The Care and Feeding of Unmarried Men Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Christie Ridgway
whoâd briefly mistaken the gas pedal for the brakes.â
âJemimaâs stalker has threatened her?â Eveâs voice sounded more breathy than usual, and she was still clutching at that towel.
âThe mental health people claim he isnât a danger to himself or others. But you never know, do you?â
âYes.â And now there was an odd catch in her voice. âYou never do.â
Nash, though sworn off his former role of white knight, still heard the husky sound as an unignorable note of female vulnerability. Taking a half step forward, he put his hand on her shoulder.
She flinched, then wrenched her body away from him.
âHell,â he muttered, yanking his hand back. It was A-OK for Eve Caruso to initiate a flirtatious touchâto his upper thigh, of all placesâbut devil forbid she let a man touch her. Just further evidence she was a siren he should steer his big, manly boat away from.
Frustrated with himself, with the situation regarding Jemima and Ricky Becker, with wondering whether he should apologize for merely trying to be goddamn kind, he swore again. âHell,â he said again, slamming his right fist into the palm of his left hand. The punch landed with a gratifying, fleshy pop .
That made Eve Caruso leap for the ceiling.
He reared back as she now whirled, and his shoulders hit the door an instant before she was grasping the knob with both hands. It turned, and he stumbled back as it swung open. She flew forward, leaping over his size 15s on her way to fresh air.
Her face was pale, her forehead glistened with sudden sweat.
Staring after her as she bolted from the fitness center, he felt a tingle of worry trickle down his spine. Damn.
Something was up.
And though he didnât want to know what had Eve Carusoâs panties in a twist, it was obvious that he couldnât leave Jemima here with this volatile situation and with these volatile people anytime soon.
Chapter Three
âWalking in the Rainâ
The Ronettes
âBâ side, single (1965)
O utside the doors of the fitness center, Eve gulped in breaths of cool air. Calm down. Slow down. Youâre safe now, she thought, pulling every emotion back inside, like a turtle taking to the protective cover of its shell .
Sheâd almost lost it. Confined spaces, or pitch darkness, or, heaven forbid, both together could do that to her. But sheâd escaped, so there was no sense in attracting undue attention with a mad dash.
Her pace slowed to a sedate stroll. She couldnât outrun certain of her demons, she knew that, but with her checking account, her savings account, her stock portfolio, and her IRA as dry as the desert should be, her pride was one of the few things she had left. She was going to hang onto it with both hands, both feet, and even her teeth, if necessary.
No one would ever know she was terrified of enclosed spaces, big men, and being flat-broke.
Not her family, and not the imposing, annoying Nash Cargill.
She supposed he thought she was nuts for rushing out of the closet like that, but what the hey? He disapproved of her already anyway. Thereâd been a little moment, just a flicker of an eyelash, during which sheâd thought sheâd had him where she wantedâwanting her. But then his jaw had hardened and heâd turned all handsome and domineering big brother again.
Jemima Cargill might have a stalker. God.
Eve pushed the thought out of her mind, rubbing her hands against her upper arms to smooth out the sudden case of goose bumps.
It was the dismal, intermittent rain that was spooking her, she told herself, not a sense of precognition. And it certainly was the dismal rain and the chilly temperatures that had driven most of the spa patrons away from the lush grounds and into the massage rooms, facial chairs, or the pricey, private bungalows.
The Kona Kai had been a Palm Springs landmark since the 1950s, a favorite haunt of the Hollywood set and
âJemimaâs stalker has threatened her?â Eveâs voice sounded more breathy than usual, and she was still clutching at that towel.
âThe mental health people claim he isnât a danger to himself or others. But you never know, do you?â
âYes.â And now there was an odd catch in her voice. âYou never do.â
Nash, though sworn off his former role of white knight, still heard the husky sound as an unignorable note of female vulnerability. Taking a half step forward, he put his hand on her shoulder.
She flinched, then wrenched her body away from him.
âHell,â he muttered, yanking his hand back. It was A-OK for Eve Caruso to initiate a flirtatious touchâto his upper thigh, of all placesâbut devil forbid she let a man touch her. Just further evidence she was a siren he should steer his big, manly boat away from.
Frustrated with himself, with the situation regarding Jemima and Ricky Becker, with wondering whether he should apologize for merely trying to be goddamn kind, he swore again. âHell,â he said again, slamming his right fist into the palm of his left hand. The punch landed with a gratifying, fleshy pop .
That made Eve Caruso leap for the ceiling.
He reared back as she now whirled, and his shoulders hit the door an instant before she was grasping the knob with both hands. It turned, and he stumbled back as it swung open. She flew forward, leaping over his size 15s on her way to fresh air.
Her face was pale, her forehead glistened with sudden sweat.
Staring after her as she bolted from the fitness center, he felt a tingle of worry trickle down his spine. Damn.
Something was up.
And though he didnât want to know what had Eve Carusoâs panties in a twist, it was obvious that he couldnât leave Jemima here with this volatile situation and with these volatile people anytime soon.
Chapter Three
âWalking in the Rainâ
The Ronettes
âBâ side, single (1965)
O utside the doors of the fitness center, Eve gulped in breaths of cool air. Calm down. Slow down. Youâre safe now, she thought, pulling every emotion back inside, like a turtle taking to the protective cover of its shell .
Sheâd almost lost it. Confined spaces, or pitch darkness, or, heaven forbid, both together could do that to her. But sheâd escaped, so there was no sense in attracting undue attention with a mad dash.
Her pace slowed to a sedate stroll. She couldnât outrun certain of her demons, she knew that, but with her checking account, her savings account, her stock portfolio, and her IRA as dry as the desert should be, her pride was one of the few things she had left. She was going to hang onto it with both hands, both feet, and even her teeth, if necessary.
No one would ever know she was terrified of enclosed spaces, big men, and being flat-broke.
Not her family, and not the imposing, annoying Nash Cargill.
She supposed he thought she was nuts for rushing out of the closet like that, but what the hey? He disapproved of her already anyway. Thereâd been a little moment, just a flicker of an eyelash, during which sheâd thought sheâd had him where she wantedâwanting her. But then his jaw had hardened and heâd turned all handsome and domineering big brother again.
Jemima Cargill might have a stalker. God.
Eve pushed the thought out of her mind, rubbing her hands against her upper arms to smooth out the sudden case of goose bumps.
It was the dismal, intermittent rain that was spooking her, she told herself, not a sense of precognition. And it certainly was the dismal rain and the chilly temperatures that had driven most of the spa patrons away from the lush grounds and into the massage rooms, facial chairs, or the pricey, private bungalows.
The Kona Kai had been a Palm Springs landmark since the 1950s, a favorite haunt of the Hollywood set and