The Lake House Read Online Free Page A

she buried her face in the blanket. Charlie jumped on the bed, bouncing the mattress with his large frame.
    “Why do you insist on doing this?” she snapped. They’d always kept different hours. He insisted on opening the curtains while he dressed for work. Sunlight put him in the right mood for the day. It made Heather pray for rainy mornings. She reached for the eye mask on the end table. The smooth material slipped between her fingers and fell to the floor. Charlie grabbed her wrist and rolled her to him, entwining their bodies. The sunshine pierced her retinas.
    “If you don’t want weeks of jet lag, you have to get back on East Coast time.” He bounded from bed. “Want to join me in the shower?”
    “You haven’t even showered?” He didn’t answer. She looked at the red LED lights on his nightstand—7:35.
    Charlie’s baritone voice drifted over the water’s sound as he sang in Italian. She shuffled to the kitchen, pulled out theindustrial-strength coffee she’d bought in Costa Rica, and leaned against the counter, waiting for the miraculous liquid to be ready.
    The overhead track lighting blinked on, and Charlie walked into the room. The coffee began to drip into the pot, and she bent over the coffeemaker to take in the aroma. Covered by only a white towel, Charlie’s erection pressed into her backside. He wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned until her ribs pressed painfully into the granite counter.
    “Want to go back to bed?” He nuzzled her neck.
    No .
    “I’ve missed you,” he said as he nipped her ear.
    “I’m tired.” She shifted her weight away from the counter and ducked out from under him.
    “I’ve heard that one before.” He grabbed the pot and emptied it into the cup she’d taken from the cupboard for herself.
    “Do you mind leaving some for the person who barely slept last night?” Heather fumed.
    “You mean the one who just spent a month lounging around in safari camps? The one who doesn’t have to go into the office today? God, you’re grumpy this morning.” Charlie slurped from the cup and walked away.
    Four aromatic ounces had collected in the pot. Heather poured them into Charlie’s Harvard Law mug and walked the short distance through the living room and into their bedroom.
    The large closet housed Charlie’s elaborate collection of suits. He pulled a navy blue ensemble from the dry-cleaner bag and laid it on the bed. Then he inspected a pressed shirt. Always the same routine: lay out the suit, check for rogue stains or wrinkles, get dressed, fluff his hair in the mirror. His shoes were kept in the front closet. When he came home at night, he buffed them,inserted shoe trees, then stored them in cotton bags inside their original boxes.
    Heather placed her mug on top of the bureau, knowing it would drive him crazy as he thought about water marks on the wood.
    Like clockwork he looked at the cup and then glared at her. “I’m not in the mood for one of your tantrums. If you’re trying to pick a fight, I don’t have time.”
    “I’ve heard that one before,” she said, mimicking his earlier comment.
    He belted his pants and sat on the bed to put on his socks.
    She tapped her foot, trying to control what was about to blow, knowing she should stop. She needed to have a conversation that was gentle and kind, but anger took over. “Maybe if someone had bothered to pick me up from the airport, I wouldn’t be so tired and grumpy this morning.”
    “That’s what you’re pissed about?” He buttoned his jacket and looked in the mirror. “You got in close to midnight. I have an important meeting this morning—about your career. Did you want me to stay up all night waiting for you at Logan?”
    “You were plenty awake for sex.”
    “Excuse me for wanting to be with my fiancé after she’d been away for a month.” He returned to the bathroom and she could see him putting gel in his hair. He came out and grabbed a tie from the closet. “You know, sometimes