Storm Over the Lake by Diana Palmer Read Free Book Online Page B

played slowly in the distance.
    Dana got up. “I’ll fix it. Reporters,” she told the older woman, “are resourceful. Or they get barbecued by city editors.”
    She got on the phone and called an old friend at the local daily paper. From her, she got the name of a good local band, which could be had, fortunately, on thespur of the moment, and the address of a good local deli. She sent Frank for cold cuts, called the band and in five minutes had everything wrapped up.
    â€œMagic,” Lillian murmured, shaking her head in awe.
    â€œUnicorns,” Dana laughed. “I believe in them, you know.”
    She stayed in the kitchen with Lillian when the guests began to arrive, every one of them late, and the band was already winding up its first number by the time Adrian Devereaux arrived—with the dragon.
    Fayre Braunns was the perfect foil for Adrian’s satanic darkness. She was blond, petite, with eyes so big and green that they seemed to dominate her sharp face. She was wearing a white lace pantsuit that clung like skin to her slender figure, contrasting violently with the dark brown silk of Adrian’s open shirt and white slacks. They made the perfect couple, Dana had to admit, feeling an emptiness in the region of her heart as she watched the blonde cling to him.
    She hadn’t dressed for the occasion, wearing faded denims and a blue and white checked knit top, but the sweep of her blond hair gave the old clothes an elegance she wasn’t aware of.
    She was finishing another tray of bacon-rolled dates for canapes when she heard the door open behind her.
    â€œI’ll have this batch ready in a jiffy, Lillian,” she said cheerfully, arranging parsley around the edges of the tray.
    â€œHiding, Meredith?”
    She tensed at the sound of that deep voice, her muscles contracting when she felt him move closer, felt the warm vibrancy of his powerful body just behind her, almost touching.
    It was the first contact she’d had with him since the argument, and she didn’t want it at all.
    â€œLillian and I thought it would be better if we shared the kitchen chores while we were here,” she murmured.
    â€œDid you?” His big hands slid onto her waist, drawing her gently, slowly back against him so that she could feel the hardmuscle of his thighs, his flat stomach, his chest. His breath was warm beside her ear.
    â€œWhat are you making?” he asked.
    â€œThey…they’re date and bacon rolls,” she whispered.
    â€œWhat do they taste like?”
    Impulsively, she picked up one of the tasty morsels and, turning slightly, held it to his chiseled mouth. He took it, his lips brushing her fingers as he savored it.
    â€œNot bad,” he said with a grin, his eyes washing over her soft, flushed face. “Did you make them, Persephone?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd some mushrooms in hemlock gravy?” he teased.
    She smiled at him. “Only as a side dish,” she replied.
    His eyes held hers, narrowing, glittering, as the smile left his mouth. His big hands tightened on her waist in a hungry, painful grip.
    â€œWhy don’t you turn around?” he murmured in a deep, lazy tone. “I’d rather taste you than the canapes.”
    She blushed to the roots of her hair.“I…I have to finish these,” she protested breathlessly, tugging at his big, warm hands.
    His open mouth ran up and down the softness of her neck in a sensuous, slow caress. “You smell of spring buds opening after a soft gray rain. No heavy perfume. No stiff hairspray and layers of makeup. You make me hungry, wood nymph.”
    She drew a deep, slow breath. “Would you like another canape?” she asked, trying to make a joke out of it.
    â€œCome outside with me,” he murmured at her ear, his teeth lightly nipping the lobe, “and let me make love to you.”
    â€œMr. Devereaux!” she whispered shakily.
    Soft, deep laughter was