Only a few more days left in July to take advantage of the .99 sale on
VICTORY COVE
Here is a little sample...
For a moment he sat there, assessing her with the fixed gaze of a jaguar. Megan trembled under that appraisal and sank down onto the redwood chair.
He crossed his arms. “Okay,” he began, “let’s try this approach. Who do you think I am?”
You were sent to kill me.
“I don’t know.” She wrenched in anguish.
Some of the tension slipped from Jake’s shoulders. She thought he was going to reach for her and nearly leaned forward in anticipation of that sweet shelter. Instead, he shifted so that his head could be even with hers—so that he could look her in the eye.
“It’s none of my business, Megan. But to me, it’s obvious you’re hiding from something out here.”
“You’re right.” Panic gripped her voice. “It’s none of your business.”
Jake nodded in submission, and then reached out and turned on the bedside lantern. She flinched against the bright assault and blinked until he came back into view.
Oh God. Why did he have to look like that? Dark and lean, with eyes that mirrored the glow of the antique lamp. He leaned even closer and she discovered that the gold was just an eclipse around large black pupils.
“Okay,” he whispered. “One last question. And for this one I need to see your eyes.”
Megan’s breath hitched. In that second, she heard every throbbing beat of Wakefield House. The cadence of the rain. The tempo of the wind. The pounding of her heart.
“Yes?”
“Tell me,” He paused, “In all honesty, do you think I would hurt you?”