Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever Read Online Free PDF Page B

certain that that was the most appropriate venue, but…well…she wasn’t a terribly nice person, was she?”
    She looked so serene, so innocent, but her eyes…they were sharp.
    â€œWhy, Miss Cheever,” he murmured, “I do believe you’ve a bit of a vindictive streak.”
    She shrugged and took another sip of her drink—a smallone, he noted. “Not at all,” she said, although he was quite certain he did not believe her, “but I am a good observer.”
    He chuckled. “Indeed.”
    She stiffened. “I beg your pardon.”
    He’d ruffled her. He didn’t know why he found this so satisfying, but he couldn’t help but be pleased. And it had been so long since he’d been pleased about anything. He leaned forward, just to see if he could make her squirm. “I’ve been watching you.”
    She paled. Even in the firelight he could see it.
    â€œDo you know what I’ve seen?” he murmured.
    Her lips parted, and she shook her head.
    â€œYou have been watching me.”
    She stood, the suddenness of the movement nearly knocking her chair over. “I should go,” she said. “This is highly irregular, and it’s late, and—”
    â€œOh, come now, Miss Cheever,” he said, rising to his feet. “Don’t fret. You watch everyone. Do you think I hadn’t noticed?”
    He reached out and took her arm. She froze. But she didn’t turn around.
    His fingers tightened. Just a touch. Just enough to keep her from leaving, because he didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want to be alone. He had twenty more minutes, and he wanted her to be angry, just as he was angry, just as he’d been angry for years.
    â€œTell me, Miss Cheever,” he whispered, touching two fingers to the underside of her chin. “Have you ever been kissed?”

Chapter 2
    It would not have been an overstatement to say that Miranda had been dreaming of this moment for years. And in her dreams, she always seemed to know what to say. But reality, it seemed, was far less articulate, and she couldn’t do anything but stare at him, breathless— literally , she thought, quite literally without breath.
    Funny, she’d always thought it was a metaphor. Breathless. Breathless .
    â€œI thought not,” he was saying, and she could barely hear him over the frantic racing of her thoughts. She should run, but she was frozen, and she shouldn’t do this, but she wanted to, at least she thought she wanted to—she’d certainly thought about wanting to since she was ten and didn’t particularly even know what it was she’d been wanting and—
    And his lips touched hers. “Lovely,” he murmured, raining delicate, seductive kisses along her cheek until he reached the line of her jaw.
    It felt like heaven. It felt like nothing she knew. There was a quickening within her, a strange tension, coiling and stretching, and she wasn’t sure what she was meant to do, so she stood there, accepting his kisses as he moved across her face, along her cheekbone, back to her lips.
    â€œOpen your mouth,” he ordered, and she did, because this was Turner, and she wanted this. Hadn’t she always wanted this?
    His tongue dipped inside, and she felt herself being pulled more tightly against him. His fingers were demanding, and then his mouth was demanding, and then she realized that this was wrong. This wasn’t the moment she’d been dreaming of for years. He didn’t want her. She didn’t know why he was kissing her, but he didn’t want her. And he certainly did not love her. There was no kindness in this kiss.
    â€œKiss me back, damn it,” he growled, and he pressed his lips against hers with renewed insistence. It was hard, and it was angry, and for the first time that night, Miranda began to feel afraid.
    â€œNo,” she tried to say, but her voice was lost against his mouth.