it all, word for word.
    “Dana, stop it. I told you that’s not why I’m here tonight.”
    “No harm in trying to change your mind, is there?”
    “I’m not in the mood.”
    “What’s next? ‘I’ve got a headache?’”
    Paul stripped her arms from his body. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
    She shrugged it off. “Why doesn’t someone just give that old fossil the heave-ho? Stockton’s a lot older than that Keeling guy who got the boot tonight, right?”
    “No one tells the company founder and president when to call it a day.” He stood and paced. “Chet’s had an exceptionally long run. I’m sick of waiting for him to get out of my way.”
    “Now you have some idea how I feel about your wife.”
    Paul’s voice reverberated off the bedroom walls. “Shut up, Dana. For God’s sake, let it be.”
    She grabbed a nail file from the nightstand and sat cross-legged in the center of the bed, shaping her nails—a sound she knew set his teeth on edge. “If you wanted to be left alone, why’d you bother coming here in the first place? You could’ve gotten that treatment at home.”
    An ominous silence loomed between them.
    She ignored the weight of his stare. “How much longer are you going to keep me waiting? When are you going to leave her?”
    His silence persisted.
    “Know what, Paul? I don’t think you’re as upset about good old Chet delaying his retirement as you claim. You’ve got Valerie, me and a vice-presidency, too. Poor, baby. That’s gotta be hard to take. I don’t know how you stand it.”
    She sat with both heels tucked beneath her trim hips, her lustrous strawberry-blonde hair cascading to a point just above the swell of her breasts. It was a