Glass Slipper Bride. Arlene JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
the kitchen, he barely noticed the garish red marring the yellow walls and white cabinets. His attention was taken, instead, by Jillian sitting at the bar in a big T-shirt, a damp, folded towel pressed to her face, her long legs and slender feet bare. Her hair was disheveled, wisping about her face like a feathery cap. Those abominable eyeglasses were nowhere in sight. She made him think of a fairy who had lost her wings.
“Jillian,!”
She looked up at the sound of his voice, and a myriad of emotions roared through him at the sight of those big blue eyes and her battered face: rage, dismay, compassion, fear- Desire. Instinctively, he opened his arms, and with a small cry, she rushed into them. Her arms slid around his waist inside his open shirt, her bare skin against his igniting explosions along his nerve endings. He rocked backward, not because of the impact of her slender body, which was negligible, but because of the breathtaking effect of her unfettered breasts pressing against his chest with only a single layer of soft fabric between them.
He knew then that this battered imp of a female had somehow worked her way beneath his professional armor and his satisfying well-ordered existence had gone painfully awry.
Chapter Three
“Are you all right?”
Jillian nodded, sniffing. She seemed fragile and feminine in his arms, dangerously so. After a moment, he slid his hands to her shoulders and eased her away from him.
She smiled up at him, blue eyes glittering softly. “What is it?”
He had trouble forcing out the words, rage choking him. “Did he hit you?”
She shook her head, putting a hand to it as if the motion hurt her. “No.”
He swallowed down the rage before steering her back toward the bar and lifting her up onto the stool there. She was as light as a feather. He picked up the cold, folded towel and held it gently to her cheek. “Tell me what happened.”
She slid her hand over his, and he let her take the towel. Leaning on her elbow, she took a deep breath and told him everything. “I couldn’t seem to sleep for some reason. About two, I heard someone here in the kitchen, and I thought it was Gerry, who sometimes has trouble sleeping, also. So, I got up and came out into the hall, thinking I’d offer to make us some warm milk or herb tea. It was dark. For some reason I didn’t turn on the light in my room, but I expected to see the light from the kitchen. Still, I wasn’t particularly frightened—until I heard the hissing.”
“The hissing?”
“I thought it was gas escaping from the stove,” she said. “I ran down the hall to the kitchen, and that’s when I saw the light.”
“You said the light was off,” he pointed out.
She nodded. “Yes, the kitchen light was off, but he had a flashlight.”
“Eibersen?”
“I think so. I didn’t actually see his face. He was dressed all in black and his hair was covered up.”
Zach grimaced with disappointment. “Go on.”
“Well,” she said, “I screamed.”
“And what happened then?”
She shrugged. “It all happened so fast. I think I must have scared him half to death, because he jumped about a foot, dropped the can and took off. He was scrambling like a madman, and he bumped into me. My foot kind of caught with his, and I went down, smacking my cheek on the other side of the bar there and landing on my shoulder.” She laid down the cool towel and put her hand to her shoulder, wincing as she rotated the joint. “I grabbed at him,” she went on, “and broke a fingernail.” She held up her right hand, displaying an index finger with the nail torn back into the quick. “Before I could get to my feet again, he was gone. Camille came in and turned on the light. That’s when we saw this.” She waved a hand toward the cabinets, and for the first time Zach really looked around him.
“Holy cow!” he said, his jaw dropping as he took it all in. “The can he dropped was obviously a paint can.”
“Spray paint seems to be his medium of choice,” she commented wryly.
Zach was shaking his head, trying to make it all out as he read aloud. “This time my heart knows—”
“‘Its mind.’” she supplied. “‘This time my heart knows its mind. I am yours. You are mine.’ It’s from a poem.”
“A poem?” he echoed incredulously.
Sighing, she recited the whole thing for him. It was a pretty sappy piece about finding true love after many false hopes and mistakes, only to be rejected. “‘But I am constant,’” she recited, ‘“and will not be swayed. True love always finds a way.’”
Zach studied the sloppy letters dripping bright red on the walls, cabinets and appliances. “This guy is nuts,” he decided finally. “I’ve been told that he’s fixated, but this doesn’t sound like he’s punishing Camille. It sounds like he wants her back and thinks vandalism is a courtship technique!”
Jillian closed her eyes wearily. “I take it you haven’t found him yet.”
Zach pushed out a disgusted sigh and shook his head. “He seems to be moving around, one night in this motel, one night in another. From what rve gathered so far, he’s sold or given away just about everything he owns.”
“Isn’t that what suicides do?” asked a worried voice from the doorway.
Zach turned to find Gerry and the others there.
“I don’t have any indication that he’s planning a suicide,” he told her.
Camille pushed her way past her mother then, her nose turned up haughtily. “You don’t have any indication of anything, from what I can tell! You haven’t even found him yet!”
Zach rolled his eyes, holding on to his temper. “As I just told your sister, he’s been moving around a lot, but we’ll come across him sooner or later.”
She waved a hand angrily at Jennings, who peered sheepishly over Gerry’s white turban. “Just tell this idiot to go out and arrest him!”
Zach sent the man an apologetic look. “It isn’t that simple, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t understand why not!”
“I didn’t see his face, Camille,” Jillian said, taking the blame. “I can’t swear that it was him.”
“And even if she could,” Zach said irritably, “the cops don’t know where to look for him.”
“They would if you’d do your job!” Camille snapped.
“I’m doing my job!” he told her heatedly. “If you don’t like the way I’m doing it hire someone else.”
She folded her arms but said nothing more. He pushed a hand through his hair. “What I can’t figure out is how he got past the security system.” Camille looked away. Gerry suddenly got busy folding and smoothing the collar of her robe.
It was Jillian who cleared her throat and said, “The security system hasn’t been activated.”
Zach couldn’t believe it. Throwing up both arms he bawled, “What? You told me you’d activate the system that next day.”
“I tried,” she said defensively. “But you have to choose a security code, and Camille—”
He whirled on Camille then. “I should have known! You just couldn’t be bothered, I suppose!”
She drew herself up regally. “I am a very busy person, I’ll have you know, and—”
“You egotistical little twit!” he yelled, and then he turned to Jillian once more. “What about the locks? You got those changed, didn’t you?”
She