"But, I--"
"Shut up and listen to me. I'll check it out. Start praying if you'velied , lady. And pay sharp attention here. Don't call the police. Or whisper a word of this conversation to anyone. I'll know. And you'll be really sorry.Really sorry. Understand? Especially don't go to Condor. I'll know. And I'll check out what you've told me."
"I'm telling you--"
"You'll be hearing from me."
"Wait!"
A sharp click and a dull buzz told Bryn that the caller was no longer on the line. She stared at the receiver, numb with fear and incredulity.
"Aunt Bryn?"
She started shaking when Brian's voice startled her from her state of numbness.
"Aunt Bryn, what's the matter?"
"Nothing, nothing," she lied. She started dragging bowls and cereal boxes from the cabinets, but her movements were rough and jerky. "Brian, go get your brothers. Your clothes are laid out on the dresser.
Help Adam for me, will you? Then hurry on down. We're running late this morning."
As the terror of actually hearing the voice began to fade, Bryn tried to convince herself that it had been a joke after all.
The fan who had appeared at her door was trying a scaretactic, that was all. She wasn't really in any danger. And she didn't have the pictures anymore. Lee had them. The caller would find that out, and that would be the end of it.
It had to be... it had to be... it had to be...
Somehow she managed to act normal. She hesitated when it was time to open the front door, but Keith bounded on past her and threw it open. A scream rose to her throat as she saw a man on the step again, but it disappeared unvoiced as she realized that today the male on her porch was only Andrew.
"Andrew! What are you doing here?"
He grimaced, lowering his head, then meeting her eyes sheepishly. "I...uh...had a late date. I'm in a state Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
of... uh...mild intoxication.But I recognized your neighborhood and, well, would you give a hitchhiker a lift?''
Under normal circumstances she would have laughed. Andrew, the handsome, sexy, popular rock idol standing on her steps after a clandestine appointment like a delinquent child.
She didn't laugh. She was too glad to see him. He was flesh and blood and real, and his presence made the nightmare of the whispered voice fade away.
"Of course, Andrew.Hop in!" She pointed to the van.
"Want me to drive?" he queried.
Had he seen her hands shaking? "No, I'm used to the route," she told him. He laughed with the kids as she ushered them all into the vehicle. He began to talk about music, and Bryn slowly felt herself relax.
But something was troubling her. Andrew was in the back, next to Keith. She glanced at him in the mirror.
He didn't look like he had been out on a late date last night. He looked extremely well rested.And fastidiously neat. There wasn't a wrinkle anywhere on his clothing....
Bryn issued a soft sigh. Andrew was always impeccably neat. He probably folded his clothes carefully no matter how intoxicated he was--and she was certain he would shower and shave, even if he had to remove his whiskers with a sharp rock. She sure as hell wasn't going to worry about his appearance, not when...
No! She didn't want to think about the phone call. It was a joke; it was all over.
She discreetly started to tease Andrew about his wild night out, telling him that she was glad he had happened to be near her house, that next time he might not be so lucky.
"Oh, I'm a survivor by nature!" he teased back, but something in his eyes was more serious than his tone implied.
Bryn hadn't been at the Fulton House for more than an hour before she became fully convinced that Lee Condor was a direct descendant of the Marquis deSade .Over and over, over and over...
Every muscle in her body ached. Muscles that she hadn't known she had--even as a dancer--ached.
And Lee seemed exceptionally tense. His eyes, when he looked at her, seemed to burn through her; his hands on her were almost rough.
Once again he wanted to try the fall from another step up. She agreed, simply because he seemed so brooding that she hadn't the strength to argue with him.
But she was frightened. She had never liked heights. She hated to fly; she hated tall buildings. It wasn't a neurosis; at least, she didn't think it was. Being high up just scared her. It made her feel uncomfortable.
"If you can't do it, Miss Keller..." he began in exasperation, his hands on his hips.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"I can do it," she replied curtly.
And she did. But her heart thundered a thousand times in the brief seconds as she spun and fell, seconds that seemed like an eternity. But his arms were there.Powerful and secure. Catching her smoothly, except for the sense of...
Tension.
He was always tense. Always radiating energy, always ready to spin and turn and come up behind you with silent agility.
"Ready for a second try?"