Night Whispers Read Online Free PDF

Sometimes he’d close his eyes and picture her, with her hair up on her head and a few loose tendrils hanging down, leaning back in the claw-foot tub wearing nothing but a thick coat of bubbles.
    “Carry this for me, will you?”
    Kelsey pressed one laundry basket into his arms, then walked up the basement stairs with the other one. In the kitchen, Mitch set the basket on the table, casually lifted her slacks and started folding. She did the same.
    “How’s the book coming?”
    Kelsey knew Mitch was writing a textbook on the inherent changes in post-Tiananmen Square China. His first anthropology textbook, which had just been released a few months ago, was already in use at various colleges. That had surprised some folks back home to no end. Many people couldn’t forget his teenage reputation as the resident hooligan.
    He shrugged. “Just scratching the surface.”
    “You know, I still can’t picture it. You, a college professor and now a textbook writer. When I first met you, I figured you would do something adventurous or daring with your life.” She shook her head in wonder. “It’s just that, I don’t know, you seem so different. I guess I saw you being something like your parents, the big-shot archaeologists, but more along the lines of Indiana Jones, whip and all.”
    “And instead,” Mitch said with a wry smile, “you find I’m just a boring, conservative bookworm.”
    Kelsey eyed him speculatively. He might be able to fool some people with that reclusive writer bit, but she knew him too well. She saw the dangerous gleam in his eyes and the sardonic smile on his lips. The way he held himself, allcoiled and ready for action, and the way his voice dropped to a whisper when he was angry spoke volumes. He might have learned some self-restraint, but inside Mitch Wymore there still lurked a potential hell-raiser.
    “Yeah, right. And I’m a debutante,” she drawled.
    She read the laughter in his dark blue eyes as he looked her over, head to toe, his gaze lingering on the haphazard ponytail and the wisps of hair dangling over her forehead.
    “Come on. What’s the story? How did Mitch the bad seed end up like this?”
    “Why are you so surprised? I’ve always loved reading, writing and researching. Never had much problem in school…at least not academically. I’ve inherited that from my parents.” He pulled a chair out and sat down at the table.
    “Yeah, yeah, I know,” she muttered, disgust lacing her voice, “I heard all about it. Doctorate by twenty-six. Gag me.”
    He grinned. “You did ask. Anyway, I taught for a while, found I didn’t much like being restricted by class schedules and grading papers. Writing seemed a perfect alternative.”
    “Yeah, but why textbooks?”
    “Well, I’d been writing articles for journals, magazines, National Geographic and the Smithsonian , that kind of thing.”
    If anyone else had said something like that, they would probably be accused of bragging. But Kelsey had known him long enough to know that Mitch wasn’t touting his accomplishments. He merely stated fact.
    “Anyway, I called a publishing company to complain that they kept updating texts and raising the prices so high my students couldn’t afford to take my classes. I made some contacts at the company, found myself asking questions about how these texts were written. Sounded interesting. I liked the idea of travel and research and writing, and tying it all together with academia.”
    “Think you’ll ever go back to teaching?”
    “Probably. I did give some guest lectures at the university in Beijing, since I was working closely with one of their professors. I might teach a class here next semester, just to keep my foot in the door. But thanks to a nice little trust fund from my grandfather, I’m not tied down to a nine-to-five job. And that’s the key, because maybe next time the company will need something on the tribes of the Amazon and I’ll be off again.”
    It all made sense, in his