Monster in My Closet Read Online Free PDF

that was the appropriate response.
    He lifted my chin with one finger and looked into my eyes, searching. “You don’t look well yet. Why don’t we get a cup of tea in you to strengthen you up?”
    His eyes were the green of freshly mown grass. His gaze shot into me, stroking me in places that shouldn’t be touched out on a sidewalk on a busy street. Flecks of gold danced across the irises, and I licked my lips. So hungry. Yes. Tea would be nice. If he wanted me to drink antifreeze, that would be fine too. I nodded my head once and took a step toward him.
    “Excellent.” He slid his arm around my waist. “I’ll take good care of you. I’m Sebastian. May I have your name?”
    My brain, caught in a sludge of erotic decadence, was slow to answer. I opened my mouth and the words felt like cotton.
    “My name. Oh. I’m—”
    “Natalie!” said a voice behind me. “Honey, I’ve been so worried. You look awful.”
    A man I was fairly certain I’d never seen before appeared beside me, pulled me free from the smoking-jacket man— Sebastian, he said his name was Sebastian —and led me away.
    “Thank you for taking care of my sister. She gets sick sometimes. You’re very kind. I’ve got it from here.”
    Sebastian had no time to protest before this new stranger whipped me into an herb shop next door to the gourmet store. He locked the door behind us and flipped the hanging sign to say Closed.
    “Okay, honey,” he said. “Let’s get you fixed up. That was a little creepy.”
    This latest addition to my sudden male bombardment had shoulder-length hair close to the color of carrots. His eyebrows were so fair they nearly disappeared into his freckle-spattered face. His blue eyes were kind, though nervous, darting to the windows as if he expected Sebastian to break in. He was kind of short, maybe five-eight, but with a stocky, bulldog build to him. If anybody broke in, my money was on the bulldog.
    As this stranger led me to a back room, I tried to protest. Even in my fog-drenched brain I knew enough to equate a back room with danger. My knees buckled, and he tightened his grip on my arm. Apparently protesting anything was beyond me at the moment.
    “Whoa, you’re okay. Just a few more steps.”
    My head was now one continuous throb.
    “I’ve never fainted in my life,” I said, my voice shaky. “I’m so embarrassed.”
    I was marginally relieved when our progress halted at the back of the store and not in some dark, bead-curtained room beyond. I was deposited on a caramel sofa with dark brown pillows. He was gentle but insistent in forcing me to lay back with a cushion propped under my feet.
    “I’ve seen you around town,” he said. “Mind you, the way you dress, everybody’s seen you around town. You look good today, though I’d rethink the big flower on your belt. Sometimes you go overboard, which, really, is half the fun in watching for you. Except for that car wreck of a purse you take everywhere.” He winced. “Sorry, ‘car wreck’ probably isn’t the best way to describe anything right now. But we really do need to find you a purse that doesn’t say ‘homeless person,’ don’t you think?”
    I clutched my bag to my chest. “What’s wrong with my purse? Everything fits in it.”
    He rolled his eyes at me. “It’s a tragedy, sweetheart. A damn tragedy.”
    I closed my eyes and watched the bright colors of my headache dance like a moving Picasso against the backdrop of my eyelids. I heard the banging of lids on jars and quiet shuffling of feet on tile. It was soothing, and for the first time all day I began to relax.
    Green, piercing eyes flashed at me through the swirling colors. My skin flushed in a heady mix of fear and desire.
    My lids sprang open, erasing the image, which left a residual burning sensation behind. What had I been thinking? The guy gave me a case of the screaming willies, and I’d been about to walk off down the street with him. Willingly. Like a bitch in heat. I