Lover in the Rough Read Online Free PDF Page A

walked through the black and silver land there was no sound but the whisper of sand sliding down the steep face of a dune. Neither of them spoke, not wanting to disturb the sable silence.
    When they reached her car he turned toward her. His fingers eased through her hair, seeking the warmth beneath the cool silk. He tilted her head back, letting moonlight pour over her oval face. Slowly he bent to take her lips, giving her long seconds to evade his kiss.
    She felt the gentle cage of his fingers, saw his wide shoulders eclipse the moon, heard his breath sigh out when her eyes closed, accepting his caress. His kiss was a gentle warmth moving over her mouth, a sweet pressure that she couldn’t deny. Instinctively her lips softened, surrender and invitation at once. He kissed her with a gentle restraint and thoroughness that made her moan.
    And then he changed, his arms closing around her while he kissed her with a hunger as deep as the night, his hard edges melting and flowing over her until she fitted against him perfectly. With a small sound she clung to him, shaken by his heat and the velvet demands of his tongue, responding to him as she had never responded to any man.
    When he finally lifted his mouth she was barely able to stand. He looked at her for a long time, breathing deeply, his body hard and very male. His voice was husky, almost harsh.
    “If you loved him, he died a lucky man.”
    He turned and walked into the night, vanishing into the moon shadow of a dune, leaving his jacket wrapped around her and his hunger burning in her blood.

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    T he Objet D’Art was a small shop, one of many along Rodeo Drive. The shop was heavily but discreetly guarded with the latest in electronic alarms. Not for Reba the ugly black wires and bars of a pawnshop. Her business was guarded by nearly invisible optic fibers and hairfine wires that were embedded in the heavy glass door and exterior eye-level windows. The windows themselves were beveled, as gleaming as the materials they enclosed.
    Today she had set out a few pieces from the Green Suite, mineral specimens and magnificent cut gems placed on clear pedestals or nestled in artful folds of silk. The lighting was high intensity, from unexpected angles, sending coruscations of color across the black matte silk that was Reba’s trademark.
    She wore the same silk herself, a simple long-sleeved blouse and matching slacks. High-heeled black sandals added inches to her height, as did the shining, dark honey mass of hair piled above her pale oval face. Two perfectly matched black opals burned darkly against her earlobes. The only other jewelry she wore was the ring Jeremy had given to her. The ring hadn’t left her hand since her birthday almost twelve months ago.
    But as she looked at the diamond’s cinnamon brilliance it was the stranger, not Jeremy, who filled her thoughts. Even after ten days, the memory of being held like a child and then kissed like the last woman on earth sent unfamiliar sensations shimmering through her.
    “Every shade of green there is,” said Tim.
    “Not quite,” she said absently to her assistant. “There’s a silver-green that—”
    Reba made an impatient sound and pulled her mind back to the present. She didn’t even know the man’s name, nor was she likely to. He had vanished as completely as yesterday’s sunlight. If only he would vanish from her memory, too. But he wouldn’t. He had helped her begin filling one kind of emptiness, only to leave another kind in its place, a yearning as intense as it was irrational. How could she miss something she’d never had?
    “When is the first appointment?” asked Reba in a clipped voice.
    Tim flipped through a notebook. “Eleven.”
    “Who is it?”
    “Todd Sinclair.”
    Reba grimaced. “What does he want?”
    “The Green Suite.”
    “He’ll get it the same day hell freezes over.”
    Tim looked up, his brown eyes shrewd and appraising. “You mean you’ve decided?”
    With an effort, Reba