The Best Way to Lose by Janet Dailey Read Free Book Online Page B

lines made parallel tracks in his cheek where her nails had raked at his flesh as he jerked his head away and grabbed at her hand.
    With a quick twist, she slipped free of his hold and backed away warily—especially with the steely glitter of his gaze swung back to her. Tentatively she drew the back of her hand across her throbbing lips. She was trembling, but less from fear and more from a bitter anger.
    “I was told you had no respect foranything.” She was breathing hard. “I never guessed how true that was.”
    His chest lifted in a deep and visible breath that seemed to wipe all expression from his face. “There’s no excuse for my behavior just now,” he admitted stiffly. A nerve twitched in his cheek. “So I won’t attempt to make one. But believe me—I regret this as much as you do.” She had wanted comfort and he had shown her lust. The knowledge disgusted him far more than she knew.
    “You regret!” In the face of his irreverent treatment of her, Pilar was outraged by his lack of contrition. “I want you to leave! Now! This very minute!”
    There was a second when Pilar thought he would protest being ordered out of the house that had been his home. After surveying her with a long, measuring look, Trace turned on his heel and walked out of the parlor. She heard his footsteps on the stairs, and suddenly her knees felt very weak.
    She sank into the nearest chair and pressed a hand to her lips. She could still feel the sensation of his hard, cruel mouth rocking across them, so forceful and demanding. Her eyes began to fill with tears—tears she hadn’t been able to cry before, but this time no sobs accompanied her spilling of pain.
    When Trace came down the stairs, he was dressed in the same clothes he’d worn the day he arrived, and the duffel bag was on his shoulder. He headed straight for the front door.
    “Trace?” Cassie’s voice was filled with question. “Where do you think you’re going?”
    He paused, his glance sliding past her toward the parlor. “I’ve been away from the river too long. You know how it is, Cassie.”
    “I know how it is with some, Trace, like my Oggie. But you—you’re seeking the danger and excitement of the river for some other reason. It doesn’t bring you any peace.” She eyed him with a shrewd and knowing look, her glance darting to the two faint red lines on his cheek. “What have you done this time, Trace? You’re running again.”
    “I was born to trouble—you said it yourself,” he reminded her with a twisted smile. Then a grimness settled over his features. “He asked me to look after her. I guess you’re going to have to do it for me.” His thumb caressed her cheek for an instant, then he pulled it away and headed for the front door.
    Cassie watched him walk out the door, so tall and straight—and alone. She was troubled for him. Trace had matured into a fine figure of a man, strong and intelligent. The aimless life he led was such a waste.
    A heavy sigh came from her when the door closed. She supposed it had been wrong to hope Elliot’s death might be good for his son. Slowly she walked to the parlor, wondering if anything would ever turn Trace around and prod him into making something of himself.
    When she entered the parlor, Cassie observed Pilar hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Trace has left.”
    “Yes, I know.”Pilar’s voice was husky and stiff. “He stayed for the funeral. What more did you expect?” She was brittly flippant and derisive.
    “Don’t misjudge him,” Cassie cautioned. “Trace isn’t as shallow as he might seem.”
    “I’m really not interested in discussing him.” She swung away, agitation rippling through her. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll go to my room and read for a while.”
    As Pilar started to leave the room, Cassie noticed the two glasses sitting on a table. “Now where did those come from?” she declared with a trace of exasperation. “I thought I’d carried everything out