If Winter Comes by Diana Palmer Page B

you know?”
     
    She shook her head. “I
was just nineteen, and horribly naïve. I met him while I was a freshman in
college. He was one of the instructors. We went together for two months before
I found out.”
     
    She felt him tense.
“How far had it gone?”
     
    She shifted restlessly.
“Almost too far,” she admitted, remembering the phone call that had saved her
virtue. A phone call from his wife, and she’d answered the phone…
     
    “And you gave up on
life because of one bad experience?” he asked quietly.
     
    “I learned not to trust
men,” she corrected, bending her head. “It was…safer…to stay at home, unless I
was with girl friends.”
     
    “And now, Carla?” he
persisted.
     
    She chewed on her lower
lip nervously. “I…don’t know.”
     
    His hand slid down her
hips, pulling her back closer to him. Involuntarily, her hands went to push
against the intimacy of his, and he laughed.
     
    “Turn on the broiler
for me,” he said, releasing her. “That omelet’s going to be stone cold.”
     
    She obeyed him
mindlessly, fighting down her confusion.
     
    They ate in a
companionable silence, and she felt his dark eyes watching her when she wasn’t
watching him. Something was happening between them. She could feel it, and it
frightened her.
     
    Afterward, she put the
dishes in the sink to soak, refusing his offer of help to wash them, and led
the way into the living room nervously.
     
    “I can’t stay,” he
said. “I’ve got to stop in at a cocktail party later tonight to try and twist
the governor’s arm for emergency funding for my revitalization.”
     
    “Dressed like that?”
she asked without thinking.
     
    “It’s informal,” he
teased. His dark, bold eyes traveled down the length of her slender body. “You
look pretty informal yourself.”
     
    “I wasn’t expecting
company.”
     
    “Sorry I came?” he
asked bluntly.
     
    “No,” she replied.
     
    His jaw tightened, and
she saw a strange darkness grow in his eyes as he looked at her. He held her
gaze until she thought her heart was going to burst, until the only sound she
could hear was the wild beating of her own heart.
     
    “Good night, Carla,” he
said abruptly and, turning, went out the door without a backward glance.
     
    She stood exactly where
she was and caught her breath. He hadn’t wanted to go out that door. She’d read
it in his eyes. But he hadn’t kissed her. He still hadn’t kissed her.
     
    “What’s wrong with me?”
she asked the room unsteadily, turning to look in the mirror. But all she saw
was a disappointed face and a body in a too-tight blouse. The reflection told
her nothing.
     
     
     
    She had Daniel Brown,
the informant, meet her for coffee the next afternoon in the small
international coffee house where she had gone with Moreland that first time.
Brown was a personable young man with an honest face, but she didn’t quite like
the way his blue eyes darted away while he spoke.
     
    “Did you know that the
mayor and James White were close friends?” he asked as they sat and drank
coffee at a corner table.
     
    She stared at him.
“James White? Isn’t he that rich realtor who was investigated for fraud last
year?”
     
    “The same. Do a little
digging, and you may come up with some interesting little tidbits.”
     
    “Why are you furnishing
all this information so generously?” she asked abruptly.
     
    He looked
uncomfortable. “I don’t like corruption,” he replied.
     
    “Is that the truth?”
she probed, “or are you just trying to get back at the people who helped you
out of your job?”
     
    He shrugged. “It’s a
dog-eat-dog world.”
     
    “Sometimes,” she agreed.
“Why do you think Moreland’s involved?”
     
    “He’s got too much
money showing to be a mayor,” he replied vaguely.
     
    “So he has. But I
understood he was independently wealthy.”
     
    “Did you?” he asked.
“You’re seeing a lot of him lately.”
     
    “I’m working on a