Riptide (A Dangerous Hearts Romance) by Deborah Camp

Author:Deborah Camp [Camp, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0451129636
Published: 2012-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Shadow pulled the lasagna from the oven and raised the baking dish to his nose. He breathed in the aroma that always made him think of his mother’s kitchen in Bunch, then he set the dish on a cooling rack and placed a sheet of biscuits into the oven. He glanced at the kitchen clock and checked his wristwatch. She’d be here in a few minutes, he thought.

Entering the dining room, he double-checked everything before going into the living room where he put a record on the stereo and adjusted the volume. The Bee Gees crooned and Shadow hummed along with them as he plumped up the sofa pillows and closed the draperies against the gathering dusk and city lights. The vocal group switched to falsetto voices and, undaunted, Shadow urged his voice to its upper register and did a little two-step back into the kitchen to check on the turnip greens. They were bubbling nicely in the saucepan, so Shadow began mixing his specialty.

He paused in the process, suddenly aware of his own jubilant mood. A lopsided grin found his mouth and he chuckled softly before resuming his collaboration with the Bee Gees. It had been a long time since he’d been this excited about cooking dinner for a woman, he mused. Whitney Campbell was special, though, and worth all this attention and preparation. His brows drew together as his thoughts dwelled on her.

He sensed a sadness in her at times that had nothing to do with this Malibu Intruder business, and Shadow longed to find the source of that sadness and obliterate it. At times she seemed … lonely. Yes, that was it. For a woman who lived in the very midst of glitter, glamour and good times, Whitney had a melancholy air about her; it shimmered in her eyes and tensed her mouth when she thought no one was looking.

But he was almost always looking because he could hardly keep his eyes off her. A man could melt in those cinnamon eyes and sell his soul for a taste of those full, soft lips.

Shadow pulled himself up short, noticing that the Bee Gees album had ended and that Deborah Harry was now filling the apartment with a scratchy, pulsating voice that begged him to call her anytime or anywhere and she’d be ready. It was the kind of song that made Shadow’s pulses pound along with the beat, and it wasn’t the kind of song a man should listen to when he was alone with his thoughts of a special woman.

He opened the oven and pulled out the sheet of browned biscuits, switched off the gas, and went into the living room to change the record. He put the Bee Gees on again, thinking they were safe sounds and wouldn’t make him want to ravish Whitney before she had time to cross his threshold.

When the doorbell rang, Shadow stiffened. He ran his hands along the sides of his hair in a nervous movement before answering the summons.

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