Be Mine Read Online Free Page A

found a stall shower she knew she would cry from disappointment.
    Half an hour later she emerged, rejuvenated by the jasmine- scented water in the capacious white tub. The dark red bathroom carpet pampered her feet and a radiant heater warmed the air.
    Warm, clean and relaxed, Sabina decided her unsettling response to Chad Peters earlier in the day loomed larger in her memory than in reality. The transient nature of her job brought her into contact with virtual strangers every few days. After a night’s sleep she would see him as an ordinary man, and the momentary flutter his coffee-colored gaze gave her nerves could be dismissed as a figment of her imagination.
    Sabina luxuriated in the slide of lace-trimmed satin over her skin. She pulled on a softly pleated deep blue wool skirt and matching cashmere sweater over her one feminine vice. If her job required sturdy, practical clothing, she could at least feel a little glamorous underneath it.
    As she slipped into narrow matching flats, she reached for her hairbrush to whisk her simple haircut into place. The mirror reminded her that in her preoccupation, she’d forgotten makeup. Shrugging, Sabina did a rush job with blusher and eye shadow.
    “That should do it,” she said, grateful her thick lashes passed muster without mascara. She made her way through the small bedroom, stopping only to test the lovely, springy bed with her hand. “I’m going to enjoy you tonight,” she promised.
    The thump and beat of rock music assaulted her ears as she entered the main house. She followed its compelling rhythm past the oak table set for five, through an old-fashioned arch, and across the hall, where she stopped abruptly, her hand resting on the polished wood of a second oak-framed arch.
    As unnatural poses went, the scene in front of her took the prize. An athletically built blond teenager was bent backwards, her hands clasping her ankles while she balanced on her toes. An equally blond young man sketched rapidly on an artist’s block.
    “Hurry up, Daniel. I’m breaking in half, and I’m afraid he’ll catch us,” the girl pleaded.
    Sabina knelt beside the absorbed artist and peered over his shoulder. The sheet held four other completed drawings, one of the girl standing on her head and three others in equally gymnastic positions. Each mirrored the strength and grace of her young body with minimal strokes of soft lead. The thick pencil moved as an extension of the boy’s long, blunt-tipped fingers.
    The swiftly moving pencil made one last series of shading. “Done, Eric. You’d better comb your hair. When I’m famous I’ll immortalize you in oil . . . only I’ll make you look dignified.” He noticed his audience belatedly. “Excuse me, ma’am. I didn’t hear you come in.”
    “I didn’t want to interrupt genius at work. Those are fantastic drawings. May I look closer?”
    He extended them hesitantly. “Sure.” He cast a nervous glance toward the hall before continuing, “You must be the lady from Natural Resources. Gran said you were here. I’m Daniel Kincaid.” He rose to his feet.
    “And I’m Erica,” the girl said.
    Sabina looked up, her breath catching as she stared at the tall, golden-haired adolescents. “Viking children,” she murmured involuntarily. Daniel’s masculine, high-cheekboned face was feminized in his sister, whose head came nearly to his ear. “I’m Sabina Hanlon. I’m sorry I peered over your shoulder, Daniel, but I was fascinated by how quickly you were working.”
    “I’m glad you didn’t interrupt. I was about to die, and I couldn’t have matched the pose later,” Erica responded. “We wanted to get this done before our cousin gets here. He . . . thinks Daniel takes advantage of me, which of course he doesn’t. We’re twins, you know.”
    “I’d sort of guessed that,” Sabina said wryly. “I’ve heard it’s impossible for one twin to take advantage of the other.” Erica had been about to say something else, then