Sleeping Beauty Read Online Free PDF Page A

the sort of woman who could have asked those questions. Or maybe even the sort of woman who would make a man like that change his plans and stay in town, just hoping for a chance to get to know her.
    Seeing the faint hint of color come up in Anne's cheeks, Lisa leaned forward, her green eyes bright with interest. "Did you talk to him?"
    "Why do I have the feeling that I've missed half the conversation?" Jack complained. "Who are we talking about?"
    "There was a guy at David's garage when I took Anne to pick up that junk heap she drives. Greatest butt I've seen in years."
    "Should I be jealous?" Jack asked.
    "Maybe just a little," Lisa said, grinning. "It really was an exceptional butt." She looked back at Anne. "Did you talk to him?"
    "A little." She lifted one hand to halt the questions she could see trembling on her friend's lips. "His motorcycle broke down, and he got a ride into town. David was going to look at it. That's all I know."
    "Does he look as good up close as he did at a distance?" Lisa asked irrepressibly.
    "Now I'm definitely jealous," Jack said dryly. "If this guy is still around, I'll have to run him out of town immediately."
    "I can't believe you're joking about this." The harsh anger in her mother's voice cut through the light conversation like a dagger slashing through fine silk. Looking at her, Anne was startled by the emotion that tightened her face. In her experience, her mother made a point to avoid strong emotion. Nothing ages a woman faster than strong emotion, Anne. It's not fashionable to say as much these days, but a lady is always restrained in her emotions.
    "Joking about what?'' Anne asked, bewildered. She shot a questioning look at Jack, but, after one sharp glance at his mother, he was absorbed in watching the play of light through the parchment-colored wine in his glass.
    "You actually spoke with this man?" Olivia demanded, pinning Anne to her chair with the sheer force of her anger.
    "A little.'' Understanding glimmered and set a knot in her stomach. She lowered her hands to her lap, her fingers twisting together. She was suddenly sixteen again, home late from school, listening to her mother's hysterical sobs as she listed all the terrible things she'd thought might have happened to her only remaining daughter. "He was very pleasant," she offered quietly, knowing it wouldn't be enough.
    "That doesn't mean anything," Olivia snapped. She shoved her plate back with a quick, impatient gesture that sent it clattering against her wine glass. The glass tipped and would have fallen if Jack's hand hadn't shot out, catching it and setting it upright again. His mother didn't even notice the small incident. "He was a stranger. He could have been anyone, done anything."
    "I'm sure it was perfectly safe, Liwy." John Moore spoke for the first time since the meal began, his voice soothing. 'It was broad daylight, after all."
    "And we all know how safe that makes her, don't we?" The shrill question was followed by a thick silence.
    Against her will, Anne's eyes went to the neat arrangement of framed photos on a low side table. There were several pictures, but the largest was of a pretty blonde with golden hair and deep blue eyes. The photo showed a girl on the brink of womanhood, her eyes sparkling with anticipation for the life that lay ahead of her. A life that had ended barely a month after the picture was taken.
    "Well, nothing happened," John said after a moment.
    "Not yet, but how do we know this man didn't follow her home? He could be waiting for her even now."
    "I'm sure he's not." Anne kept her voice calm.
    "He could hardly have followed me without a means of transportation, and since he didn't even know my name, it's not likely he could find out where I live, is it?"
    The flat, disinterested tone had the desired effect. The hectic color that had tinted Olivia's cheeks began to recede, and she slowly relaxed the grip she'd taken on the edge of the table.
    "I suppose not." She pressed her fingertips