The Last White Knight Read Online Free PDF

enough of him to last me forever, but I can’t just ignore him. The man is the bane of my existence.”
    Erik heaved a sigh. “I know he’s pompous and somewhere to the right of Mussolini, politically speaking, but I do think he means well, if that’s any consolation.”
    “Not much. As they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.” Lynn washed another plate methodically, the warm water beginning to soothe her jangled nerves. She relaxed with the change of topic, too, much more comfortable discussing issues than experiencing those intangible sexual vibrations. “If he would look past his own self-righteousness, he might see just how wrong he is. But that will never happen. The man is so narrow-minded his ears rub together.”
    “He’s a man with a cause,” Erik said. “I see it all the time. He’s got the bit in his teeth and blinkers onto keep his mind on his purpose. He doesn’t want to be swayed by anything like the possibility that he’s wrong.”
    “He’s so wrong. The irony of it is that it’s attitudes like Graham’s that help foster problems like the ones my girls have.”
    He gave a snort of disbelief. “You’re saying they all have fathers like Graham and that’s why they grow up to be bad girls? That’s a little simplistic, isn’t it?”
    “I resent the term ‘bad girls.’ And what would you know about it, anyway?” Lynn queried defensively, turning to face him. She propped her right hand on her hip, ignoring the soap suds that soaked into her T-shirt. An old resentment seeped out of its hiding place and directed itself at the man before her—Sir Erik the Good, golden boy, favored son, everybody’s hero. He was the male version of her sister Rebecca, bright and perfect, loved by all. “I’ll bet your father was your best pal. You played football together. He took you fishing and supported you in everything you did. Right?”
    His expression suddenly went closed, but the residue of pain glowed in his eyes, and Lynn had the feeling she’d just taken one giant step onto private property.
    “My dad died when I was sixteen,” he said quietly.
    Damn. Lynn wanted to say she was sorry, but she couldn’t seem to speak around the foot in her mouth. It was this kind of thing that had gotten her in trouble with teachers and supervisors over the years. Her lack of reserve and circumspection made her good with teenagers but a failure with most adults. She looked at Erik and felt helpless.
    “He played football with me,” he said. “He took me fishing. He supported me in everything I did. And then he dropped dead of a heart attack, leaving a wife, five kids, and a stack of bills.”
    Shame crawled around in Lynn’s stomach like a whipped dog. She didn’t usually judge people so quickly and on so little evidence. She had labeled Erik Gunther the product of a privileged upbringing, handsome, successful, shallow. Slapping an unattractive label on him was a defense mechanism, she supposed, trying to keep him a safe distance away, but that didn’t make it right.
    “I’m sorry,” she said at last.
    “Yeah, well …”
    He turned away and scooped a handful of silverware out of the sink, then went in search of the proper drawer. Lynn watched him, her eyes on the set of his broad shoulders. He kept his head down, ostensiblyconcentrating on his work as he sorted the forks and spoons. She wanted to reach out to him, to heal the hurt she’d inflicted by opening an old scar, and because she wanted to do that, she turned away. Erik Gunther wasn’t one of her girls. He was a grown man, fully capable of dealing with his own feelings. If she reached out to him, she would be the one in trouble.
    She turned back to the sink and lifted the drain basket to let the water out. As the suds were sucked down, she stared out the window above the sink, seeing nothing but blackness and her own reflection, like a ghost. Her thoughts drifted inexorably back to her own unhappy youth.
    “I lost my