A Distant Summer Read Online Free Page A

accompanied her to the door. She touched the lock. Paused. The knock came again.
    “Who is it?”
    “Tucker.”
    Her fingers trembled. The lock was stubborn; her powers of reason were even more so. Finally, she opened the door to the dark-haired, blue-eyed reality of her past and faced again the private war of wanting things she couldn’t hope to have.
    Tucker was unprepared for the uncertainty he saw in her expression. Wispy strands of silvery gold feathered her face and neck. Her brightly patterned skirt looked somewhat crumpled; her blouse was unbuttoned to the shadowy cleft of her breast, as if she’d absently loosened it to a more comfortable level. Her feet were bare, her legs a creamy tan. He noticed the details of her appearance in that first moment, but her questioning gaze allowed him to do no more than notice.
    The shadows were there, yet he thought there was a shy gladness, a definite welcome in the soft gray eyes. The mystery of her intrigued him, her casually disheveled beauty captured him, and all he could do was smile. “Hello,” he said. “It’s tomorrow.”
    “Yes.”
    Why did he feel so awkward with her? “May I come in?” he asked. She hesitated, and he held his breath. He’d had a suspicion she would ignore his messages, so he’d come in person and waited in the lobby for her to return. When finally he’d seen her at the front desk, an unexpected attack of nerves had kept him in his seat until she’d entered the elevator and disappeared from view. He’d followed slowly, knowing he wanted to see her but unsure if she would want to see him. And now it seemed as if she might close the door in his face.
    “Yes, of course. Please, come in.” She stepped back, and he walked into the hotel room, not overly encouraged by her polite tone.
    As she closed the door and moved toward the window, an aura of intimacy drifted into the air he breathed. He had never before been so aware of the fragility of a moment or of the many different levels of communication possible in a movement, a look, a silence. It was suddenly vital that he convince her to spend the evening with him.
    “What happened today?” Kris turned her back to the curtained window and offered a tentative smile to conceal her disquiet. “At the courthouse.”
    “The insurance company settled with Abernathy yesterday afternoon.”
    “What? Just like that? But what about the trial?”
    The rueful shrug of broad shoulders beneath a somber frown expressed a tightly controlled frustration. “Jury selection was just beginning. The trial hadn’t actually begun, but my attorney thought it would be best to settle and avoid accruing any further expense.”
    “But the legal fees would have been taken care of in a judgment, wouldn’t they? And you would have won the case. I’m sure of it.”
    A touch of gratitude lightened the sapphire of his eyes. “The insurance company isn’t blessed with your foresight or your faith, Kristina. They played it safe. So as of this morning, the suit’s been dropped, and for all practical purposes it’s over.”
    “You don’t sound as if you believe that.”
    His brows formed an arch of disillusionment. “Just because something has ended doesn’t necessarily mean it’s over.”
    Kris dropped her gaze, feeling the truth of his words in a dozen memories. She knew firsthand that some things were never over. “Despite the fact that the whole thing seems grossly unfair to you, I’m glad it’s settled. I know you must be relieved.”
    “I’ll feel better about it if you’ll agree to celebrate with me tonight.”
    How could she refuse? Kris licked dry lips. “I’d love to, Tucker, but I can’t. You see, I planned to— to—” What? She couldn’t think beyond the moment and the tension clenching along his jawline.
    “Is it the lawsuit? Does it bother you that I was accused of malpractice? Is that the reason you’re so reluctant?” His voice was edged with impatience as he shoved a hand into a