The Lady and the Lion Read Online Free Page B
Author: Kay Hooper
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary
rooted here. He knew it was dangerous, but the greater danger lay in what he might do if he forgot what peace and pleasure felt like.
She probably wouldn't be there, he thought. She'd probably checked out and gone home, back to the man who wanted her to be with him. The gentleness in her voice as much as her words had told Keith she would go a long way to avoid hurting anyone deliberately.
And tonight, he had felt the urge to kill.
He got up and set the empty juice bottle aside, crossing the room to the balcony doors and opening them. He went out into the cool darkness and settled onto the chaise, looking straight ahead without seeing, but listening intently. And as soon as he heard her, he spoke.
"Good morning."
"Good morning," she responded a bit breathlessly. "I thought you must have gone. Yesterday, I mean."
Keith rested his head back against the chaise, feeling his tense muscles begin to unknot. "No. there was... something I had to do." I had to stay away from you. But I can't.
"You sound tired," she said, the concern in her voice obvious.
"Too tired to sleep. I need to unwind." He wondered, vaguely, if she felt the effect of this as strongly as he did, if she realized how easily they perceived each other's moods—not as strangers, but as friends.
"Do you want to talk?" she asked, a bit hesitant.
Closing his eyes, Keith said, "Your voice is very soothing. If you wouldn't mind—?"
One of her soft laughs escaped her. "I don't mind, but you might. You're so easy to talk to that I probably won't know when to shut up. Just tell me when, and I will."
He smiled slightly. "Agreed."
"What do you want me to talk about?"
"Anything you like." Anything sane. "Tell me if you've found any answers for those dawn questions."
"All I'm sure of," she said wryly, "is that I've found more questions. But I did call London, and I told him I wouldn't be coming home."
"For good?" Keith asked, only then aware that he wanted her to say yes.
"Surprisingly enough, that's what I said. He was... stunned. He says we have to talk, but I told him I needed time to myself. I don't know how patient he'll be." She paused, then laughed suddenly.
He was intrigued by the sound. "What?"
"Oh, it's absurd! I guess I felt a little self-conscious before, and didn't want to explain. I mean, well, I'm twenty-eight years old; I hardly wanted to say that Daddy had called and ordered me home."
Keith felt a jolt of relief, the depth of which disturbed him. But he managed to say lightly, "Understandable. But there was more, wasn't there? Another reason. You didn't want me to think you might be available?"
"That was part of it," she answered frankly. "So many men seem to think every single woman is looking for involvement. Sometimes it's very annoying. But for some reason, I wanted you to know the truth. It is my relationship with my father we've been talking about."
"I see."
"You aren't offended?"
"No, of course not."
"Good," she said with a sigh.
Keith knew an impulse to ask her name or offer his, but ignored it. If he could keep the peculiar relationship between them like this, dawn meetings on a dark balcony, then perhaps he could limit the danger to him—and to her. If he could control at least the depth of this...
"In a way," she said reflectively, "you remind me of my father."
"God forbid," Keith said before he could stop himself.
There was a startled silence on the other side of the screen, and then she said, "I meant the tone of your voice sometimes. And your perception."
"Your father is perceptive?" Keith swore inwardly, telling himself grimly to keep his distance, to remain detached and impersonal.
"About everyone except me. Do you think that's common between fathers and daughters?"
Unbidden, thoughts of his own father and his sister darted through his mind, so painful they might have been knives. "I don't know," he said finally. "My sister... always said Dad was her best friend."
"I'm sorry."
Her
She probably wouldn't be there, he thought. She'd probably checked out and gone home, back to the man who wanted her to be with him. The gentleness in her voice as much as her words had told Keith she would go a long way to avoid hurting anyone deliberately.
And tonight, he had felt the urge to kill.
He got up and set the empty juice bottle aside, crossing the room to the balcony doors and opening them. He went out into the cool darkness and settled onto the chaise, looking straight ahead without seeing, but listening intently. And as soon as he heard her, he spoke.
"Good morning."
"Good morning," she responded a bit breathlessly. "I thought you must have gone. Yesterday, I mean."
Keith rested his head back against the chaise, feeling his tense muscles begin to unknot. "No. there was... something I had to do." I had to stay away from you. But I can't.
"You sound tired," she said, the concern in her voice obvious.
"Too tired to sleep. I need to unwind." He wondered, vaguely, if she felt the effect of this as strongly as he did, if she realized how easily they perceived each other's moods—not as strangers, but as friends.
"Do you want to talk?" she asked, a bit hesitant.
Closing his eyes, Keith said, "Your voice is very soothing. If you wouldn't mind—?"
One of her soft laughs escaped her. "I don't mind, but you might. You're so easy to talk to that I probably won't know when to shut up. Just tell me when, and I will."
He smiled slightly. "Agreed."
"What do you want me to talk about?"
"Anything you like." Anything sane. "Tell me if you've found any answers for those dawn questions."
"All I'm sure of," she said wryly, "is that I've found more questions. But I did call London, and I told him I wouldn't be coming home."
"For good?" Keith asked, only then aware that he wanted her to say yes.
"Surprisingly enough, that's what I said. He was... stunned. He says we have to talk, but I told him I needed time to myself. I don't know how patient he'll be." She paused, then laughed suddenly.
He was intrigued by the sound. "What?"
"Oh, it's absurd! I guess I felt a little self-conscious before, and didn't want to explain. I mean, well, I'm twenty-eight years old; I hardly wanted to say that Daddy had called and ordered me home."
Keith felt a jolt of relief, the depth of which disturbed him. But he managed to say lightly, "Understandable. But there was more, wasn't there? Another reason. You didn't want me to think you might be available?"
"That was part of it," she answered frankly. "So many men seem to think every single woman is looking for involvement. Sometimes it's very annoying. But for some reason, I wanted you to know the truth. It is my relationship with my father we've been talking about."
"I see."
"You aren't offended?"
"No, of course not."
"Good," she said with a sigh.
Keith knew an impulse to ask her name or offer his, but ignored it. If he could keep the peculiar relationship between them like this, dawn meetings on a dark balcony, then perhaps he could limit the danger to him—and to her. If he could control at least the depth of this...
"In a way," she said reflectively, "you remind me of my father."
"God forbid," Keith said before he could stop himself.
There was a startled silence on the other side of the screen, and then she said, "I meant the tone of your voice sometimes. And your perception."
"Your father is perceptive?" Keith swore inwardly, telling himself grimly to keep his distance, to remain detached and impersonal.
"About everyone except me. Do you think that's common between fathers and daughters?"
Unbidden, thoughts of his own father and his sister darted through his mind, so painful they might have been knives. "I don't know," he said finally. "My sister... always said Dad was her best friend."
"I'm sorry."
Her