AFTERGLOW Read Online Free

wear your own stripes. You know, the natural, fun, loving ones, and no changing in the middle of the river."
    "Stream," Chelsea said. "And it's horses, not stripes." She added, her voice glum, "Dr. Winter probably doesn't care for natural, fun, or loving."
    "Just give it a shot."
    "Look, David, it was all a mistake. George told me Chelsea had the flu. That's probably why you found her behavior a little weird. She was taking antihistamines and drinking, which isn't too bright, admittedly. That would make anyone odd. You did think she was okay, didn't you?"
    "Look, Elliot, she's a conceited little rich girl, just like—well, just like some women I've known. She's probably never done an ounce of work in her life, and she's got the nicest bot—" He broke off as a resident approached. After a quick discussion the resident left.
    "I've got to go, Elliot. A traffic accident."
    "About Friday night?"
    "All right. Seven o'clock."
    Chelsea, lost in San Francisco in the year 1854, didn't hear the telephone until the fifth ring. Sarah Butler, her part-time housekeeper, companion, phone answerer and good friend, was across the street at the grocery store, buying radishes for some unlikely concoction that would have only ninety-five calories in it.
    It was George. "Hi, Chels. Hope I didn't interrupt you, but everything is go for Friday."
    "I can't believe David Winter ever wants to see me again."
    "Well, he does, and he'll be here with bells on."
    "More likely another three-piece charcoal gray suit with a pearl-colored silk tie and a starchy white shirt."
    "My, what a memory you have for a man you didn't particularly like."
    "All writers have excellent memories," Chelsea said with great, but instant, untruth.
    "Sure, and all cats eat Alpo."
    "Now that's bizarre, George."
    "I know. Get back to the novel. I'll see you soon."
    "Chelsea," David said stiffly as he trailed behind Elliot into the Mallorys' living room.
    "Hello, David," Chelsea said, looking up from the sofa with a show of mild interest. Oddly enough, she felt a bit nervous, a very unusual state for her, and her voice sounded clipped as she said, "How have you been this past week?"
    "Busy. Very busy."
    "How interesting."
    Yeah, you sound fascinated, David thought, but said nothing. "You feeling okay, George?" he asked, turning to his hostess.
    George's back was throbbing more than usual, but she gave David her flawless smile. "Just fine, David."
    "Are you over your flu, Chelsea?" he asked.
    Chelsea looked at him blankly. George said in a very carrying voice, "Elliot! Where are you? We've got starving folk in here!"
    "Ah," Elliot said, emerging with a tray of goodies from the kitchen, "a man's work is never done. At least I'm not barefoot or looking like a spider."
    "Jerk," George said with high good humor. "Why," she asked, examining the tray, "is this cheese spread on crackers?"
    "Wash out your mouth, woman!" Elliot added to David, "She does know the difference, I think. It's my special homemade cheese ragomontade, artfully set on gourmet wheat—"
    George giggled. "Stop that, you're making it up. There's no such thing as ragomontade!"
    "Delicious," Chelsea said, "whatever it is. Do you cook, Dr. Winter?"
    He arched a brow at her. "Sorry, it's a skill I never acquired."
    "Ah, you found a wife to drudge for you, huh?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth she cursed herself silently. Why did she react to him with instant sarcasm?
    "Elliot," George sang out, "could you pour Chelsea some white wine?"
    "Yes, I did find a wife," David said, "but she didn't cook, either." Take that, you lovely-bottomed, smart-mouthed woman! My God, he thought, looking at her closely, she was blushing!
    Despite the reddened cheeks, David had to admit that Chelsea Lattimer looked quite lovely. He was sure he'd think so even if he weren't so horny. She was wearing a yellow silk dress with black doodles on it, and high-heeled black shoes. She'd probably come up to his Adam's apple, he thought. It