Nightsong Read Online Free PDF Page A

to appreciate the simplicity of the dress she wore. It wasn’t particularly trendy, he supposed, but the deep cranberry-red suited her. And the way the dress fit, not tightly nor too loosely—well, that suited him. Still, Phillip thought, it would be foolish to enjoy her innocent charm too much. As foolish as it would be for him to ignore the distinct attraction he felt.
    “Let’s go in here.” She moved away from the dim entryway. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
    Phillip followed slowly, and when she sank gracefully onto the sofa, he sat in the wing-backed chair opposite. The house and furnishings seemed much more modern than the exterior would indicate, and he wondered if Elleny had had a hand in the remodeling. “Nice house,” he said. “You must be very comfortable living here.”
    A noncommittal nod was the only agreement she offered. “I’d prefer to have more of Mark’s paintings.…”
    With an ill-concealed movement, Phillip lost the rest of Elleny’s comment and swung his gaze in search of a canvas. He’d been so wrapped up in her that he’d momentarily forgotten his reasons for seeking her out in the first place. It wasn’t like him. There, on the wall next to the window. Was that…? But suddenly Elleny was standing, blocking his view, and of necessity, he stood as well.
    “It’ll take just a second to check on dinner. I’ll be right back.” She walked past him, and he tried to maintain a politely interested expression. But as soon as she was gone, he discarded pretense and moved to the framed watercolor.
    It was a scene of a dying summer, beautiful and poignant, sensitively done as only Jesse Damon could do it. Phillip’s gaze dropped to the artist’s signature, and his heart pounded with the exhilaration of discovery. There was the symbol, the shamrock, before Mark’s name.
    It was what Phillip had hoped to find — a painting stolen from the father, claimed by the son. A painting that provided the first real link to the stolen artwork Phillip had been hired to find. In itself it wasn’t conclusive, but he felt confident now that he was on the right track.
    Unexpectedly, Phillip experienced a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d known he would find this sooner or later, hadn’t entertained any doubts that time and persistence would pay off. But with the evidence before him, with the knowledge that his hunch now had a basis in fact…? Well, it wasn’t quite the thrill he’d thought it would be.
    Elleny, of course. He hated it for her, but then perhaps she knew already.
    Phillip frowned as he studied the picture. How could she not know? He found it hard, almost impossible to believe that she didn’t, and yet he wanted to believe it. And that thought was the most disturbing of all.
    * * * *
    Elleny checked the table setting one last time. Her mother’s china sparkled like a television commercial, the crystal reflected the amber tint of iced tea—she hoped Phillip liked tea, she hadn’t thought to ask—the silver gleamed in mute testimony of a recent polishing. Everything was ready.
    Everything, except her.
    She couldn’t understand the inner core of tension that had been with her since she’d awakened that morning. There really was nothing special about having a guest for dinner. It had been only simple courtesy to invite Phillip into her home.
    Simple courtesy? Elleny raised her eyebrows and laid her palm against her cheek. Even A.J. knew better. Why else would he disregard her every request and behave like the wild child he so often pretended to be? She’d sent him upstairs to wash – for the second time in the past half hour – and exchange his Mickey Mouse tee shirt for something more suitable. Not that she truly expected him to accomplish such a feat on his own, but there was always a faint hope.
    Just as she had harbored a faint and obviously impractical hope that seeing Phillip today would prove to be a mundane and largely unexciting