Dark Heart by Margaret Weis

Author:Margaret Weis [Weis, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 2011-07-18T08:21:27+00:00

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Margaret Weis and David Baldwin She looked at him again, sleeping quietly on the far side of the huge, canopied bed. Part of her wanted to snuggle up beside him, to sleep through till morning and wake up in his arms in that glorious bed. But she could not allow that. She had a job to do—one he would get in the way of if she let him into her life in any real way. And, more importantly, she had no intention of giving her soul to a man again.

Never, never again.

Chuck had destroyed any hope of that forever.

She found her clothes and her possessions, scattered in passion scant hours before. She slipped the garments on, most of them, though they were sadly the worse for wear, and picked up her purse. She left her underthings behind—they’d been torn past the point of usefulness in their first breathless rush of passion. She hoped those scraps of silk were all she was leaving behind.

But she feared she’d lost something much more precious than a few shreds of clothing to Justin. She was desperately afraid that, somewhere down there in the tangle of clothing and pillows on the plush carpeting, she was leaving behind a big piece of her heart.

She tried not to think about it. Whatever she feared had happened last night, it was over now. It would end right here, right now. She would see to it.

Pausing one last moment beside Justin’s sleeping form, Sandra watched his chest rise and fall with his breathing, the way his eyelashes fanned out over his cheekbones, so long and thick they almost appeared to be fake. She wanted to touch him, kiss him. She shook DARK HEART

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her head. After all she’d been through, you’d think she’d have learned. Men were predators, and women their preferred prey. Even the best of them expected the house to be clean, the meals to be on the table, and the shopping to be done while they were off doing manly things. The worst of them would kill or maim at the slightest excuse. Use them or they will use you, she thought. Nothing good can come of this.

She turned and fled the room.

Home at last, Sandra emptied her pockets onto her dresser in the first faint blush of morning. She thought about turning on a lamp but left it off. The darkness was comfortable.

She felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Her stomach was queasy and her head hurt, the alcohol and nicotine chasing each other in a painful relay through her body.

She had gone out seeking clarity. Instead, she’d indulged in a wonderful distraction that was likely to cause her more pain than it was worth.

Frowning, she decided she wouldn’t let it get to her. She had too much at stake to fall apart over a man.

Unbuttoning her blouse, she started digging through her closet for something new to wear. She tossed the ruined blouse on the floor.

Think of the case, she told herself.

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