Unlikely Lover Read Online Free PDF Page A

until the police got there.
    “You know, dear,” Lillian blustered as she came through the door, shaking her head and smiling all at once. She looked as red as a beet, too. “The horrible experience you had!”
    “Horrible?” Mari asked.
    “Horrible!” Lillian cried. “We can’t talk about it now!”
    “We can’t?” Mari parroted blankly.
    “Not at the table. Not in front of the boss!” She jerked her head curtly toward him two or three times.
    “Have you got a crick in your neck, Aunt Lillian?” her niece asked with some concern.
    “No, dear, why do you ask? Here! Have some fried chicken and some mashed potatoes!” She shoved dishes toward her niece and began a monologue that only ended when it was time for dessert.
    “I think something’s wrong with Aunt Lillian,” Mari confided to Ward the moment Lillian started back into the kitchen for the coffeepot.
    “Yes, so do I,” he replied. “She’s been acting strangely for the past few days. Don’t let on you know. We’ll talk later.”
    She nodded, concerned. Lillian was back seconds later, almost as if she was afraid to leave them alone together. How strange.
    “Well, I think I’ll go up to bed,” Mari said after she finished her coffee, glancing quickly at Aunt Lillian. “I’m very tired.”
    “Good idea,” Ward said. “You get some rest.”
    “Yes,” Lillian agreed warmly. “Good night, dear.”
    She bent to kiss her aunt. “See you in the morning, Aunt Lillian,” she murmured and glanced at Ward. “Good night, Mr. Jessup.”
    “Good night, Miss Raymond,” he said politely.
    Mari went quietly upstairs and into her bedroom. She sat by the window and looked down at the empty swimming pool with its wooden privacy fence and the gently rolling, brush-laden landscape, where cattle moved lazily and a green haze heralded spring. Minutes later there was a stealthy knock at the door, and Ward Jessup came into the room, scowling.
    “Want me to leave the door open?” he asked hesitantly.
    She stared at him blankly. “Why? Are you afraid I might attack you?”
    He stared back. “Well, after the experience you had, I thought…”
    “What experience?” she asked politely.
    “The man at the shopping center,” he said, his green eyes level and frankly puzzled as he closed the door behind him.
    “Are you afraid of me because of that?” she burst out. “I do realize you may be a little weak, Mr. Jessup, but I promise I won’t hurt you!”
    He gaped at her. “What?”
    “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” she assured him. “I’m not really as bad as Aunt Lillian made me sound, I’m sure. And it’s only a red belt, after all, not a black one. I only sat on him until the police came. I hardly even bruised him—”
    “Whoa,” he said curtly. He cocked his dark head and peered at her. “You sat on him?”
    “Sure,” she agreed, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Didn’t she tell you that Beth and I ran the little weasel down to get my purse back and beat the stuffing out of him? Overweight little juvenile delinquent, he was lucky I didn’t skin him alive.”
    “You weren’t attacked?” he persisted.
    “Well, sort of.” She shrugged. “He stole my purse. He couldn’t have known I was a karate student.”
    “Oh, my God,” he burst out. His eyes narrowed, his jaw tautened. “That lying old turkey!”
    “How dare you call my aunt a turkey!” she returned hotly. “After all she’s doing for you?”
    “What, exactly, is she doing for me?”
    “Well, bringing me here, to help you write your memoirs before…the end,” she faltered. “She told me all about your incurable illness—”
    “Incurable illness?” he bellowed.
    “You’re dying,” she told him.
    “Like hell I am,” he said fiercely.
    “You don’t have to act brave and deny it,” she replied hesitantly. “She told me that you wanted young people around to cheer you up. And somebody to help you write your memoirs. I’m going to be a novelist