Shadowed Paradise Read Online Free PDF

here—incredibly, after
three days of rain—the moon had come out. Stars shone with an extra
brilliance as if newly washed. Below him lay a fairytale landscape.
The only break in a sea of mangroves as thick as the briars around
Sleeping Beauty’s cottage was a long wooden walkway that led past a
gazebo down to a dock at the edge of the bay. Moonlight cut a swath
across the narrow bay that was part of the Intracoastal Waterway.
The long dark shadow beyond was a narrow strip of barrier island.
Beyond that, the beach Claire had been able to walk to when she was
child. The long beautiful stretch of beach forever cut off from the
mainland in order to accommodate a few fat cat yacht owners.
    And what right did he have to be so cynical?
His father had jumped from a Russian trawler, reaching shore more
dead than alive, to escape communism back in the bad old days of
the Cold War, and here he was having snide thoughts about American
capitalism.
    “ Oh, there you are. Thought you might
need this.” Claire tossed him a large bath towel, then retreated as
quickly as she had come.
    Brad’s eyes lingered on her back as she
crossed the greatroom and once again disappeared down the hallway.
Nice ass, but for the life of him he couldn’t understand why he
found her appealing. He preferred his women stunningly beautiful,
sleek, stacked, and sassy. Tigers in bed.
    Hell . . . maybe he was suffering from the
male equivalent of the ticking biological clock. A settled home, a
family, had an undeniable appeal. Or maybe it was the old rush of
adrenalin, the whiff of danger, the ancient attraction of rescuing
a maiden in distress. Had the world really changed so little? You
could take the knight out of his armor, but you couldn’t take the
instincts out of a man’s soul.
    Shit! Diane would kill him. Think architecture, not women!
    Brad sat on the porch’s outer railing,
clutched a support post with one hand, and leaned out, craning his
neck upward. There it was. The obligatory cupola. A large one. Very
likely the vantage point from which Virginia Bentley had written
most of the novels that had graced the Best Seller list of The New York Times .
    Brad slid off the railing, turning for one
last look at the panorama of bay, beach, and gulf that stretched
all the way to the storm on the horizon. Beyond the waterway and
the barrier island’s narrow strip of sand and sea grass, there was
nothing but water all the way to Mexico. He had a great fondness
for his own portion of Golden Beach, the jungle on the opposite
side of town that ran along the Calusa River, but he had to admit
Virginia Bentley and her husband had known how to pick a spot.
Privacy was no longer easy to come by in Golden Beach. The Bentleys
had found a location that would remain theirs and theirs alone, no
matter how many people overran the land behind them.
    Dampness rose in waves from the rain-soaked
land around him, from the broad leaves of dripping sea grape, from
hardy hibiscus, from mangroves reaching up out of their beds of
salt water. From the bay and the seemingly infinite Gulf of Mexico.
The night insects had come out of hiding and begun their insistent
song. The world was fresh. Renewed. Hopeful.
    No wonder people wanted to live in Golden
Beach. Who could blame them?
    The kitchen, Brad discovered, was in the
center of the house, divided from the living area by a waist-high
counter. Somehow dishes must not seem so bad if you could stand at
the sink and see, theoretically, all the way to Mexico.
    He found the beer, popped the cap, and downed
a long satisfying swallow. Life was good. And looking better by the
minute.
     

Chapter Three
     
    “ Good morning, Jody!” Claire could only
hope the sixteen-year-old wouldn’t find anything odd about the
fatuous grin she couldn’t quite hide.
    Jody Stevens was a summer replacement for T
& T’s regular receptionist who had three young children and no
one else to tend them over school vacation. Though still suffering
slightly