Her Reason To Stay. Anna AdamsЧитать онлайн книгу.
past, the lives we want, the truth—with you. I want a real relationship, not a nodding acquaintance.”
She stuttered to a halt, but Raina’s smile switched on. “You have weaknesses, too.”
“That makes you happy?” That she was vulnerable? That one person left in the world could hurt her?
“No, not happy. But I can identify with you. I may look capable, but something happened to me after my mother’s—death.” Raina’s sadness made Daphne long to comfort her, but Raina had a formidable touch-me-not air. “As you saw in Patrick’s office, sometimes I’m barely able to function. I’m wondering where you get your guts, why you have them but I don’t.”
Daphne smiled. “That’s a funny word from you.”
“Courage, if you prefer.”
“I wonder whether we’re both brave enough to try being sisters.” Daphne eyed Raina over the rim of her coffee cup.
Raina drank her tea, honest-to-God splaying her little finger, then she set the cup in its saucer.
“Let’s get your things.” She pulled her suitcasepurse close to her chest.
“My things?” Raina had gone from shrinking in Patrick’s office to bossing the sister she hadn’t fully accepted yet. Daphne grabbed her coffee, telling herself it was too soon to move in together. “I can’t stay with you.”
Raina arched her perfect eyebrows. “You don’t have a job. Where can you afford to—”
“I have a room in a hotel. I sent you the address.”
“That place isn’t safe for a rat.”
Daphne ran a finger over her eyebrows, which could have benefited from the waxing Raina had obviously recently endured. “Don’t let anyone say you’re not a plain speaker.”
“I’m just suggesting you’d feel more comfortable, and we’d have more time together if you came home with me.”
“Just a few hours ago you accused me of trying to rob you. It’s pretty hard to forget what you said.”
“About?”
“Not having money for me, Raina. Now you want to adopt me. But you and your buddy Patrick might talk it over in a few days and decide I’d tricked you into giving me a room in your ritzy house.”
“Come on. I didn’t react well. Would you have done any better?”
Daphne stared at her. “I honestly don’t know. I’m very aware that I’m the bad bargain in this deal.”
“Bad bargain? What are you talking about?”
“Are you serious? Look at me. My clothes are rags compared to yours. My tastes are plebeian. I have nothing to give you.”
“I haven’t asked for anything.”
“Except to be left alone.”
“That’s over. Let’s think of how you can find a way to live here. You need a job, a home.”
She stopped, her gaze pointed.
“Raina, forget it. You own a palace and I’m peasant material.”
“And proud of it.” Raina clearly refused to comprehend. “Can you type? I’ll bet Patrick could find work for you.”
Daphne might have been annoyed if the seductive memory of Patrick’s hand sliding over her palm hadn’t made her push her fingers under her thighs. Getting close to Patrick would be courting danger. She’d learned a long time ago to ignore instant attraction. Her defenses must be down. “His charity won’t do, either. I’ll find something.”
Raina opened her mouth, but words didn’t come.
“You’ve also changed a lot since this afternoon,” Daphne said.
“I’m not stunned anymore.” Raina stirred another cube of sugar into her tea. “Now that we agree, come with me and we’ll get serious about what to do next.”
“We agree?” Raina’s enthusiasm put her off. Why had her sister changed her mind so quickly?
Raina ignored her reticence. She flicked the label on her tea bag. “This stuff’s horrible. I’ll take you to a place that’ll serve us something with some taste.”
“I can’t afford to waste food.” Daphne hated the slightly smug, pompous note in her own voice. “Sorry. I mean I can’t afford a meal in the kind of restaurant you’re talking about.”
“Oh.” Raina became deeply interested in Daphne’s scone. The door opened again, and watery sunlight revealed a pinkish blush on her cheek. “Maybe I’ll get one of those.” She leaned back, nodding her head to the beat of the jazz tune being played. Her eyes followed the swirls of burgundy and passion-purple paint, cut by dark beams. The lines around her mouth relaxed—almost. “I’ve never been here, but it’s not so bad.”
“So how do you know Kyla?”
“We go to the same church.” She waved at the young woman behind the counter. Kyla stared as if Raina’s chic dark brown coiffure had tilted of its own volition upon her head.
“You have to go up there to get one,” Daphne said.
“Really?” Raina sat up, feeling for her purse, but seemingly surprised to find it still in her lap. “Usually they come to me.”
Daphne smiled into her cooling coffee as her sister sashayed to the counter.
So far, nurture was winning hands down.
Chapter Three
THAT NIGHT, as the temperature in Daphne’s rented room dipped below bone-chilling, she negotiated with the thermostat for more heat. The unit rumbled like a jet on takeoff, and Daphne gagged from the stench of burning dust. She was running for the door to let in fresh air when someone knocked.
The second she touched the chain, it fell out of its slot. She undid the dead bolt and opened the door.
Patrick Gannon stood outside, leaning back for a good look at the overloaded gutters. “You can’t stay here,” he said.
He hadn’t even glanced at her, but she studied his long, lean body, different in jeans and a black sweater. Different, but no less devastating.
“Did you hear me?” he asked.
“It was a hell of a greeting.”
He seemed to see her for the first time. Heat invaded his eyes. He could hypnotize an unwary woman with a single glance. But she couldn’t force herself to look away.
“One more wet leaf and the roof will cave in.” He might have been talking ham sandwiches and coffee. His words didn’t affect her half as much as his husky tones.
“I’m not afraid.” She shuddered. “Spring’s here, so I’m safe until fall.” Safe? Not unless she could get rid of him. She had to get a grip. “They’re giving me a monthly rate, and I can’t afford anything more plush.”
He walked in as if she’d invited him. She stepped out of his way.
“The room smells of mold.” He crossed to the heat, tapped the vents and then wiped his hands on his legs. “How do you feel about carbon monoxide?”
“Don’t say stuff like that. I scare easy.” She closed her mouth with a snap. “Honestly, I’ve stayed in far worse. None of the guests knifed each other in the parking lot last night, and I got a free show.” She pointed to the Crowded Beer Case, a drinking establishment whose red neon lights flashed through the gaps in her drapes.
“Maybe you should put in a bid to buy the place.” Patrick filled the room with broad, unlawyerly