Another Kind of Love Read Online Free Page A

bitter Scotch and letting its strong flavor remind her that men are strong, masterful. That’s what a woman wants from a man . . . the rough possessive touch, isn’t it? Only, she knew it wasn’t true. Karl, she remembered, had always sensed her moods, her needs. Without a word he had always known just what she wanted. But how many men can do that? she asked herself silently.
    Or is it me? she wondered. How can Walter sense what I want if I’m not in love with him? It was a disturbing thought.
    Walter took her free hand in his and gently touched her arm with his lips. “I want you,” he said hoarsely. His eyes met hers with unguarded sincerity. “It’s not that crude,” he explained hastily. “I don’t want you to think that I consider you just another Hollywood party girl; you know I don’t. Besides loving you, I really like you . . . before, and even more important, afterwards. It’s not easy to find someone you can truthfully say that about.”
    â€œI know; I know,” Laura said almost harshly. She realized that he was sincere, but somehow she found herself detached from the moment—detached from herself. The feeling of his lips and the visualization of how the scene would look to someone walking into the room . . . the entire situation was too much for her. She began to laugh but caught herself up short when Walter looked up at her, his face darkened with confusion bordering on anger.
    â€œI’m sorry, Walter. I wasn’t laughing at you. It was just . . . well, it seemed so much like a silent movie—the picture of us I had in mind as we sat here.” Well, she hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings—at least, she didn’t think she had.
    He snorted lightly. “I see what you mean. The big embrace.”
    He stood up slowly and ruffled her hair to show there were no hard feelings.
    â€œPour me another drink, will you?” She heard herself ask. It was as if her own mind was foiling any attempts she might make to consider matrimony or the possibility of letting down her barriers to share herself with a man for the rest of her life.
    â€œSure, darling,” Walter answered, and brought the half-empty bottle from the bar. “Here you go.”
    Laura stared at him as he poured, and thought almost maternally that he was really an awfully nice guy.
    â€œWhat’s your interpretation of love, Walter?”
    He laughed. “Hollywood propaganda to sell more movies . . .” He tucked the tip of his tie into his shirt and pulled Laura over onto his lap.
    â€œI can see this is not the night to discuss anything serious with you.”
    They sat quietly for a moment, each deep in thought.
    â€œWalter?”
    â€œHmm?” His thick eyebrows raised slightly, making deep frown lines on his forehead.
    â€œKiss me. Kiss me hard so that I ache and cry for you to stop.”
    â€œA minute ago you wanted to be kissed softly,” he chided lightly, and leaned over her. His nostrils were dilating, and there was a gleam of urgency in his eyes.
    Laura’s breath came heavy now; her eyelids felt thick and her temples throbbed. “That was a minute ago. A woman can always change her mind.”
    He let his large hands wander over her roughly and took her mouth hungrily, as if his very existence depended upon his ability to envelop her mouth and reach into her with his tongue.
    She could feel her lips being crushed under his teeth, and it was good.
    It hurt like hell, but it was good.

C hapter 3
    L aura awoke in the morning to a bright sun in a smog-free day. As she threw back the covers, she was startled to feel her arm and leg muscles aching uncomfortably. Then last night returned to her quickly, and she smiled slowly to herself. “Little Miss Passion Flower,” she said aloud.
    She showered quickly, her mind working on what she would have to do today: finish up that article about Ron Ramsey and his horse. And, oh