The Confession Read Online Free PDF Page B

hook by the door, and with a final wave, said to Peter, “Just leave the updated list with Aimee after you two have gone through it, and we’ll talk again this week.”
    “I will.” He placed the papers back into his briefcase, closed the lid with a snap, and held out his hand. “So will you join me?”
    She placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her up from the couch. “Of course, I just need a minute to grab my purse.” She looked into his handsome face and returned his smile.
    “I’ll wait for you in the foyer then.”
    She headed downstairs and out the back door. Approaching her cottage, she spotted Mark walking toward her on the path.
    “Aimee,” he said nodding his head in greeting, his mouth in a straight line. He quickened his pace.
    She returned his greeting and opened the door to walk inside.
    She heard him speak again and turned around to see him stopped on the pathway, his back toward her, his head bent down. He slowly turned to her and lifted his head. He looked at her for a long moment, his piercing blue eyes clouded with unreadable emotion.
    “Would you like to join me for lunch? Mimsey is fixing chicken salad,” he finally muttered, as if the invitation was painful to ask.
    Confused by her own feeling of disappointment, she frowned. “Thank you for the invitation, but I was just running out to a business lunch.”
    He didn’t say anything, only tipped his head toward her again, turned, and continued walking down the path.
    She shook her head in confusion, picked up her purse off the counter, and headed back to the house.
    Peter stood patiently in the foyer as she came down the hall.
    “All set?” He smiled, holding the front door for her.
    He opened the passenger door of his deep blue Jaguar and with his hand resting on the small of her back, assisted her inside. She felt someone watching her and, looking up at the house, she could see Mark standing in the window, peering down at them. Unable to read his expression through the glare from the sun, she lifted her hand in a short wave.
    Goosebumps rose on her arms when he quickly stepped back from the window. Wishing she had the ability to read minds, she shook her head in confusion, and turned her attention back to Peter.

Chapter 8
    Mark pounded the shovel into the dirt, swaying it back and forth to loosen the soil. He paused, using his forearm to wipe the sweat from his brow. He glanced up at the smoldering sun. He realized he’d been attacking the flowerbeds for close to three hours but no amount of physical exertion could chase the vision of Peter’s hand on Aimee’s lower back from his mind, or squelch his overwhelming anger at seeing them together.
    Shaking his head in self-disgust, he hoisted the shovel up and brought it down, embedding it deep into the dirt. He pulled his drenched T-shirt over his head and placed it over the shovel’s handle. Lifting the hose, he twisted the nozzle, allowing the water to trickle out. He placed it against his lips and took a long swallow before lifting it above his head.
    He stood for a moment under the cold flowing water, allowing it to cool his skin as well as his temper. His turned at the soft purr of a car motor followed by the closing of a car door. He twisted off the nozzle. Running his hands through his wet hair, he began to walk briskly toward the main house.
    He marched through the back door and hurried down the hallway leaving muddy footprints in his wake. He stopped before he reached the foyer and watched Aimee as she stood in the front hallway laughing at something Peter said and thanking him for lunch. Jealousy coursed through him as Peter grasped Aimee’s hand and lifted it to his lips.
    “Where have you been?” he barked, surprised at his own reaction.
    Aimee jerked around and jumped back from Peter, her brow creased in surprise and obvious confusion.
    Peter looked Mark up and down and erupted with laughter. “Maybe the better question is where have you been? You’re