Kill the Competition by Stephanie Bond

Author:Stephanie Bond [Bond, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, General, Suspense, Contemporary, Fiction
ISBN: 9780061835490
Google: Gm5xy-yXdPUC
Amazon: 0060539836
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2003-10-27T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Being licked awake was not unto itself such a bad way to greet the day, but when the tongue belonged to a crotchety feline known for biting, it was less pleasant than alarming. Belinda turned her head into her pillow and pushed Downey off her chest. “I’m trying to sleep late.”

Downey yowled, indicating that was not to be the case.

Belinda opened one eye and peered at the alarm clock. 6:20 A.M.—later than she’d slept any weekday since moving to Atlanta, but after tossing and turning all night from unreasonable fear she couldn’t pinpoint, she felt far from rested. The daylight streaming through the mini-blinds danced warm and comforting over her bed. Strange how one’s anxieties could manifest, especially in the dark, and how unfounded they seemed by the light of day. She reached over to turn off the alarm that hadn’t yet rung and was rewarded with a breath-stealing pain shooting up her left arm.

Gritting her teeth, she held up her compromised limb. The swelling had gone down, but her wrist had turned a purpley-cranberry color—nice for Kool-Aid, not so nice for flesh tone. Her cheek still felt puffy and tender beneath her fingers, so she dragged herself out of bed for a look in the mirror.

Yilk.

She would not make an attractive boxer. A brilliant blue bruise highlighted her cheekbone and the outer edge of her eye. Pancake makeup and sunglasses would be the order of the day.

Making the bed was a bit of a challenge with her tender wrist, but she managed to make it look slightly less rumpled in the event her mother put in a surprise appearance (or psychic phone call). The cold front that had settled over Atlanta had pervaded her bedroom, raising gooseflesh on her bare arms and legs. She shucked her nightshirt and stood under the showerhead emptying the hot water heater. When she stepped out, pleasantly magenta-hued from the rolling boil, she switched on the radio to dress by.

Julian’s voice rolled out full-throated and sexy, hitting her in the glide. Last night…last night she wasn’t sure what had happened to her, what had made her scramble away from Julian. Panic attack? Hormonal heebie-jeebies? Or was she simply afraid that Julian was going to nail her to the wall on this new impulse of hers to break a few rules?

He was in good form this morning as Talkin’ Tom, diverting drivers around an accident at Jesus Junction (an intersection on Peachtree that boasted four sizable churches), and letting everyone know in thinly veiled code words that the police were patrolling the Alpharetta Autobahn (Georgia 400) southbound for speeders.

She wondered where the girls were in the melee, and what had happened in Rosemary’s evaluation, and if Libby and Carole had managed to get out of her where she’d been going every couple of weeks. With a start Belinda realized she missed the morning conversation. Did they miss her?

And Julian’s words about the speed trap made her think of Wade Alexander. She toweled off while

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