When Next We Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

about!”
    “The tropical storm over Cuba has increased to hurricane velocity,” Derek said, idly searching the cobalt shag of his office carpeting for her hairpins. “You would have been all right if you could have left now, but, say, five or six hours from now the outer winds will be hitting the Keys. Unless it takes a radical change of course.”
    “Oh.” Leigh stood awkwardly. She was a fool! She had heard something about a tropical storm brewing in the Caribbean. Why hadn’t she paid more attention to the reports? She should have never left her home to begin with! As a native “Conch,” or Key Westerner, she had seen many a storm thunder its ferocity upon the island. Her home, she felt, was safe. Knowing her native habitat as she did, she had insisted that Richard have it built to exacting specifications. Usually when storm warnings threatened, she stocked the house well, filled every receptacle in it with water, and offered it as a harbor to others in less fortunate positions—those who were not able to evacuate or felt their own homes were dangerous during the deluge of water and wrecking winds.
    But in the last few days she had been terribly absentminded. All she had thought about was her approaching appointment with Derek. She had not picked up a newspaper, barely glanced at the TV, and, if she had heard a radio, she didn’t remember a thing said.
    And now here she was, virtually a prisoner of the feckless gods of fate, stuck with Derek due to the haphazard whimsy of the weather. “I’m sure there can’t be anything seriously wrong with my car,” she said in a small voice tinged with hope as she absently reknotted her hair.
    Derek, holding his cache of pins, advanced on her nonchalantly. “Don’t,” he said curtly, pushing her hands from her hair. “It looks much nicer down. I never did like the way Richard tried to dress you up like a porcelain doll.” He handed her the pins and strode with assurance toward the doors. “Excuse me, I need to shower and change for dinner.”
    “But, Derek …” Leigh’s protest trailed away.
    “Yes?”
    “I—I can’t stay! I have nothing with me!”
    He hesitated slightly, one powerful hand curling around the edge of a door. A small, humorously tender smile showed beneath the trimmed hair of his beard. “I remember you used to wear Richard’s tailored shirts to bed.” His grin broadened across his face. “I have a zillion shirts. Take your pick. And Emma’s always prepared for anything. She keeps a horde of soap, toothpaste, shampoo, and the like that would make a drugstore look understocked. She’ll take care of you.”
    The door began to close but Leigh once more felt compelled to stop her host, deciding the temperance of his behavior after her own childish display warranted an apology. “Derek!” she called again stiffly, not quite able to sound truly humble. “I’m sorry.”
    “Are you? How nice.” The friendly grin had left his face and the eyes that bored into her were unfathomable. He seemed distracted for a moment, then added in a low tone with a rough edge that could only be deciphered as a warning, “But you should learn to guard that temper of yours. Richard might have tolerated it—he had to, you were his wife. But I rarely make allowances more than once.”
    “Well how good of you to leave me unscathed this once!” Leigh drawled sarcastically. Although she knew better, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from goading him. “If—” she stated with pronounced accusation, “if my car hadn’t gone mysteriously dead, it never would have happened!”
    “My dear Mrs. Tremayne,” he said, shaking his head slightly as if he had been delegated the task of explaining something to a very small child. A scornful smile twisted his handsome features. “Dear, dear woman! Do you really imagine I would ever have to stoop to trickery to keep a lady in the house if I so desired?”
    A scarlet blush rose unbidden to her cheeks. Tossing her