A Killer Christmas by Cherry Adair

Author:Cherry Adair [Adair, Cherry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION/Romance/Suspense
Publisher: Adair Digital Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

SEVEN

Kendall’s heart throbbed erratically at her boldness, and her stomach twisted with the rejection, even though he was right. Her skin prickled sweaty and hot. She didn't blame him. For God's sake, they'd known each other for all of a minute. He must think she was a nutcase.

"Hey, don’t worry about it," she told him brightly. "You’ll be sitting right there keeping guard while I sleep, right?"

"Kendall-" he whispered.

She lifted her chin.

His gaze flickered to her throat- the scar- then came back up to meet hers. All she read there was pity. An emotion she’d seen more times than she cared to remember. Thanks to Treadwell, she’d forever be The Surviving Victim. Little else seemed to matter to people.

She almost remembered a time when people looked upon her with acknowledgement – praise even – for the way she’d picked herself up after the court ordeal. She’d made a life for herself – defined that life. And now that was gone.

"It's late and I'm three stages beyond exhausted," she inserted around a genuine yawn. After all, what man would want to put his mouth anywhere near the red, welt of a scar? It was a painful truth, one she wasn’t sure she'd ever get used to. She added that to her mental list of reasons for wanting Treadwell to burn in hell.

She yawned again. "Wake me when it’s time to leave, okay?"

The tremor she’d been battling since Joe had told her about Treadwell’s escape intensified as she walked across the room to the high, king-sized bed. Why was she mad at him? They didn’t know one another. He’d kissed her. No big deal.

She tossed the decorator pillows onto the floor with a little more gusto than was warranted, then pulled back the terracotta-colored velvet spread with hands that shook a little.

Fully dressed, she climbed under the covers, lay on her side and curled into a ball. Her fingers went to her neck. The scar always throbbed when she thought about that night.

She usually slept naked. Now, with damp hair, and twisty clothes, she was uncomfortable. She also felt antsy, annoyed, and sorry for herself, all of which pissed her off. She didn’t know who she was madder at; Treadwell for creeping back into her life like the rodent he was, or Joe for tempting her, but not being tempted enough by her, or herself for- she didn’t know for what—which annoyed her even more.

As tired as she was, now she couldn't freaking sleep. She lay still. Not moving, not twitching, not showing Joe that she was awake. That lasted oh, sixty seconds. She had to straighten the sweater that was riding up uncomfortably. Then her leg itched. . .

The room was warm, but she burrowed under the blankets anyway. Blocking out the flickering light. And Joe. She wanted to bury her head like an ostrich. The problem was, when she came up for air, the situation would be exactly the same.

She tried to concentrate on just how damn, freaking uncomfortable she was trying to sleep in her clothes.

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