When Lightning Strikes Twice by Barbara Boswell Read Free Book Online

of a wise woman’s guidance. Oh, he was a craftyone! Rachel met his eyes. An almost-tangible current sizzled between them. “This game of yours isn’t working, Mister Cormack.”
    “No? Well, since I’m clueless as to what game, it’s a good thing you’re here for a play-by-play analysis, isn’t it?”
    “I refuse to indulge in games of one-upsmanship with you. Out of the courtroom, of course.” Rachel took a giant step backward. He was still too close for comfort, and she was excruciatingly aware of his size and strength.
    “Is that what we’re doing?” He took a step toward her, closing the distance, and they went through the paces again. Her retreat, his advance—until she had backed herself against the door. He stopped when she did, inches away from her.
    “You’re deliberately trying to physically intimidate me—and it’s not working!” She was aware that she was obfuscating, a useful courtroom tactic, but not too convincing right here and now. His tactics were working all too well. She’d literally backed away from him, her breathing quickening, visible symptoms of a successful physical intimidation.
    “It’s not working at all,” she added, striving for total denial.
    “Just to set the record straight, I’m not trying to physically intimidate you. Which means I’m glad you aren’t—physically intimidated by me, that is.”
    His voice sounded oddly thick, a husky rasp. Rachel raised her eyes to his.
    She could feel the heat emanating from his body and a bolt of undeniable sexual electricity rocked her.
Why did he have to be so masculine, so virile?
And why was she acutely, and uncharacteristically, susceptible—to him, of all men?
    A strange combination of confusion and fury tornadoed within her. She alternately felt like laughing and cursing. In her entire twenty-eight years, she’d never met anyone who affected her like Quinton Cormack. Everything he didor said got under her skin and provoked an overreaction.
    In fact, he could do nothing and still evoke a response from her, Rachel admitted grimly to herself. Simply being in his presence unsettled her like nothing else ever had….
    And then, shockingly, alarmingly, the floor began to shake and the framed pictures and diplomas on the walls rattled as the entire office seemed to go into motion.
    Startled, Rachel pitched forward. She heard a great roaring sound and immediately remembered watching CNN’s earthquake coverage and the survivors who always mentioned a terrible, roaring-engine sound that accompanied those great jolts in the fault lines.
    Now, the unthinkable had happened—an earthquake had hit New Jersey. If she survived, she herself might be one of those shaken victims talking to eager on-site reporters.
    Automatically, she reached for the nearest, strongest, and most stable object to hold onto. That happened to be Quinton Cormack. Her fingers grasped the lapels of his gray suit jacket and she felt his arms come around her. He held her firmly, anchoring her against him. For a moment, she leaned into his solid frame, her eyes squeezed shut, feeling the strength and power of his arms encircling her.
    “Relax.” His lips were somewhere around the vicinity of the top of her head. “It’s just the ten-eighteen commuter train into Philadelphia.”
    Rachel opened her eyes. The sound was already receding into the distance and the building had stopped shaking. It wasn’t an earthquake, only the High Speed Line. Still too unnerved to feel the acute embarrassment that would surely follow, she lifted her head to see Quint gazing down at her. She felt a hot melting sensation deep inside her.
    “Does that happen often?” Her voice was soft and slightly breathless. “It felt like we were being launched into space from a rocket pad. How do you stand it?”
    “You get used to it. The trains run to and from the city twice an hour.” He dropped his arms that were holding her tightly against him, but not before running his hands overthe