Heart of Hurricane Read Online Free PDF Page B

back to inspect her reflection in the mirror, a slow, self-satisfied smile curving her mouth. It had taken four shampoos to strip away the dulling rinse, but her hair now billowed around her face and shoulders like a cloud of spun gold. Darkened, impossibly long lashes framed sparkling sapphire eyes whose lids were subtly shadowed with a silvery blue. A light but artful application of makeup gave her skin a luminescent glow, while a touch of blusher emphasized the sculptured perfection of high cheekbones. A clear red lipstick glistened wetly on her lips, drawing attention to their luscious curves. The midnight-blue silk gown faithfully molded each curve and hollow of her supple body. Its crisscross bodice plunged low in the front, and even lower in the back, leaving her arms and shoulders bare, while the long side-slit skirt clung enticingly to her rounded hips, then fell in a straight line to her ankles. Her only jewelry was a dainty diamond-and-sapphire pendant that had been her mother's, which nestled provocatively in the cleft between her breasts.
    Staring at her image, Althea felt an incredible sense of release, of freedom. Impulsively she spread her arms wide, closed her eyes, and whirled around and around in the middle of the floor. It felt so marvelous to be herself again!
    She was behaving recklessly, she knew, but at that moment she didn't care. Ward's remarks had set the match to this rebellion, and it had smoldered all afternoon. When Martin extended that reluctant invitation it had flared into life. She was tired of looking like a shapeless, faceless lump. She was tired of working and sleeping, and working and eating, and working and working and working. And most of all, she was tired of being looked at as though she were an inanimate piece of rather dull-looking machinery. She was young and alive and, for tonight at least, she was going to kick up her heels and enjoy herself. And the devil take Ward Kingman!
    You're taking a foolish chance, a tiny voice in the back of her mind warned, as it had been doing ever since she had decided to discard her disguise, but Althea stubbornly refused to listen. Martin was a nice man. He would understand why she was masquerading, once she explained, and she was sure he would keep her secret. And she was perfectly safe. After all, it was just for this one night. Ward would never know.
    The doorbell rang just as Althea was misting herself with her favorite perfume. Anticipation quivering through her, she hurried to the door and looked through the peephole. A devilish smile lit her face at the sight of Martin, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, looking as though he'd braced himself to swallow a nasty dose of medicine.
    Composing her features, Althea fluffed her hair, smoothed her gown over her hips, then opened the door.
    "Hello, Althea, I . . . Oh, I beg your pardon. I must have the . . . wrong . . . apart . . . ment. ..." The faltering words trailed away to nothing and Martin's face went slack with stunned recognition as he watched the welcoming, slightly taunting smile grow on Althea's face.
    "Hello, Martin. Won't you come in?"
    Martin moved through the door with the stiff, distracted movements of a man in a daze, his widened hazel eyes locked on her face. "Althea? Is that really you?" he choked in a barely audible whisper, as though hardly daring to ask the question aloud.
    "Yes," she confirmed, and had to stifle a laugh when Martin's mouth dropped open and remained that way. Smiling indulgently, Althea grasped him by the elbow and led him from the tiny entrance hall into the living room. She gestured toward the yellow damask sofa, but Martin merely stood and gaped at her. Slowly his head moved from side to side, his expression a study in incredulity. "I can't believe it," he whispered. "How . . . what ... I mean, why would you . . . ?"
    "Hide my light under a bushel?" Althea finished for him. "I'll tell you, but first you'd better sit down. It's a long