Love of Her Lives Read Online Free

if Bethia was in danger. What if he was already too late?
    An auto with a taxi sign approached. He stepped off the curb to halt the vehicle. It screeched to a stop with the driver waving his fist.
    “Good day, sir.” He opened the door and slipped in beside the driver.
    “What crazy thing you do. Are you an insane man? I almost run you down.” The taxi man’s brown eyes blinked repeatedly in a chestnut face that showed little composure.
    “Calm yourself. My reflexes are sharp. Carry on, now. We must make way to Ashbury immediately.”

Chapter 4
Risk Not, Live Not
    The woods darkened as the sun vanished behind a cloud. Beth’s mouth went dry. She looked over her shoulder to see a quarterback–like guy walking on the trail that ran along the river. The criminal that banked in the woods?
    Truly it would be a wild coincidence for the guy who’d buried the backpack to come along just as she dug it up.
    With the backpack slung over her shoulder, she hurried toward her house with her ears tuned to his footsteps. Halfway up the yard, she spared a glance over her shoulder.
    What a ridiculous imagination she had. The guy didn’t stray from the trail or seem to notice her.
    Safe inside, she tipped the pack to empty the contents onto her kitchen table. Out slipped one large cash–filled Ziploc followed by one sandwich–sized, marijuana–filled Ziploc. Nothing in the pockets, except … oh, this was interesting. One business card — Chantal Desjardins, RE/MAX Alliance, Quebec City. A real estate agent. Odd.
    Beth put the business card aside, glanced out her kitchen window, and removed a pack of bills from the baggie. A fan through the stack revealed twenty dollar bills. She counted out two hundred bills and did the math — $4,000. Ten similar stacks were nestled together. A quick calculation meant she had $40,000 on her kitchen table.
    Lucky thing her father had planted the fear of God in her when she was young. She pictured His divine pen poised to besmirch her good record if she dared take one crisp bill. Way to go, Dad. Besides, she had her own money, lottery girl — $1,472,000, a life–changing win.
    Shocking how fast money goes.
    The police station sat out on the highway at the other side of town. She read the clock on the microwave. Ten thirty. Given that she needed to leave the house soon to pick up lunches for her Meals on the Move clients, she’d have to drop the backpack off afterward. Volunteers were hard to come by, and the elderly shut–ins depended on her for their meals.
    As Beth stuffed the money and drugs back in place, the doorbell rang. She scooted down the centre hall, opened the door, and nearly gasped.
    A man stood on her porch, not just an everyday man, but an incredibly stunning one who oozed vitality at first glance. Why she would gasp at the sight of him, she didn’t know. Their eyes met. His lips parted into a slow smile under eyes of boundless blue, a rich summer-sky blue, the kind that drew your eyes up to take notice.
    He pulled in a long breath. “Bethia.” The name slid off his tongue like a sensual whisper that floated into her ear. The stunning smile he shot her was laced with such confidence; she paused for a second before answering. No one had ever called her Bethia. “Not exactly, no.”
    “You are Beth Stewart.” His voice was deep, husky, and rich in substance drawn from a far–off place. Celtic origins, for sure. Strands of his shoulder–length, crème–caramel hair, brushed his cheekbones. A quick flick of his head removed the length of hair from his face. The gesture looked oddly familiar, but she supposed the motion was common enough for a man with long hair.
    “I am Calum Cunningham, a professor from the university.” He offered his hand which she shook, keenly aware when his thumb brushed against the sensitive centre of her palm. With a gentle twist of his wrist, he pulled her hand to his lips and laid a kiss on her skin that dispersed like a soothing caress