Blind Trust Read Online Free PDF

think.”
    “Then why are you crying?”
    Sherry swatted at her tears and stepped backward. “It has to do with anger, Clint, and resentment. Nothing else. Play your games on someone else. I’m all used up.”
    “I know the feeling,” he said, finally allowing her the distance she so desperately needed. “But I can make it up to you.”
    “No, you can’t. Not when it was so easy for you to waltz out and waltz back in. I’ll never trust you again.”
    He reached for her, but Sherry recoiled, stepping back into a model of a fourteen story building. The structure tumbled over and crashed on the floor. Suddenly, a man bolted through the double doors of the office, hand poised under his nylon windbreaker.
    “It’s okay,” Clint yelled quickly, stopping him with a raised hand. “It was the model.”
    The man—the same one who’d been with Clint in the car yesterday—assessed the situation briefly, flashed Sherry an innocent, composed smile, then sauntered away as if going for a summer stroll.
    Forgetting the collapsed model and the rush of emotion that caused her to back into it, Sherry brought her distrustful eyes back to Clint. “Is that the man who was with you in the Bronco yesterday?”
    Clint stooped down and began to pick up the pieces. “Sam’s a friend of mine.”
    Sherry wasn’t satisfied. “What is he doing here? Why did he come running like that?”
    “He’s funny that way,” Clint evaded. He stood up, and she noted the deep lines running like fissures between his eyebrows, lines that hadn’t been there months ago. He brushed his hands off and set them on his hips. “Do you want to meet him?”
    “No, I don’t need to meet your new friend, thank you.”
    “But Sherry—”
    Before he could detain her again, she was out the door, hurrying across the lawn as if her sanity depended on it.
    For she was certain it did.

    S herry sat on the chaise lounge by the pool, letting the sun pour down on her. It had been too much for her to go home and continue feigning composure for the benefit of Madeline, who often came home to work when things at her Promised Land studio got too crazy. So she had come here, to her father’s house, knowing he was in court and wouldn’t be home.
    If she could have cried, some of the soul-deep sadness might have been relieved, but suddenly her eyes were as dry as barren craters in godforsaken earth. Her despair found new levels, even beneath the agony that Clint’s leaving had caused. What disturbed her now was that Clint had betrayed her in such a devastating way, then thought he could erase it all with a simple touch and some whispered words of regret.
    The unfeelingness of it all ripped at her, leaving scars that she hoped would remind her the next time she was weak. She realized now that it had been weakness to delude herself while he was gone. New misery welled up as she remembered the letters she had written to him at first, a form of therapy that had helped her to cope. She had spilled her heart out in them, knowing he would never see them. And whether they had been packed with curses or lamentations, they had all ended with, Clint, where are you, where are you, where are you?
    And today he could walk up behind her at work, slide his arms around her, and expect her to accept him as if the months of loneliness and humiliation had never occurred. Those presumptions hurt her almost as much as his leaving had.
    A door closed in the house, and Sherry snapped her head up to see her father coming toward her.
    “I didn’t know you were coming by today,” the stern-looking U.S. attorney said, although his handsome gray eyes twinkled with pleasure at the unexpected sight of his daughter. “Why aren’t you at work?”
    “I had a headache so I took off,” she said. “I thought you were in court.”
    “We’ve recessed until this afternoon, so I came home for some peace and quiet. The media will probably be banging on the door any minute now.”
    “If you were going