Prodigal Son Read Online Free PDF Page A

changed the subject.”
    “From what?”
    “How he gets through the day without tearing up your place.”
    “He keeps busy.”
    Jack looked uncomfortable. She glanced from him to the dog. “What? He watches soaps and does a crossword puzzle?”
    Jack sighed. “He goes to day care, okay? I know, I know. It’s silly, but he has a lot of energy and border collies are herding dogs. I didn’t want him alone and bored all the time so three days a week he goes to doggy day care. There he plays with the other dogs and herds them around. He comes home so tired that on Tuesdays and Thursdays he pretty much just sleeps. I have a dog walker who comes by twice a day to take him out.”
    The muscles in his jaw tensed slightly as he spoke. She could tell he hadn’t wanted to share that part of his life with her.
    She did her best not to smile or laugh—he would take that wrong—not realizing that women would find a big, tough, successful guy who cared that much about his dog pretty appealing.
    “You’re a responsible pet owner,” she said. “Some people aren’t.”
    He narrowed his gaze, as if waiting for a slam. She smiled innocently, then changed the subject.
    After dinner they moved to the living room. Charlie made a bid for the wing chair in the corner. Jack ordered him out of it. The dog gave a sigh of long suffering, then stretched out on the carpet by Samantha.
    Jack glanced around at the furniture, then studied the painting over the fireplace. “So not you,” he said.
    Samantha looked at the subtle blues and greens. “It’s very restful.”
    “You hate it.”
    “I wouldn’t have gone for something so…”
    “Normal?” he asked.
    She grinned. “Exactly. Too expected. Where’s the interesting furniture, the splash of color?”
    “I’m sure you’ll do that with your next place.”
    “Absolutely. I miss fringe.”
    He winced. “I remember you had that horrible shawl over that table in your apartment when we were in grad school. It was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen.”
    “It was beautiful,” she told him. “And it had an amazing color palate.”
    “It looked like something from a Dali nightmare.”
    “You have no taste,” she said.
    “I know when to be afraid.”
    He smiled as he spoke, making her own mouth curve up in return. It had always been like this, she thought. They rarely agreed and yet they got along just fine. She liked that almost as much as she liked looking at him.
    He’d changed out of his workday suit into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. The denim had seen better days. Dozens of washings had softened and faded the material, molding to his long legs and narrow hips.
    A controlled sex appeal, she thought. Reined-in power that always made her wonder what would happen when he lost control. How big would the explosion be? She had an idea from their lone night together. He had claimed her with a need that had left her shaking and desperately wanting more.
    Step away from the memory, she told herself. Talk about dangerous territory.
    “Don’t you have some furniture and decorations from your New York apartment?” he asked.
    “I have a few things in storage,” she said. A very few things. In an ongoing attempt to control her, Vance had fought her over every picture and dish. It had been easier and oddly freeing simply to walk away.
    An emotion flickered in his dark eyes. “I know you’re coming off of a divorce. How are you holding up?”
    The news wasn’t a secret, so she wasn’t surprised that he knew. “Okay. It was tough at first. I went through the whole ‘I’ve failed’ bit, but I’ve moved on from that. Right now I’m feeling a lot of relief.”
    “It’s a tough time,” he said.
    She nodded. “I had really planned to stay married to the same man for the rest of my life. I thought I’d picked the perfect guy.” She paused. “Not perfect. Perfect for me. But I was wrong.”
    An understatement, she thought grimly. “We wanted different things in nearly