Strangers in the Night

Strangers in the Night by Linda Howard, Lisa Litwack, Kazutomo Kawai, Photonica Read Free Book Online

Book: Strangers in the Night by Linda Howard, Lisa Litwack, Kazutomo Kawai, Photonica Read Free Book Online
Authors: Linda Howard, Lisa Litwack, Kazutomo Kawai, Photonica
away.”
    His tone was quiet and sincere, and worked a strange kind of magic on her. How could a woman fail to be, if not reassured, at least calmed by the very evenness of his words? Her alarm faded somewhat, and Thea found herself being shepherded once again toward the house. This time she didn’t try to stop him. At least she could change into something more suitable before they had this talk on which he was so insistent.

    She pulled away from him as soon as they were inside, and gathered her tattered composure around herself like a cloak. “The kitchen is there,” she said, pointing. “If you’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee, I’ll be with you as soon as I get dressed.”
    He gave her another of his open looks of pure male appreciation, his gaze sliding over her from head to foot. “Don’t bother on my account,” he murmured.
    â€œYour account is exactly why I’m bothering,” she retorted, and his quick grin sent butterflies on a giddy flight in her stomach. Despite her best efforts, she was warmed by his unabashed attraction. “The coffee’s in the cupboard to the left of the sink.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.” He winked and ambled toward the kitchen. Thea escaped into the bedroom and closed the door, leaning against it in relief. Her legs were still trembling. What was going on? She felt as if she had tumbled down the rabbit hole. He was a stranger, she had met him only the day before, and yet there were moments, more and more of them, when she felt as if she knew him as well as she knew herself, times when his voice reverberated deep inside of her like an internalbell. Her body responded to him as it never had to anyone else, with an ease that was as if they had been lovers for years.
    He said and did things that eerily echoed her dreams. But how could she have dreamed about a man whom she hadn’t met? This was totally outside her experience; she had no explanation for it, unless she had suddenly become clairvoyant.
    Yeah, sure. Thea shook her head as she stripped out of the nightgown and opened a dresser drawer to get out bra and panties. She could just hear her brothers if she were to dare mention such a thing to them. “Woo, woo,” they’d hoot, snorting with laughter. “Somebody find a turban for her to wear! Madam Theadora’s going to tell our fortunes.”
    She pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and stuck her feet into a pair of sneakers. Comforted by the armor of clothing, she felt better prepared to face Richard Chance again. It was a loony idea to think she’d met him in her dreams, but she knew one sure way of finding out. In every incarnation, her dream warrior’s left thigh had been scarred, a long, jagged red line that ended just a few inches above his knee. All she had to do was ask him todrop his pants so she could see his leg, and she’d settle this mystery once and for all.
    Right. She could just see herself handing him a cup of coffee: “Do you take cream or sugar? Would you like a cinnamon roll? Would you please remove your pants?”
    Her breasts tingled and her stomach muscles tightened. The prospect of seeing him nude was more tempting than it should have been. There was something dangerously appealing in the thought of asking him to remove his clothing. He would do it, too, those vivid eyes glittering at her all the while. He was as aware as she that, if they were caught, he would be killed—
    Thea jerked herself out of the disturbing fantasy.
Killed?
Why on earth had she thought that? It was probably just the dreams again—but she had never dreamed that
he
had been killed, only herself. And he had been the killer.
    Her stomach muscles tightened again, but this time with the return of that gut-level fear she’d felt from the moment she’d heard his step on the porch. She had feared him even before she’d met him. He was a man whose reputation preceded him—
    Stop

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