Night Words by Justine Wittich

Author:Justine Wittich [Wittich, Justine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1997-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

After dropping off Howie, neither spoke, even after they settled in a quiet corner booth with their food.

Mac ate with gusto, leading Nevada to wonder if he could go indefinitely without sleep. The turmoil of her thoughts, added to the coil of fear now living in the pit of her stomach, made it impossible to eat. She sat with her eyes fixed unseeing on a point over his shoulder.

“We don’t leave here until you eat.”

The gentleness in Mac’s voice pierced her shell as nothing else could have. As his concerned face swam into focus she felt her eyes fill with tears. One welled over and rolled down her cheek, and before she could push it away Mac’s hand blotted the drop with a paper napkin. “You had to either cry or have a temper tantrum. Let ‘er rip, love.”

The tenderness in his voice completed her undoing. Nevada cried until she could cry no more. The tension rolled from her body until she felt weak as a kitten. The sound of his voice startled her.

“Ready for this now?” Mac shook out a white linen handkerchief.

“Yes, thank you.”

Nevada patted her cheeks dry and mopped at the front of her jacket, then picked up the egg and ham sandwich from her plate and proceeded to eat it.

“Let me get you another one. That must be stone cold.”

She considered the sandwich for a moment, then smiled. “I never noticed. It tastes fine.”

By the time the sandwich disappeared, Mac had replaced her coffee with a fresh, steaming container. Nevada wrapped her fingers around the warmth. “Thank you. Everything has happened so fast, and I’m so exhausted. I think I could sleep forever.” She raised her hand to cover her yawn.

“Let me drive back. You’re wilting in front of my eyes. If I’d known you’d come off your high this fast, I would have waited to annoy you until we were home.”

Nevada dug into the pocket of her coat for her keys as she drank the last of her coffee. By the time they reached the car her lids were drooping. Mac slid her in the passenger side. When he slipped behind the wheel, Nevada leaned her head against his shoulder. “Sorry, but I can’t seem to keep my nose out of the mashed potatoes. Just . . . want to tell you. Have an idea to . . . catch my

. . . the letter writer.”

“Later, Nevada. First get some sleep.”

Nevada roused as they pulled into the wide apron in front of the carriage house. She wondered if she had the strength to walk to her apartment. The sight that met her bleary-eyed gaze brought her awake with a start. In the middle of the drive stood a flaming scarlet customized van. Seated on the hood, shouting deep-voiced threats at the security guard, was one of the most colorful people she’d seen in years.

She understood the guard’s distrust. The stranger, with his black curls flowing down the back of a shearling coat dyed to match the van’s distinctive color was like an exotic bird in a barnyard.

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