The Best Way to Lose Read Online Free Page A

ahead,” she refused and moved away from him to the waiting room.
    For a long moment he watched the natural sway of her hips as she walked from him. It was a graceful movement, yet so subtly provocative. His jaw hardened as he tossed a half-glance over his shoulder at the hospital room door and cursed himself for allowing his thoughts to take that wayward direction. His father was lying in that room and he was standing out here coveting his wife. A bitter, black bile seemed to coat his tongue. Trace turned abruptly, long crisp strides carrying him away from the waiting room.
    Twenty minutes later he returned with a cup of sweet, black coffee for his father’s wife.A family acquaintance was with her. She thanked him for the coffee, but Trace noticed that she didn’t touch it.
    Through the course of the early-evening hours several friends came by. None of them stayed long, speaking a few minutes with Pilar or himself and offering any assistance the Santees might need at this particular time.
    By nine o’clock it was just the two of them again. Trace took his time crushing out a cigarette in the ashtray, half filled with smoked butts. When his glance ran to her, she stood up and restlessly paced to the window.
    “What time are you planning to go home?” Trace studied her through eyes that were half closed to mask the closeness of his interest.
    “I’m not.” There was nothing to see beyond the darkened window and Pilar turned away from it, absently rubbing the stiff muscles in her neck, knotted with tension. “You can leave whenever you like. Cassie will be there to let you in. I’m going to stay here tonight.”
    “Why?”
    Her dark gaze shot to him, irritation simmering in their black brilliance. “So I can be here in case … Elliot calls for me.”
    The question hardly warranted an answer. She avoided the lazy probe of those gray eyes, too rawly conscious of the unreasoning dislike that had sprung up for the healthy son of her dangerously ill husband. There was a vague, nagging wish that he was the one in thathospital bed instead of Elliot, which only added to her feelings of guilt.
    “You need a good night’s rest as much as he does.” His head was tipped slightly back, its angle suggesting a challenge that his voice hadn’t carried.
    “If I get tired, I’ll curl up in one of the chairs,” Pilar retorted. “I know Elliot asked you to take care of me, but I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. There’s no need for you to be concerned about my wellbeing.” That bedside request had only added to her building resentment of this son of Elliot’s.
    He rolled to his feet in a leisurely slow fashion and ambled across the room to stand in front of her, his thumbs hooked in the hip pockets of his smooth-fitting denim pants. All that lazy male indolence made her bristle. She ached inside, hurting so much that lashing out in anger seemed her only means of vocalizing this pain and fear.
    “Maybe you’d like to explain how long you’ll be able to function on sheer nerve alone,” he murmured. “That’s all that’s keeping you going now. No food today. No sleep tonight.”
    “I think that’s my problem.” Her chin lifted a fraction higher, exposing more of the magnolia-smooth curve of her throat.
    “Are you trying to impress someone with a devoted-wife act?” He cocked his head to the side, measuring her with a dry glance. “No one but the hospital staff is going to witnessyour all-night vigil. All of Elliot’s friends are home. Or are you doing it because you think it proves you love him?”
    “I’m not staying for anyone’s benefit except my own,” she flared with indignation. “I want to be close by him.”
    “Staying here tonight won’t do him any good—or you any good,” he countered, unmoved by the cutting edge of her voice. “If he recovers from this attack, there will come a time when he’ll need every bit of your strength. Exhausting yourself now won’t help him