If Winter Comes by Diana Palmer Read Free Book Online

women in deserted elevators.”
     
    Her face went
poinsettia red. “I wasn’t…”
     
    “Yes, you were,” he
mocked. “I’m aware of the dangers even if you aren’t, little girl. I didn’t
plan to pounce on you at your front door.”
     
    She studied his face,
trying to figure out the enigmatic statement, but it was like reading stone.
“Mr. Moreland…”
     
    “My name isBryan ,” he
corrected, standing aside to let her off the elevator as it stopped on her
floor.
     
    “Yes, I know,” she
murmured, “but it sounds so presumptuous…”
     
    “I won’t be ninety for
fifty more years,” he reminded her.
     
    She laughed in spite of
herself. They were at her door now; she turned, looking up at him, and some
vague longing nagged in the back of her mind as her eyes swept over his hard,
chiseled mouth. She couldn’t help wondering if its touch would be rough or
tender, and she was suddenly, dangerously, curious….
     
    “Don’t forget,” he was
saying. “Nine-thirty, my office.”
     
    “Can I bring a photog?”
she asked huskily.
     
    “Bring the whole
editorial staff, if you like,” he replied amiably. “It’s my favorite story, and
I love to tell it.”
     
    “Thanks again for
tonight.”
     
    “My pleasure, country
mouse,” he said with a quiet smile. “Good night.”
     
    “Good night,” she
replied nervously.
     
    His dark eyes dropped
to her mouth, then slanted up to catch the mingled curiosity and apprehension
in her shy gaze. He smiled mockingly just before he turned and walked away.
     
    She lay awake half the
night wondering why he hadn’t kissed her. It would have been the normal end to
an evening. It was customary. But he’d only smiled, and left her, not even
bothering to brush a kiss against her forehead.
     
    Was something wrong
with her? Wasn’t she pretty enough, attractive enough to appeal to him? Or did
he already have a girlfriend? The question tortured her. He had women, she
realized. He was certainly no monk. But why had he asked her out in the first
place, and what did he really think of her? Had it all been a ploy to get her
interested in his urban renewal program?
     
    Bryan Moreland was one
puzzle she couldn’t seem to put together, and he got more complicated by the
day.
     
    Bill Peck gave her an
odd look the next morning when she explained why she couldn’t attend a City
Planning Commission session with him.
     
    “We’ve done three
pieces on that damned downtown revitalization theme of his already,” he said
dourly. “Don’t you think he’s had enough free publicity?”
     
    “I’m working on a
story, in case you’ve forgotten,” she replied, irritated.
     
    “A story? Or the
mayor?” he returned.
     
    She gathered her purse
and camera and went toward Edwards’s office in a smouldering fury.
     
    “I’m gone,” she told
him.
     
    “Wait a sec. Come in
and close the door,” he called.
     
    She shut out the sounds
of typewriters and ringing telephones. “What’s up?”
     
    He motioned her to a
chair. “Suppose you tell me that,” he replied.
     
    Her brows came
together. “I don’t understand.”
     
    “Moreland took you out.
Then, this bogus story this morning—Carla, you’re not getting involved with
him, are you?” he asked kindly.
     
    “Why…no,” she lied.
“But, he isn’t even involved…”
     
    “Your informant called
me this morning.”
     
    “Is he after a job?”
she asked with a flare of anger. “First Bill, now you…is he going to call
everyone on the staff?”
     
    “He knows you’re seeing
Moreland,” he replied calmly, leaning back in his chair, “and he thinks the
mayor may be involved in this.”
     
    She felt something
inside her freeze. A cold, merciless, nameless something that had been in bud.
     
    “He isn’t,” she said.
     
    “How could you possibly
know? Be reasonable. You haven’t even been able to get to the records.”
     
    She clutched her purse
in her lap, her eyes staring at the