Dark Summer Dawn Read Online Free Page A

'What's the matter? You said I'd called at a bad moment when you opened the door. Are you—entertaining?' His eyes went over her derisively, establishing beyond doubt that he knew quite well she was naked under the old towelling robe, and she flushed angrily.
    'No, I'm not,' she grated, and could have kicked herself. Perhaps if she'd lied and said, 'Yes—someone's waiting for me in the bedroom right now,' he might have left.
    'Then I'm fortunate to find you alone,' he said smoothly. 'I'd like some coffee.'
    For a moment Lisa stood glaring at him impotently, then she turned and went into the small kitchen. The towel round her hair was slipping and she tore it off impatiently, thrusting it into the small linen basket next to the washing machine. Her hands were shaking so much she could hardly spoon the coffee into the percolator. She began to set a tray with brown pottery mugs, pouring creamy milk into a matching jug. She heard a slight sound behind her, and glancing over her shoulder, realised that Dane was standing in the doorway watching her.
    'Do you have sugar?' She made her voice cool and social.
    'You've a bad memory, Lisa,' he said sardonically. 'How many years did we live under the same roof, and how many cups of coffee did you pour for me? No, I don't have sugar, and never have done.'
    'Too many,' she muttered.
    'Well, that's one thing at least we can agree on,' he said. He strolled forward, trapping her between his body and the worktop behind her. He put out a hand and tilted her chin, studying her face critically.
    His touch sent every nerve-ending in her body screaming. She wanted to strike his hand away. She wanted to use her nails and teeth to free herself like a cornered animal, but it would be no good, she knew. He was the stronger, and he would not hesitate to use his strength.
    He said silkily, 'You don't change, do you, Lisa? I remember you all those years ago—a little hostile creature, all hair and eyes.'
    She smiled, a little meaningless stretching of her lips. 'How odd you should say that. I was thinking much the same about you. Oh, not the hair, of course, but the hostility —and the eyes. They haven't altered at all. They're still cold.'
    As cold and as cruel as January, she silently added, meeting their greyness, noticing how their bleak light remained unsoftened by the heavy fringing of dark lashes.
    Dane said, 'Cold?' and smiled. 'Is that what you really think? Surely not.'
    Her breathing quickened a little. 'You wouldn't like to hear what I really think. Now if you want this coffee, you'd better let me make it.'
    He flung up his hands in mock capitulation and moved away, and Lisa felt limp with relief.
    When she carried the tray through to the living room, he had resumed his seat by the fire and was smoking a cigar. She felt a sudden surge of nostalgia as the scent of the smoke reached her. Chas had always smoked cigars and their faint aroma had hung round the house at Stoniscliffe whenever he was there, as if it was Christmas every day,
    Jennifer had said, laughing.
    She put the tray down.' What happened to the cigarettes?'
    'I gave them up about eighteen months ago.' He gestured to the cigar. 'Do you object to this?'
    'No, of course not.' She subdued an impulse to add it was the least objectionable thing about him, and poured the coffee instead. 'Why do you ask?'
    He gave a slight shrug. 'It doesn't fit in with the image here. A masculine intrusion into a purely feminine environment.' He paused. 'Or at least that's the assumption I'm making. Perhaps I'm wrong.'
    'Perhaps you are,' she agreed.
    He glanced around, brows lifted. 'You don't live alone?'
    'I don't live alone.'
    Dane was very still for a moment, then he moved abruptly, tapping a sliver of ash from the tip of the cigar. 'Of course not. May one ask where he is?'
    'No, I don't think so,' she said calmly. 'Perhaps now you'd like to tell me what you want from me.'
    'Not a thing, sweetheart—now or ever.' His voice bit. 'Let's get that