Sandra Marton by Not For Sale

Author:Not For Sale [Sale, Not For]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-05-19T19:06:56+00:00

Time dragged by.

He listened for any sounds from upstairs. Nothing. There was a woman in his home and he might as well have been alone.

Which was fine.

He liked it that way.

Still, Caroline was here. Didn’t she intend to come down and say something? Say anything? What about eating? He was hungry; he hadn’t had a thing except coffee and that was hours ago. She had to be hungry, too.

Was she waiting for an invitation?

Maybe so. Maybe she expected him to knock on her door and invite her to join him for dinner.

He could take her out to dinner, instead.

There was a quiet little restaurant a couple of blocks away. It was small. Intimate. Candles on the tables. The kind of place where the owner came by and told you what was on the night’s menu. He’d only been there once. With Elin, but Elin hadn’t liked it.

“I never heard of this place,” she’d said with faint but perceptible disdain. “And I don’t see a person I know.”

He suspected Caroline wouldn’t say anything remotely like that. If her lover took her to a dimly lit restaurant, her lover’s face would be the only one that interested her.

Lucas snorted. Who cared what she would say or do? Besides, he thought coldly, the word “lover” didn’t have much meaning in her life. She would say or do whatever a man wanted her to say or do. That was what she’d done the other night, wasn’t it? Starting in the hotel lobby, going right through dinner…

And ending in his bed.

“Hell!”

How many times was he going to go over this nonsense? Enough was enough, he thought, and strode toward the kitchen. Whether she ate or not, what she did or didn’t do, wasn’t his business. Right now, his business was to put food in his empty belly.

This was his housekeeper’s regular day off. No problem. There were always neatly marked packets of ready-to-heat things in the freezer, eggs and bacon in the refrigerator and, better still, take-out menus in the kitchen desk drawer.

Lucas reached the kitchen, opened the fridge, took out a bottle of Corona…

The cat came barreling out of the darkness and shot between his legs. There was no telling which of them was the more startled—but Lucas was the only one holding a glass bottle. It slid from his grasp and shattered against the tile floor.

He jumped back.

Too late.

The cold beer splashed over his shoes and trouser cuffs, splattered the stainless steel door of the refrigerator and the pristine ivory walls. Lucas stared at the mess and then he raised his arms, hands knotted into fists and wagged them at the ceiling.

“That’s it,” he shouted. “I’ve had enough. More than enough!”

“What happened?”

The kitchen lights came on. He swung around and saw Caroline in the doorway. She was still wearing the baggy sweats, her hair was flattened on one side, her eyes were bleary. One look, and he knew she’d been asleep.

Asleep while his life got turned upside down. While he tiptoed around his

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