Still Waters Read Online Free PDF Page A

inherited the house from her grandmother.
    He returned to the bedroom, where she waited in the middle of the room looking very much like a lost little girl. “You keep the fan mail here or at work?”
    “Here.” She opened the double doors leading to what he presumed would be the closet.
    He hesitated in the doorway. The closet was almost as large as the bedroom with a sliding library-style ladder that provided access to the upper shelves that banded all the way around the space above the hanging clothes.
    “The house used to have four bedrooms,” she explained as she adjusted the ladder. “I used the fourth bedroom to expand the bathroom and for this closet.”
    “Looks like you made a smart move.” He surveyed the rods and rods of clothes and the rows of shoes and whistled. “This could be a supermodel’s closet.”
    “Ha-ha. Viewers notice if you wear the same outfit.” She climbed up the ladder and reached for a box covered in a floral pattern resting on the first shelf.
    “Let me take that.” He stepped over to the ladder and reached up to take the box.
    “I suppose you’d know a supermodel’s closet when you saw one. My sister told me you were a bodyguard to the stars.”
    He accepted the box and waited for her to climb down the few rungs. “I may have seen one or two.”
    She pushed the ladder back into its storage position. “Don’t be modest, Mr. Douglas. Barbara says you had quite the reputation in Hollywood as a top security specialist as well as a ladies’ man.”
    Apparently she hadn’t heard the whole story. “Where do you want these?” He was damned ready to get out of her bedroom. Being surrounded by her scent and her private things in what now felt like a small space was too much.
    “Kitchen table.”
    Rather than be a gentleman and wait for her to go first, he got the hell out of her closet and her bedroom. A few deep breaths and he still hadn’t cleared her scent from his lungs. He shook off the uneasiness and placed the box on the round table that stood in the breakfast alcove of the kitchen.
    The red and pink rose-patterned box wasn’t a typical file storage size. Handholds were formed on each end. Judging by the weight, it was made of heavy-gauge cardboard. He’d noted several of varying sizes on the uppermost shelf of her closet. Some he recognized as photograph boxes. All were neatly arranged by size and color. His mother had similar tastes and organizing habits. From what he’d seen so far, his mother would like Amber.
    He booted the concept out of his head. Maybe he needed more coffee. He was sure as hell having a hard time keeping his head on straight.
    Amber joined him at the table. She pressed a hand to her flat belly and made a face.
    “Look.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “I know you TV personalities don’t like to eat for fear of gaining half an ounce, but you’re going through some serious trauma right now. You need to eat.”
    Her green eyes were wide with surprise or indignation because he’d touched her or that he’d dared to give her an order or both. He released her and dropped his hands back to his sides.
    “No need for strong-arm tactics, Mr. Douglas. I was just thinking that I needed to eat.” She turned gracefully and marched to the refrigerator.
    Strong-arm tactics? Well, at least she was smart enough to listen to good advice.
    She pulled open the freezer drawer and selected a frozen dinner—the organic, calorie-conscious kind. While she removed the outer packaging, she flashed him a fake smile and said, “Take your pick. I highly recommend the pecan chicken and rice.”
    While she nuked her meal, he rummaged through the selection. He chose the pizza. The photo on the box looked normal enough, though he doubted one would ever be enough. The way his stomach was protesting, he could eat his weight in steak and potatoes about now.
    “Water or coffee?” She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge for