Grand Passion by Jayne Ann Krentz Read Free Book Online Page B

glance back over her shoulder as she left the room. But she could feel Max's cold eyes on her all the way to the door.

    Fifteen minutes later, still seething from the small but extremely unpleasant scene in the kitchen, Cleo parked her car in the unpaved lot above the beach. Nolan Hildebrand's Jeep was the only other vehicle in sight. Few people came to the beach at this time of year.
    A cold, rain-soaked blast of wind struck Cleo as she got out of her car. It tore her hair free from its precarious moorings and whipped it into a froth around her face. There was a storm boiling out over the ocean. It would arrive within the hour. She intended to be back at the inn by the time it hit shore.
    And Max Fortune had better be gone when she got there, she told herself. She shook her head in disgust, unable to believe that she had misjudged him so badly. Usually her instincts about people were highly accurate.
    The Jeep door opened, and Nolan climbed out. He hurried toward her, the collar of his leather jacket turned up to shield his neck from the wind. The brisk breeze ruffled his light brown hair, accenting his handsome features. He carried a brown paper sack in one hand.
    Cleo contemplated him with a sense of affection. She had known from the beginning that Nolan was not fated to be the great love of her life. At the start of their relationship, he had made a few determined attempts to seduce her, but when she had declined the invitations to his bed, he had seemed oddly content.
    Nolan was a pleasant dinner companion, and Cleo genuinely admired his efforts as town mayor. He worked hard at the part-time position while practicing law at the small firm his father had established.
    “I was afraid you wouldn't show up.” Nolan came to a halt in front of her. He jammed one hand into the pocket of his jacket and regarded her with troubled eyes.
    A flicker of real concern went through Cleo. Something was obviously very wrong. “What's this all about, Nolan?”
    “I just want to know one thing.” Nolan thrust the paper sack at her. “Did you write this?”
    “What in the world?” But Cleo could feel the familiar shape of a book inside the sack. Her blood stilled.
    She opened the bag and glanced inside. She found herself gazing at a familiar stark white cover. The title, The Mirror , was embossed on it in the same shade of white. A length of scarlet ribbon curling evocatively across the bottom of the white cover was the only note of color.
    “Oh, dear,” Cleo murmured.
    “Did you write that?” Nolan bit out.
    “Well, yes. Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. It was published a couple of months ago.” She smiled tentatively. “My first book, you know.”
    “You published it under a pen name?” Nolan asked, sounding as though he wanted to be very certain of his facts.
    “Yes.” Cleo gingerly reclosed the bag. She cleared her throat. “It's, uh, considered a rather fine example of women's erotica, you know.”
    “ Erotica .”
    “It actually got very well reviewed in several literary magazines and one or two feminist journals.”
    Nolan gave her an outraged look of disbelief. “It's porn, that's what it is.”
    “Oh, no, definitely not.” Cleo clutched the book protectively to her breast. “I told you, it's erotica. There's a big difference.”
    “Not to the media, damn it. Not to every right-wing newspaper columnist who decides I'm too liberal on First Amendment issues. Not to the conservative, small-town voters of Harmony Cove.”
    Cleo bit her lip. “I don't understand.”
    “Christ, Cleo.” Nolan ran an exasperated hand through his wind-tossed hair. “I'm starting to build a political career. Don't you know what this kind of thing could do to me?”
    “I wrote the book, not you.”
    “Don't you see? It's bad enough that I've been dating you. What if we'd gotten married? I'd have been ripped to shreds as the husband of a porn queen.”
    Cleo stared at him. “You never said anything about marriage.”
    Nolan