Part 17 (2/2)
He gently cupped her head with his hands. ”As I told you, I've never, not for a second, thought of you as a s.l.u.t. I think, as I did then, that you're a beautiful, brave and incredibly strong young woman. I also thought Greg was lucky to have had you in his life and I was...”
Her eyes widened. ”What?”
”I was jealous that he met you first.”
She smiled and his heart fluttered uncontrollably. ”But we have now.”
His hands slid through the thickness of her hair and he gently kissed her lips. She moaned, a sweet happy sound, and returned the kiss with an ardor he was beginning to a.s.sociate with her-fiery, like her hair, and unforgettable, like her touch.
She opened her mouth and the kiss deepened as they tasted, explored and reveled in the emotions that took them away to a place of need, joy and pleasure. Daniel's hands traveled from her hair to her back and held her tight against him.
”Daniel,” she breathed against his lips.
He kissed her nose, her cheek. ”Hmm?”
Suddenly the alarm blasted through the condo. In a split second Daniel pulled his gun and pushed her behind him. ”Where's your gun?” he asked in a hoa.r.s.e voice.
”In my...in my bag.”
He grabbed her bag out of the chair and handed it to her, looking at the alarm panel in the kitchen. ”The front door light is blinking. Someone's coming through the d.a.m.n front door.” He glanced at her. ”Do you have your gun?”
”Yes,” she answered, her heart hammering so loud she could barely hear him.
”The alarm will go off at the police station and someone will call here in a few minutes. I'm going to the front door.” He stared into her eyes. ”Use the gun if you have to.”
She nodded, unable to speak. She wanted this to be over and she had to stay strong to see it through. The gun was cold and heavy in her hand, but she gripped it tightly. She'd never fired a gun before and the mere thought caused her stomach to churn with a sick feeling.
To protect Daniel, to protect herself, she'd pull the trigger. She wasn't being the victim again. Not ever again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
SARAH WAS BARELY breathing. She waited. The alarm continued to blare through the house, making her edgier than she already was. Then she heard voices-the high pitch of a woman and the baritone of a man.
”It's my parents,” Daniel called out.
A long sigh of relief escaped her and she released her grip on the gun. She walked to her bag and slipped it back inside as the alarm cut off.
”I thought you were in France,” Daniel was saying, clearly aggravated.
”We got back yesterday,” the woman's voice said. ”I was fed up with your father's partying.”
Daniel entered the den with two older people. A well-dressed woman with blond hair cut in a fas.h.i.+onable pageboy, sized up Sarah with her blue-green eyes. The tall, lean gray-haired man had brown eyes and Sarah saw where Daniel got his looks. They both stared openly at her and she felt like a specimen under a microscope. She resisted the urge to squirm.
The phone rang and Daniel ran to answer it.
”Who are you, my dear?” his mother asked.
”A friend of Daniel's,” she answered in a cautious manner, not liking the way the woman was looking at her.
”Are you the reason he hasn't returned any of my phone calls?”
”I wasn't aware you were trying to get in touch with me,” Daniel replied as he came back. Sarah was glad. She didn't want to deal with Daniel's mother.
”I left at least ten messages on your machine. Didn't you get them?”
”I've been rather busy.”
His mother glanced at Sarah. ”Yes. I can see.”
”Mom, Dad, this is Sarah Welch. Sarah, these are my parents, Muriel and Dan Garrett.”
Muriel bristled. ”Daniel, could I speak with you privately?”
Daniel walked into the dining room with his mother and Sarah stared at Dan Garrett, unsure of what to say. But she didn't get a chance because Muriel's voice could be heard, preventing any conversation.
”Isn't that Aurora Farrell's granddaughter?”
”Yes,” Daniel said.
”The stripper? The one who was in all the papers?”
”She is not and never was a stripper,” Daniel answered, his voice as sharp as a razor.
”I will not have you dating this woman.” Muriel's voice trilled. ”I want her out of this house.”
”Excuse me?”
”This is the wrong type of woman for you. What are you thinking?”
”I'm thinking she's the right kind of woman for me.”
”You can't be serious.”
”I am, and I've heard enough.” Daniel's voice grew louder. ”I want you out of my house and I want my key back to prevent any more of these surprise visits.”
”What!”
His father looked at Sarah. ”I need a drink. How about you?”
”No thanks,” she mumbled, her mind on Muriel's words. They ran through her head like a song in the wrong key-jarring, offensive. Stripper. Stripper. Stripper. Wrong type of woman.
Dan raised his gla.s.s of scotch to Sarah. ”My wife's very high-strung and is known to stick her nose in where it doesn't belong. I don't pay much attention to her and you shouldn't, either.”
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