Provocative Peril Read Online Free PDF Page A

thought others might as well."
    "Don't you know that the gift of appreciation is every bit as important as artistic talent? Just think what it would be like if there were no one around to appreciate the efforts of others." His smile flashed, and Carolyn felt warmed by it.
    "I suppose you're right." She thought about his comment for a moment. "I guess that's how I've managed to become a success. I put all of that talent on display and attracted those people with a gift of appreciation." Her answering smile caught him off guard, and his body responded to her.
    Clay shifted restlessly and tried to concentrate on their conversation. "You make it sound easy. I have a feeling you're skipping some relevant information."
    "Not really." She was having trouble keeping her eyes off him. The black clothes emphasized his blond good looks, and she had to force herself to look away from him. "How about you? What do you do when you aren't vacationing on the Oregon coast?"
    "Write."
    She waited, but he added nothing more. A little taken back by his brevity, she asked, "What sort of things do you write?" He picked up his cup, no longer looking at her. "Various things. I've been a journalist, tried my hand at a few novels." His smile didn't quite touch his eyes. "Write."
    "I see." Carolyn was fairly sure she did. However he got his money to stay at the resort, he obviously didn't make it writing. Interesting. "I have a friend who writes. She's trying to get a romance published. It's a tough field." Carolyn smiled at him in gentle commiseration.
    His shoulders relaxed and she realized how he had tensed at her probing questions. It was none of her business how he made his money, and she wasn't going to ask him any more awkward questions.
    He leaned both elbows on the bar, moving closer to her. "I've been meaning to ask you, are there any more Kenniwicks around besides you?"
    "So far as I know, just my mother and I."
    He studied her face, feature by feature, as though trying to find the answer to some question only he knew. "So you're an only child. What's that like?"
    "I take it you aren't one, or you'd never ask."
    He shifted, so that his shoulder lightly brushed against hers. "You're right. I am the middle of three boys. I grew up thinking everyone had someone to play with or fight with. I suppose your life was a little different."
    She laughed, remembering how different. Before she quite realized it, Carolyn was sharing her past with Clay, and as he listened he pictured the little girl spending most of her time in the backyard swing, reading a book. Her companions had been characters she'd met through reading. Because of her mother's allergies, Carolyn had never had a cat or dog, so she had lavished her attention and love on the various animals at the Washington Park zoo which overlooked Portland.
    Her favorite animal had been the giraffe. "I've always appreciated the way the zoo housed them, with the curve of the hill putting visitors at the giraffe's eye level." She was unaware that she was twirling her cup in circles—her mind had traveled back over the years. "Have you ever noticed their eyes?"
    "No, now that you mention it, I don't guess I have." He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been to a zoo, but decided not to interrupt her train of thought with the information.
    "You really should visit them, just to look at their eyes," she was saying earnestly. "They're beautiful, and so kind looking—big and brown with ridiculously long lashes. It makes you want to walk up and hug them."
    He stared into her large dark eyes, noting the long lashes surrounding them. He could certainly understand a sudden urge to hug.
    "Did you do that often?" he asked interestedly.
    "Not there, but I spent a lot of time at the petting zoo."
    Clay could see her, smaller than her peers, those large eyes staring with equal intensity into the giant eyes of the giraffe. "So what made you decide to come on a vacation by yourself?"
    The sudden change of subject