Heather Graham Read Online Free PDF Page A

She couldn’t panic now. She had plunged in head first, and she was just going to have to see it through to the end.
    There was a knock on the door. Brittany sat up quickly, nervously clutching her robe about her throat.
    “Yes?”
    Donald opened the door and stood there very properly and cleared his throat. There was a gray clothing bag balanced over his shoulder.
    “Mr. Colby took the liberty of sending for some clothing, Ms. Martin. He hopes you’ll accept the things without worry, and that the fit will be sufficient for the time being.”
    “Oh,” Brittany murmured, catching her breath and lowering her lashes quickly, and then her head to hide a stubborn flush. What was she doing? she asked herself with dismay. She didn’t want to take anything from Flynn Colby. She felt horribly embarrassed; like a fortune hunter—or worse.
    “Ms. Martin?”
    “I—I’m very grateful to Mr. Colby,” Brittany murmured. “Thank you, Donald. I suppose I can’t keep walking around in a robe.”
    “Certainly not. Tomorrow you will, of course, be able to get your own things from the hotel. But for tonight … well, just as Mr. Colby wishes, I, too, hope that we can make you comfortable.”
    “Thank you, Donald. You’ve been more than kind.”
    “Not at all, miss.” Donald beamed. He moved into the room with the clothing bag and hung it in the wardrobe by the bathroom door. He smiled and started to leave her, then paused. “Mr. Colby dines at eight. Will that be convenient for you, Ms. Martin?”
    “Yes, perfectly, thank you.”
    There was no clock in the room, but Brittany had just heard a faint echo of chimes from somewhere in the house. It could only be minutes after seven.
    Donald smiled again and left, closing the door behind him. Brittany felt her heart take on a thunderous pounding.
    “Mr. Colby dines at eight.” …
    Mr. Colby. Flynn Colby.
    She felt it again. The horrible trembling. It wasn’t just in her hands, it seized hold of her limbs, fluttered like butterflies in her stomach, terrorized her heart. She really had to be insane to be here. At best, he had ten times her sophistication. At worst …
    He was a swindler and con artist. Charming, beguiling, and very attractive. His body was muscled and toned, gold from the sun, agile … and uniquely fluid in movement. His eyes seemed to rivet one to them. They were blue … no, gray, or perhaps some shade in between. Perhaps they were blue when he laughed and they sparkled, and then smoked to a gray when his mood became more serious. Just like his smile. It was nice. Full, and wide.
    But she could well imagine that smile tightening. Fading. Compressing into a grim line. Brittany shivered suddenly, wondering if Flynn Colby ever lost his perfect manners; if that air of courteous control ever left him. His face … it was so arresting when he smiled. But would those masculine features lose their charisma if they sallowed and tightened in anger? Or would they be equally attractive—just more dangerously so?
    Brittany gave herself a little shake. She’d been reading too much about the man, and half of what she read had probably been invention anyway. Of course, she’d had to read about him. She’d read about every British national living in Costa del Sol who had been in London at the time of Alice’s death. Brice had produced his list of those who had departed England and she had carefully spent two weeks investigating the men as best she could. There had been only six names on the list—three of which corresponded with those names she’d discovered in the newspaper.
    Two of the men worked for a British government concern. One was a father of five, and the other barely nineteen. Brittany had, perhaps foolishly, dismissed them both.
    Foolishness—or instinct? Instinct said she was right. The scam that had wiped out her aunt’s finances had been a clever one; played often enough, it could reap a small fortune. The guilty party had to be living very well—which