Deadly Fall Read Online Free Page A
Author: Ann Bruce
to mind that satisfied exhaustion that comes after a bout of hot, sweaty, dirty sex. Nick had instantly become hard, and his erection showed no signs of subsiding any time soon. Thank God she hadn’t bothered to look down past his chest. He hadn’t returned the courtesy. He could still see the long, slim, smooth legs below the masculine jersey. The hockey jersey was much too big for her—at least four sizes too big—yet she didn’t look childish at all. Instead, she appeared fragile…extremely sexy and very, very fuckable. Hell, even her toes were sexy.
Nick shifted again in his seat, trying to control the laughter that threatened to erupt at his sudden absurdity.
She was nothing like the usual women he slept with. First of all, she was too…little. That was the only word for her. His last girlfriend had been a tall, leggy blonde. She had been a perfect thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six. Actually, it had been more like thirty-six, thirty-two, thirty-six, but Claudia had always insisted on that twenty-four. Nonetheless, she had been a boyhood fantasy come true. Augusta Langan, on the other hand, looked as if he could break her with one hand even if he only exerted the slightest pressure. But he could just imagine how tight she’d be. How snug. How hot. How wet. Ah, hell.
“Drew doesn’t—didn’t—like to give up,” Augusta said, drawing Nick out of his wholly inappropriate erotic reverie. Admiration and amusement colored her tone. Then her smile died. “But he eventually did on the divorce.”
“So everything was amiable between the two of you?” asked Ethan, his expression a studied mix of concern and professionalism.
“Now it is. Was.” Her brows drew together. “I was hurt and angry for two months after he came and confessed, but that’s in the past. I couldn’t stay mad at him for long.”
Nick snorted. It was a sound of clear disbelief.
As if she just had a shot of caffeine to her system, Augusta’s spine went rigid and she lowered her knees, her hands coming to rest on the edge of the breakfast table. She steadily met his eyes.
“What you have to understand, Detective,” she began coolly, “is that Drew Langan and I were friends long before we got married. We were friends for almost half our lives, which is a lot longer than a great number of marriages these days. It was something neither one of us wanted to lose.”
Nick lifted a brow. “Despite the cheating?”
Augusta froze, and Nick watched while she fought with herself. Then she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose without looking away. “Despite the cheating.”
“No kids?”
The haunted look that came into her eyes made Nick wish he could take back the question.
“Lifestyle choice,” she said finally.
Nick pushed on with his role. “What kind of settlement were you going to get, Dr. Langan?”
Her expression didn’t change, but any traces of sleepy softness that remained were ironed out. “Nothing.”
“Pre-nup?”
“No. Drew and I trusted each other. Besides, I don’t need a man to provide for me, nor do I want one, despite what Drew’s family would have people believe.”
“You teach art, correct?”
She gave a terse nod. “European art history.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I also consult,” she added.
Ethan cleared his throat. “Dr. Langan, did you see your husband regularly then?”
She waited until her breathing was even once more before she replied, “Not really. He’s been busier than usual lately, but we talked at least once every week.”
“Did you notice anything unusual about him the last couple of weeks?”
“Unusual?’” she echoed. “Not really. I don’t…think.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Three days ago. Monday night, I believe.”
“Here?”
She nodded. “Yes, he came to see me. He needed to get away from work and his family,
Nick shifted again in his seat, trying to control the laughter that threatened to erupt at his sudden absurdity.
She was nothing like the usual women he slept with. First of all, she was too…little. That was the only word for her. His last girlfriend had been a tall, leggy blonde. She had been a perfect thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six. Actually, it had been more like thirty-six, thirty-two, thirty-six, but Claudia had always insisted on that twenty-four. Nonetheless, she had been a boyhood fantasy come true. Augusta Langan, on the other hand, looked as if he could break her with one hand even if he only exerted the slightest pressure. But he could just imagine how tight she’d be. How snug. How hot. How wet. Ah, hell.
“Drew doesn’t—didn’t—like to give up,” Augusta said, drawing Nick out of his wholly inappropriate erotic reverie. Admiration and amusement colored her tone. Then her smile died. “But he eventually did on the divorce.”
“So everything was amiable between the two of you?” asked Ethan, his expression a studied mix of concern and professionalism.
“Now it is. Was.” Her brows drew together. “I was hurt and angry for two months after he came and confessed, but that’s in the past. I couldn’t stay mad at him for long.”
Nick snorted. It was a sound of clear disbelief.
As if she just had a shot of caffeine to her system, Augusta’s spine went rigid and she lowered her knees, her hands coming to rest on the edge of the breakfast table. She steadily met his eyes.
“What you have to understand, Detective,” she began coolly, “is that Drew Langan and I were friends long before we got married. We were friends for almost half our lives, which is a lot longer than a great number of marriages these days. It was something neither one of us wanted to lose.”
Nick lifted a brow. “Despite the cheating?”
Augusta froze, and Nick watched while she fought with herself. Then she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose without looking away. “Despite the cheating.”
“No kids?”
The haunted look that came into her eyes made Nick wish he could take back the question.
“Lifestyle choice,” she said finally.
Nick pushed on with his role. “What kind of settlement were you going to get, Dr. Langan?”
Her expression didn’t change, but any traces of sleepy softness that remained were ironed out. “Nothing.”
“Pre-nup?”
“No. Drew and I trusted each other. Besides, I don’t need a man to provide for me, nor do I want one, despite what Drew’s family would have people believe.”
“You teach art, correct?”
She gave a terse nod. “European art history.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I also consult,” she added.
Ethan cleared his throat. “Dr. Langan, did you see your husband regularly then?”
She waited until her breathing was even once more before she replied, “Not really. He’s been busier than usual lately, but we talked at least once every week.”
“Did you notice anything unusual about him the last couple of weeks?”
“Unusual?’” she echoed. “Not really. I don’t…think.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Three days ago. Monday night, I believe.”
“Here?”
She nodded. “Yes, he came to see me. He needed to get away from work and his family,