Pictures of You Read Online Free PDF Page B

she turned toward the inviting basin, now brimming with water.
    Drawing the sun dress over her head and draping it on the chair, Eva stepped out of her high-heeled sandals and let her bare feet revel in the touch of the hard wooden floor, its even planks a welcome relief. Wearing now only bra and panties, she proceeded to sponge herself with the washcloth that she found neatly folded, along with a towel, beneath the basin. The comfort was immediate; Eva felt her muscles begin to
relax as she slowly, caressingly bathed the dust and perspiration from her face, neck, and shoulders before moving on to her arms and legs. Her sponging completed, she let the washcloth slide down into the dirty water.
    The relaxation had brought to Eva a heightened awareness of numbing exhaustion, so without further fuss and in the same state of undress, she dropped onto the bed, savoring the feel of the cool sheets against her still warm skin. Sleep was already making its claim as her soft auburn curls came to rest on the broad feather pillow.
    Despite its promising beginning, her slumber was far from peaceful. As often happens when one has been too tense and overtired for a period, she dozed fitfully, shifting position abruptly as the various trains of thought intersected each other in her subconscious. In one moment she was back in New York playing the not-so-perfect wife to Stu’s not-so-perfect husband. In another she was the grieving widow at Stu’s crowded graveside, her downcast eyes mercifully hiding her innermost thoughts. In the next she was the impulsive young woman who, in silent defiance of propriety, had cast off her widow’s weeds and replaced them with the brighter, more carefree wear of a vacationer. In yet another she was the attractive photographer gazing through her camera lens at the dark and compelling face of a stranger whose return scrutiny of her had touched her in some inexplicable way.
    The thread was broken; she tossed again. With this last turn, however, her movement had become restricted by some mysterious weight. As consciousness phased in and out, she became aware of a figure, large and ominous, seated on the bed at her side. Sirens of alarm sounded within her as she awoke with a start, her sudden upward movement checked by cuffs of
granite which encircled her upper arms, pinning her back to the bed. She had slept for several hours; the room was now lit only by the flaming streaks of the setting sun. Intermittent shadows fell long and menacing across the room. It was into one of these shadows that Eva now stared, her eyes wide with terror. From beneath the wide brim of a western-style hat, dark eyes gazed at her as they had done earlier in the day. For even in the dark shadow of his hat, Eva immediately recognized the firm jaw line, the straight nose, the high cheekbones. If she had had any doubt, the penetrating coal-black orbs which studied her now would have easily dispelled them. Indeed, the cause of Eva’s present terror was none other than the man with whom she had exchanged such profound glances at the airport, the same man who had so recently been a major player in Eva’s dream life.
    Fear supplanting recognition once again, she began to struggle wildly to free herself from his concrete grip. Her fists pommeled his forearms with as much strength as she could muster from the elbow, her upper arms totally useless. Her bent knees managed several sound poundings of his back as she twisted madly, her body racked by spasms of panic.
    â€œLet me go! Let me—” she began in a high-pitched scream which was abruptly cut off by a large hand firmly clamped over her mouth.
    â€œQuiet down. You won’t be hurt.” His voice came at her out of the maelstrom, its firm but gentle tone making a mockery of her total panic. She sobbed and gasped for air, frantically grabbing at his wrist with the arm he had freed to silence her. When this tactic failed, she began to pound at his arm and side