Summer Games Read Online Free PDF Page A

Then, hesitantly, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
    He smoothed tendrils of rich brown hair away from her face. “For what?”
    “Being such a—such a child.”
    “We’re all children when we’re taken by surprise.”
    “Not you.”
    Curiosity expanded the blue-black centers of Cord’s eyes. She was so certain of him, as though she had read his file. Yet he knew she hadn’t. “What do you mean?”
    “No one has taken you by surprise in a long time.” Her voice was soft, positive.
    “You did, just now.” He looked at her with an intensity that was almost tangible. “You’re an unusual woman, Raine Smith. Very unusual. And very beautiful.”
    Automatically she shook her head. Chestnut hair slid forward, tickling her full lower lip. With an impatient movement, she pushed the hair behind her ears. She didn’t think of herself as attractive, much less beautiful. As far as she was concerned, if a man complimented her, it was meaningless flattery. Worse, it irritated her, as if men thought she was too dumb to look in a mirror and see the truth.
    When Cord felt the withdrawal stiffening her body, he slowly released her, even though he wanted to hold her closer. Yet he sensed if he tried to hold her, she would fight him. She had every right to. He had no excuse to hang onto her now, except his own unexpected, consuming need to keep her close.
    Reluctantly he forced himself to let go of her completely. He already felt as though he had pulled the wings off the most intriguing butterfly he had ever seen. He didn’t want to feel like a rapist in the bargain.
    Carefully Raine sat up, telling herself that she was relieved not to be held anymore. She didn’t really believe it. It was one thing to be attacked. It was quite another to be held as though she was as delicate and precious as fire.
    Cord made no move to stop her from sitting up. But when she reached for her rucksack, his hand shot out and locked around her wrist.
    She gasped and spun toward him.
    He was looking at the knapsack beneath her hand. In the instant that she had reached for it, he remembered that he hadn’t really searched the shapeless sack. It easily could conceal a weapon.
    “You still don’t trust me, do you?” she asked, surprise and disappointment in her voice.
    He looked into her startled hazel eyes for a long moment. Then he slowly released her wrist, letting the soft flesh and delicate bones slide away unharmed.
    “I’m ninety-seven percent sure you’re who and what you say you are. The other three percent,” he added matter-of-factly, “could be the death of me.”
    She snatched her hand back from the rucksack as though it had burned her. “I just wanted my comb.”
    “Then get it.”
    “No. You get it. And take your time. We’ll both feel safer if you’re one hundred percent sure.”
    “Nothing is one hundred percent sure but death.”
    His long arm reached past her. He started with her shoes, flexing the soles as he gave them to her. Finally he lifted the rucksack onto his lap and opened it.
    While Raine put on her shoes, he rummaged through the contents of the blue bag, looking for her comb. He didn’t come across anything suspicious. Certainly nothing dangerous. What she carried was as innocent as she was. Or seemed to be.
    That damned three percent.
    Lean fingers brushed against the sketch pad he had seen her using. His training demanded that he examine what she had written or drawn on the sheets, but still he hesitated. He didn’t want to invade her privacy any more than he already had.
    His own reaction surprised him. More accurately, it stunned him. In the past he had never been particularly fastidious when it came to searching, and that included body cavity searches. He did whatever it took to get the job done.
    When Cord turned back to Raine, he had her comb in his right hand. In his left he had the small pad of paper. He held out the comb to her. He noted—as he noted all details, however small—that the comb was