Expiration Date Read Online Free

seduction.”
    Seduction …
Delivered in a whisper, the word seemed to reverberate through the shell of the bus, and Clay felt glances shift his way. Beside him, Henna laid her head back with eyes closed.
    He cleared his throat. “Thanks for the advice, but, uh, I need to be going.”
    Henna said nothing. When he tried to pass into the aisle, her legs resisted him with the stubbornness of a rusty gate.

    Summer Svenson sensed movement to her right. Was she being watched? She peered through the trees of Founder’s Park, saw nothing, shrugged away her uneasiness. She and Mylisha continued pacing the walkway. Within minutes the bus would bring Clay Ryker back into their lives.
    “You seem nervous.”
    “Me?” Summer pursed her lips. “Little edgy, that’s all. What about you? It’s been years since you’ve seen Clay. You think he’ll still look the same?”
    “I sure hope so, girl.”
    “Aha, you
do
have feelings for him.”
    “Some.”
    “Teenage romances die hard. Better watch out,” Summer kidded, “or I might steal him away. You know you’re no match for my long legs.” She pretended to model, stretching first one leg, then the other.
    “Put those things away before you blind someone.”
    Summer laughed, turning to examine her friend. They’d met almost thirteen years ago while playing high school basketball. On the court, they’d been aggressive and unstoppable; off court, giggly and girlish. Things had changed for them, in early ’92. Human nature had shown its darker side.
    Summer nudged her friend’s leg with her own. “Don’t try to deny it, Mylisha.”
    “Deny what?”
    “I know you. You’ve been missing Clay since the day he left for college.”
    “Maybe. But,” Mylisha clarified, “I’ve no intention of stirring things up again. He’s a married man.”
    “Ah-ah-ah. Correction. A man going through a breakup.”
    “So we’ve been told, but you know the kind of stories that spin through this place.” Mylisha stood and moved toward the park’s fenced display.
    “I say he’s all yours for the taking, Mylisha.”
    “A man on the rebound? No thank you. Last thing I need’s sloppy seconds.”
    Again Summer felt a predatory heat—as though some lecherous old man were watching her from the shadows. She thought of mentioning it, then joined her friend in perusing the bronze plate’s description of the freshly painted train before them.
    The 1904 Finnish locomotive was a throwback to the railroad’s glory days. Sent to Oregon as a gift between countries, she’d found a place of honor in Junction City. A survivor of four separate wars, and one of only two such remaining engines, this beast of burden had played its role in the Bolshevik Revolution.
    The Bolshe-what?
    Summer reached through the fence to touch the machinery, realized it was as cold as the history it represented.
    So what if she didn’t know world events? She knew things about good ol’ JC, things that’d make your hair stand on end. Five thousand people, give or take, and she had dirt on a fair percentage of them.
    Secrets were her cash in the bank. A little blackmail could go a long way.
    Mylisha seemed fascinated by the train. She said, “We studied the revolution in one of my college courses. Did you know the word
tsar
comes from the Latin word
Caesar
? You think about it, Summer, and it’s kinda crazy. Lenin escaped from Russia on an engine like this.”
    “Hellooo? Since when have I cared?”
    “Don’t you think it’s … mysterious? Lenin could’ve been on this very engine.”
    “I thought Lennon was from England. From Liverpool.”
    “Girl. Tell me you’re not that stupid.”
    “Just messin’ with you.” Summer shrugged. “But I mean, honestly, you’re talking about some Russian dude who lived, what, seventy, eighty years ago. Why should I care?”
    “Because history’s full of lessons. My people’ve taught me that.”
    “What’s the lesson here? I guess I
am
stupid.”
    Mylisha checked