Sweeter Than Revenge Read Online Free PDF Page A

his surroundings. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, he could see one of those wraparound porches and, below that, the glittering pool and dark gardens, gorgeously lit by spotlights.
    Within the living room, he didn’t know where to look first. Lamps warmed every corner, making a room that should have felt like a cavern instead feel warm and inviting. Murals of slaves working green fields covered the walls, and he moved to one side of the room to inspect the work more closely.
    And that was when he heard her.
    High heels drummed on the hardwood floors, announcing the arrival of a purposeful woman. The voice followed—young and husky, the siren’s voice of a seductress calling a lover to her bed or leading a sailor to his doom against the rocks.
    “Daddy? Miss Beverly? Where is everybody?”
    David had every intention of moving forward out of the shadows to let her know he was there, but then he saw her and couldn’t move a muscle.
    Tall. Shapely. Beautiful. For a few seconds his stunned brain could register only the rough outline, but then the details came into focus. She’d been poured into one of those stretchy black dresses that drove men wild. Wide hips, rounded butt, miles and miles of bare legs. Gleaming honey-brown skin, long, dark, rumpled hair that begged for a man’s hands to sift through it, four-inch heels. Young; in her early twenties or so.
    She breezed in, didn’t see him, gave a tiny what-the-hell shrug and turned to the enormous gold-framed mirror. Humming absently, she checked her lipstick and fluffed her hair with no real interest, as if she was only confirming that she was still as beautiful as she’d remembered. He must have moved or made some sound because she froze and their eyes met in the mirror.
    Maybe she liked what she saw—he couldn’t say. But her gaze raked over him and then the beginnings of a smile curled her delicious, glossy lips. “Who are you?” she demanded of the mirror.
    “David Hunt,” he said, surprised his dry mouth and throat could produce any sound.
    She frowned a little, but it was a teasing, flirtatious frown. “You’re not a homicidal maniac, are you?”
    “Not so far.”
    In one fluid movement she threw back her head to laugh and whirled to face him. Her hair swung over her shoulder, brushing the tops of her breasts until she tossed it back. Her laugh was the unabashed belly laugh of a passionate woman who sucked every experience she could out of life and then looked for more.
    “What are you doing here?”
    He stepped closer, pulled into her orbit by forces much stronger than himself. “Eating dinner. Your father’s my new boss. I’m on summer break from Wharton.”
    “Really?” She raised her pointed chin and stared at him with wide, dark, almond-shaped eyes. “I hope he’s not working you too hard.”
    “Don’t worry about me.” He took another step closer. “I like to work hard.”
    Her gaze flickered over him. “I’ll just bet you do.”
    They stared at each other well past the point of polite curiosity. One part of his brain screamed he should run away from this woman for reasons too numerous to count, but another more insistent part told the first part to shut the hell up. He shoved his hands in the pants’ pockets of his suit to keep from reaching for her, but found himself creeping closer instead. “What do you do with yourself?”
    “Not much. I work in a boutique in New York.”
    “Why not work for your father? I’ll bet you’d be good at public relations.”
    Another head toss. “Maybe I want to go out on my own. Conquer the world.”
    He didn’t doubt this woman could do anything she set her mind to. “Yeah? And what’ll you do the day after tomorrow?”
    Another laugh. This one slid over and then under his skin, heating him from the inside out. Their gazes held and her smile died off. A faint flush crept up her neck and over her cheeks; she shivered. In the distance he heard the doorbell ring, but anything other than