Come Lie With Me - Linda Howard [0]
“You’re my therapist,” Blake snapped, tightening his grip on her wrist.
She gave a sad little laugh. “It’s normal to be possessive. For months you’ve depended on me more than you have on any other person in your life. Your perspective is distorted. Believe me, by the time I’ve been gone a month, you won’t even think about me.”
“Do you mean you’d just turn your back on me and walk away?” Blake asked in a disbelieving tone.
Dione flinched, and tears welled in her eyes. “It…it’s not that easy for me, either,” she quavered. “But I’ve been through this more times than I can remember. I’m a habit, a crutch, nothing more, and I’m a crutch that you don’t even need now. If I left today, you’d do just fine.”
“That’s not the point.” His flesh was suddenly taut over his cheekbones. “I still need you.”
“Linda Howard knows what readers want, and dares to be different.”
—Affaire de Coeur
Also available from MIRA Books and
LINDA HOWARD
ALMOST FOREVER
THE CUTTING EDGE
DUNCAN’S BRIDE
AGAINST THE RULES
MIDNIGHT RAINBOW
THE MACKENZIES
WHITE LIES
DIAMOND BAY
ALL THAT GLITTERS
LOVING EVANGELINE
AN INDEPENDENT WIFE
MACKENZIE’S MOUNTAIN
LINDA HOWARD
Come Lie with Me
Come Lie with Me
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter One
The ocean had a hypnotic effect. Dione gave in to it without a struggle, peacefully watching the turquoise waves roll onto the blindingly white sand. She wasn’t an idle person, yet she was content to sit on the deck of her rented beach house, her long, honey-tanned legs stretched out and propped on the railing, doing nothing more than watching the waves and listening to the muted roar of water coming in and going out. The white gulls swooped in and out of her vision, their high-pitched cries adding to the symphony of wind and water. To her right, the huge golden orb of the sun was sinking into the water, turning the sea to flame. It would have made a stunning photograph, yet she was disinclined to leave her seat and get her camera. It had been a glorious day, and she had done nothing more strenuous than celebrate it by walking the beach and swimming in the green-and-blue-streaked Gulf of Mexico. Lord, what a life. It was so sweet, it was almost sinful. This was the perfect vacation.
For two weeks she had wandered the sugar-white sands of Panama City, Florida, blissfully alone and lazy. There wasn’t a clock in the beach house, nor had she even wound her watch since she’d arrived, because time didn’t matter. No matter what time she woke, she knew that if she was hungry and didn’t feel like cooking, there was always a place within walking distance where she could get something to eat. During the summer, the Miracle Strip didn’t sleep. It was a twenty-four-hour party that constantly renewed itself from the end of school through the Labor Day weekend. Students and singles looking for a good time found it; families looking for a carefree vacation found it; and tired professional women wanting only a chance to unwind and relax beside the dazzling Gulf found that, too. She felt completely reborn after the past two delicious weeks.
A sailboat, as brightly colored as a butterfly, caught her attention, and she watched it as it lazily tacked toward shore. She was so busy watching the boat that she was unaware of the man approaching the deck until he started up the steps and the vibration of the wooden floor alerted her. Without haste she turned her head, the movement graceful and unalarmed, but her entire body was suddenly coiled and ready for action, despite the fact that she hadn’t moved from her relaxed posture.
A tall, gray-haired man stood looking at her, and her first thought was that he didn’t belong in this setting. P.C., as the vacation city was known, was a relaxed, informal area. This man was dressed in an impeccable three-piece gray suit, and his feet were shod in supple