When Next We Love by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

flesh burned from the arousing possession of his subtly exploring hands. They traced the graceful angle of her neck, wanned her back and shoulders to a glow of anticipation, hovered over her breasts until a hot chill of desire blotted out everything except …
    The shrill cry of the door bell.
    Sanity returned. Leigh stared at Derek with horror, watched as triumphant amusement crept into his eyes, then fled from the doorway and up the staircase just as James was opening the door. Reaching the sanctuary of solitude, she dimly heard the musical tinkle of a female voice as she closed her own bedroom door and bolted it firmly. She was shaking from head to toe, consumed by hot and cold, shamed, humiliated, and … empty.
    She stared at the bolted door for a while, then began mechanically to pull the pins from her still-damp hair. Glancing over at the bed, she began to tremble anew as she saw an assortment of tailored shirts. Some were short-sleeved, some long-sleeved. They were Derek’s. He hadn’t forgotten his offer.
    Her first instinct was to push the lot of them onto the floor. But that action would be foolish. Emma would be the one to suffer. She watched them warily instead, as if they might come alive and attack her. Then she sighed, kicked off her shoes, and disrobed. She chose a long-sleeved pinstripe with tails that reached halfway to her knees and began to pace the room as she buttoned it. She was coming down with a ferocious headache. Perhaps the night air could help clear the tension causing the pain. Barefoot and clad only in the absurdly large shirt, she opened the sliding doors to the balcony and stepped out into the wind. She slid the door closed behind her and leaned against it as the salt breeze tickled her face. It did feel good. The house was air-conditioned and comfortable, but there was nothing like the air of the sea on a night such as this.
    She stood for a long time, thinking. She would never forget the day that she had met Richard and Derek either. She had been idly snorkeling in the surf off her father’s beach house when she had risen from the water to discover the two handsome young men wandering along, apparently lost. She had informed them that they were on private property, but they had quickly cajoled her into entertaining them. Their names—first ones only were given—didn’t mean a thing to her. She knew of the London Company—everyone did. They had cut their first gold album when all were still in their teens. Their work in the first years came out sporadically as each spent time in acclaimed music schools. Then, as graduates, they began to put out a constant flow of quality work. Before the oldest member, Richard, reached thirty, all five members were millionaires and celebrities. They had scored movies and plays, appeared on prestigious television specials, and performed before president and queen.
    But when Leigh came across Richard and Derek, she accepted them as a pair of poor, confused British tourists. They had talked awhile, flirted in the gently rolling waves, and then Leigh had invited them for dinner. Her dad had been alive then, and the occasion had been tremendous, her father showing a definite interest in Derek. Both men had courted her teasingly, but Derek had been involved with a buxomy stewardess at the time and it was Richard who pursued her, a little awed at the discovery of his fame, to the altar. Richard wanted a wife. A wife, she discovered, to be a centerpiece. But he was, at times, good to her. He had been her buffer from pain at her father’s death; he had chosen Key West as his permanent home because she loved it. For certain kindnesses, she loved him.
    And yet, she thought guiltily, she had never felt for Richard what she did for Derek. Her blood had never boiled at the near sight of him, she had never reached the plain of heaven in his arms …
    No! Although she didn’t scream aloud, the word reverberated in her mind. She clenched her teeth and shivered,