Deadly Obsession Read Online Free PDF Page A

counter and crossed his ankles and arms. "Mom called yesterday. She’s worried about you. She said she and Dad hadn’t heard from you much lately and when she did hear from you, there was something in your voice."
    Her eyes wouldn’t meet his and she busily ruffled through a stack of papers he’d been looking over as he’d waited on her.
    "I’ll-I’ll have to call and talk with her. Everything’s fine. Fine. I’ve just been really busy and had a lot on my mind." Her voice seemed sincere, but there was something--tension--just under the surface.
    "Such as?"
    She took another deep breath. "Just-just things, Brayden." Finally, she looked at him and leaned back against the counter, but she was hardly calm. Her boot heel tapped on the floor. "I’ve been doing some thinking lately. Well, longer than lately. It started last summer when you and I talked about opening a shop in the London hotel."
    She cleared her throat. He noticed her fingers fidgeted within the confines of her pockets. And why did she still have her coat on?
    "Anyway, I’ve been thinking about my career and life in general," she finished on a huff.
    "What do you mean?"
    Her head tilted to the side and very quietly, she asked, "Did you know I was going to go to Juilliard? I don’t think I ever told you. I had a scholarship and everything. I used to want--never mind. Anyway, life moves on, not always the way we planned, and I’ve been thinking. That’s all."
    Juilliard? No, she’d never told him. For as long as Brayden had known her, a runaway who had shown up on his parents’ doorstep years ago, he suspected the reason behind her flight had been a bad home life. Not that any of them knew for certain. Christian could be open about many things, but others--it was like trying to see a clear picture in a black murky pond. She’d never told them about her life before, and they’d eventually quit asking. She was twenty-eight-years-old and she did what she wanted to.
    So she was musically talented, he did know that much, if not the Juilliard bit. Why she was suddenly telling him this, he couldn’t figure out. He took a deep breath; he’d just stay quiet and see what else she decided to tell him. Maybe she’d eventually get around to what was bothering her.
    Frustration laced her sigh and a sad smile played on her face. "I wanted Broadway. I guess maybe that’s why I still take a theater and music class every semester. Who knows."
    He still had no idea what she was leading up to.
    Turning her back to him she said quietly, "I used to be really good at that sort of thing. I grew up like Tori, for the most part. Voice lessons, ballet, art classes."
    Brayden still didn’t understand what was troubling her. And troubled she clearly was.
    She turned to him. "I’d always thought music heals."
    Heals? He tucked that bit away for now.

    "Okay," he drew out. "What does all this have to do with the London shop?" A suspicion grew, but he tossed it aside. She wouldn’t.
    "Music doesn’t heal everything," she whispered.
    "And what do you want it to heal?" he asked just as quietly.
    For a long moment she stared at nothing, and the pain in her eyes, the sheen of tears, made his breath catch.
    She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.
    "Christian?" he reached out to her, but she jerked back.
    Finally, she smiled. "Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Sorry, I haven’t been in the best of moods lately." She waved a hand. "I don’t know why I’m going over all that. I just wanted to talk about the idea of opening the shop in England."
    Her smile was too bright and he didn’t miss the fact she kept looking out the window.
    "And you’re suddenly interested because?"
    "I thought...." She licked her lips. "That is.... I thought maybe I could go over and open it. I know enough and--"
    "Stop right there." Move to England? He wasn’t even going to go there. Trying to understand what the hell was up with her, he changed the subject. "Tell me why you’re not sleeping. You look