Interior Designs Read Online Free PDF

leave him, even though he knew better. He'd always felt the silent accusations, though, believing that if he'd been a better husband, he'd still have his wife and his daughter.
    Now, with Cathryn, he didn't feel the accusations, just her sadness. Sadness—for him? But there was more than one emotion in her expression. He detected a drawing away, and he didn't know why.
    Just then a flash from a camera popped in their eyes and they both snapped to attention. When the haze of whirling blue dots faded, Cathryn saw a well-known society photographer loping out the door, camera in hand.
    "Ziff Bucholz strikes again," said Drew ruefully, staring after the retreating photographer. "I suppose we can look forward to our photos being splashed across the pages of Palm Beach Parade. I hope you don't mind." He regarded her anxiously.
    Palm Beach Parade was the local scandal sheet, better known to Palm Beachers as "The Yellow Pages."
    "It's all right," she replied, thinking that for once the pesky Bucholz, who found her photogenic and had annoyed her often enough in the past, had interrupted at exactly the right moment. She drained the last drops in her glass. "We'd better get back to the party," she said.
    "I don't want to go back to the reunion," he said slowly, letting his eyes linger on her lips for the briefest moment before meeting her gaze. "Let's sneak away and go somewhere else. Just the two of us, so we can talk."
    "My friend Susannah drove me here tonight," she said slowly, wishing her heart wouldn't beat so erratically under his scrutiny. He was looking her over in a leisurely fashion, but not as a predator would; his eyes were lonely. In spite of herself, she wanted to melt. She would have liked to leave with him although all her instincts warned her against it.
    "I'm going to go home with Susannah," she continued with effort, aching with it, yearning for him, wanting his fingers to linger upon hers again. Did her words sound as firm as she intended?
    Drew laughed under his breath. "Susannah Fagan Atherton Smalley LaMotte is currently surrounded by men who are competing to take her home. If you're counting on her for a ride, you'll be calling a cab." All seriousness gone, his tone was lazy, amused. He lifted smooth eyebrows, and his eyes twinkled. "On the other hand, if you go home with me, I'll deliver you right to your door. What more could you ask?"
    Cathryn summoned every ounce of resolve in her body. "Thanks, but I'll pass," she said firmly. She stood up and waited for him to toss a few bills onto the table, then hurried ahead of him to the door.
    She didn't slow her pace until they were outside and headed back toward the beach club through a fine spray of salt. When they reached the shielding seawall, Drew stopped her by putting an arm around her and turning her so that she faced him. Her thoughts were suspended when she saw the emotion unloosed in his eyes, the precise curve of his lips sculpted by moonlight. Clouds skimmed their mist through his pupils, wide now.
    "Cathryn Mulqueen," he breathed, his voice no more than a whisper, and her name on his lips became a harp song, rippling through to her very soul.
    He's going to kiss me, she thought, and she couldn't move. She stood caught in time and in a web of his weaving, waiting for him to close the gap between them. She trained her eyes on his lips, avoiding his eyes—but, no, she had to meet his look. The message she read there told her that he wasn't kissing her casually and that he'd want more, much more than she cared to give.
    Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers, and she received their warmth with a sigh that became his breath, and then her breath, until their mouths were one. One of his arms curved around her waist, pressing her belly to his taut abdomen, while his other hand traced its way up the smooth line of her back to her neck. He cupped her nape gently before threading his fingers through her abundant hair, cushioning her head as his lips deepened their