Impulse by Vanessa Garden Read Free Book Online Page A

tiny prickle of jealousy tickled the back of my neck, but it was completely unreasonable. I had no claim on Robbie, sisterly, friendly, or otherwise. I’d pretty much ruined his friendship with Marko, and they’d been like brothers.
    No. That wasn’t true. Sylvia had ruined Robbie and Marko’s brotherly bond, not me. It was her lies that had poisoned things between them.
    When I opened my eyes they fell on a massive hardcover resting on top of the bookshelf. It was a book I’d always wanted to read, The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett.
    â€˜Perfect,’ I whispered. I needed something huge and epic to temporarily sweep me away from my very odd current predicament.
    I lugged the huge slab of a book back to bed with me and was soon sucked into the darkness and danger of medieval England. For the first hour or so the distraction of the story worked, but then I heard what I thought was a low voice, mumbling, and then a soft moan, from behind Marko’s door, and I couldn’t read another word.
    Setting the book down and using the corner of the bed-sheet as a bookmark, I got up and tiptoed across the room. Putting my ear to the door that separated us, I strained to listen, but heard nothing. Perhaps he’d rolled over in his sleep. Or, perhaps he had—I hated to think it— company. It was all too easy to remember the way the women of Marin had looked at Marko, as though he was some kind of man-banquet they wanted to dig into.
    I edged away from the door, sickened at the idea of Marko with someone else. But then an irresistible pull drew me back. The need to know was overpowering.
    Without pausing to consider my actions, I placed my hand on the doorknob and turned. It was unlocked. At a snail’s pace, I opened the door and peered inside the room, the hinges creaking in the process.
    As I’d recalled, Marko’s quarters were much larger than mine. Though most of the area—the dining room and lounge—were well lit with light-crystal chandeliers, his bedroom was dim, lit only by a lone light-crystal lamp on the bedside table.
    He was in bed, alone, sprawled out on his back with an arm thrown across his face. His chest was bare, pale and smooth. I stood there gaping at his spectacular sleeping form. The noises I’d heard had been Marko’s sleep talk.
    Before I could backtrack to my room, Marko stirred, moved his arm away from his face and opened his eyes. He lay there, blinking at me for a moment, with that lost, dreamy look on his face, as if he wasn’t quite awake yet. Perhaps if I retreated without saying a word, he’d roll over and go back to sleep, and forget I had ever entered his room.
    But just as I drew the door to a close, Marko said, ‘Miranda,’ in a low, sleep-gravelly voice that sent a thousand warm tingles spreading across my skin.
    I sucked in a deep breath and opened the door, halfway, so that only a portion of my peeping-Tom face showed.
    â€˜Is everything okay?’ he asked.
    â€˜Sorry. I couldn’t sleep and I thought…thought I’d heard something.’ I drew the door almost shut. God this was embarrassing. ‘I’ll just go back to sleep now.’
    â€˜Wait, come back.’
    I gently pushed the door open and slipped back into Marko’s room. It smelled of the beach, and pine, and that distinct man smell that made my blood swish through my veins extra fast.
    â€˜You sure you’re okay?’ He was sitting up now, the sheet bunched up around his waist, his face serious with concern, until a half-smile formed on his lips. ‘I wasn’t snoring, I hope?’
    â€˜No, no snoring. I just thought I heard…voices. It was nothing.’ I kept my eyes on his, not allowing them to slip down to his naked chest. It was a struggle, and a good reason to get out of there, fast. ‘Okay, then, goodnight.’
    â€˜Wait.’ He frowned and chewed on his full bottom lip.