didn’t make any sense.
“I love your hair,” he had told her as he had lifted a strand and wound it around his finger.
“I’m not a natural blonde, you know. I was when I was a child, but underneath this expensive dye job, it’s a mousy brown.”
He had laughed and kissed her. “Anything else about you fake?” He had caressed her, skimming his hand over first one breast and then the other, running his fingers down across her belly and cupping her mound with gentle possessiveness.
“What do you think?” she had teased him.
“I think everything else is one hundred percent real, but before I make a definite decision, I believe further investigation is in order.”
That had been the first time they had made love, the night she had realized she was madly in love with her knight in shining armor. They hadn’t said I love you then. Not until months later.
Months? How many months?
“Olivia,” he called to her.
It was Jed’s voice. He was the man in the alley behind her, the man who had been chasing her.
You love him. He loves you. You trust him. You know he would never hurt you. Listen to your heart. What if the poison had been in the food? What if someone at the restaurant…? No, that doesn’t make any sense, either.
“Jed,” she cried out to him. “Help me, Jed. I’m so sick. I’ve been poisoned.”
She crumpled down onto the damp pavement, drew her legs up and bowed her head as she waited for Jed. Was he her rescuer, her true hero? Or was he her killer?
“I’m here, honey. Everything is going to be all right.”
She could make out only a man’s silhouette as he approached, but the moment he took her hand in his and she felt the tender strength of his touch, she closed her eyes and sighed. He took her in his arms, lifted her, carried her, held her close.
“Poisoned,” she repeated. “Hospital.”
“Hush, Olivia. Hush, sweetheart. Just relax and rest. You’re going to be fine. I promise.”
Jed Merrill kept his promises. Always. He was a man of honor and integrity. He would never hurt her. Why had she ever thought he had poisoned her? It was the champagne. He had brought a bottle of expensive Dom Pérignon. She remembered he had opened the bottle and poured the bubbly wine into their glasses.
“Here’s to us, to our future together.”
She’d been so happy. They had been celebrating something important. But what?
Somehow, someway, someone had poisoned her. The only person she knew who wanted her dead was Dalton Carr. Without her eyewitness testimony, the D.A.’s case wouldn’t be as strong and there was a chance Dalton would be found not guilty.
“Jed,” she managed to whisper his name.
“Don’t talk. Just rest.”
“Poison. Who?”
Jed didn’t answer her. But she could hear him talking to someone else. She couldn’t make out what they were saying. Who was he talking to?
Oh, God, she was sleepy. So sleepy. Was she dying?
I don’t want to die. I want to live. I’m young and in love. I have my whole life ahead of me. Jed and I are going to get married.
A shudder racked Olivia from head to toe. Gentle hands lifted a blanket up and over her, tucking it around her shoulders. She sighed as sleep overcame her. Her last coherent thought was the memory of Jed proposing, her accepting, him putting a ring on her finger, and then popping open the champagne.
They had been celebrating their engagement.
* * *
Olivia woke to morning sunlight winking through the partially closed blinds at the double windows. She stretched languidly, but paused midstretch when she realized just how sore her body was, from throat to rib cage to abdomen. And then she realized she was not at home, not in her own bed, and she wasn’t at Jed’s place, either. Glancing around the room, scanning the pale walls, the tiled floor, the IV bag hanging beside the bed, and the hustle and bustle of people outside her half-open door, Olivia knew she was in the hospital.
What was she doing here?
She had
“I love your hair,” he had told her as he had lifted a strand and wound it around his finger.
“I’m not a natural blonde, you know. I was when I was a child, but underneath this expensive dye job, it’s a mousy brown.”
He had laughed and kissed her. “Anything else about you fake?” He had caressed her, skimming his hand over first one breast and then the other, running his fingers down across her belly and cupping her mound with gentle possessiveness.
“What do you think?” she had teased him.
“I think everything else is one hundred percent real, but before I make a definite decision, I believe further investigation is in order.”
That had been the first time they had made love, the night she had realized she was madly in love with her knight in shining armor. They hadn’t said I love you then. Not until months later.
Months? How many months?
“Olivia,” he called to her.
It was Jed’s voice. He was the man in the alley behind her, the man who had been chasing her.
You love him. He loves you. You trust him. You know he would never hurt you. Listen to your heart. What if the poison had been in the food? What if someone at the restaurant…? No, that doesn’t make any sense, either.
“Jed,” she cried out to him. “Help me, Jed. I’m so sick. I’ve been poisoned.”
She crumpled down onto the damp pavement, drew her legs up and bowed her head as she waited for Jed. Was he her rescuer, her true hero? Or was he her killer?
“I’m here, honey. Everything is going to be all right.”
She could make out only a man’s silhouette as he approached, but the moment he took her hand in his and she felt the tender strength of his touch, she closed her eyes and sighed. He took her in his arms, lifted her, carried her, held her close.
“Poisoned,” she repeated. “Hospital.”
“Hush, Olivia. Hush, sweetheart. Just relax and rest. You’re going to be fine. I promise.”
Jed Merrill kept his promises. Always. He was a man of honor and integrity. He would never hurt her. Why had she ever thought he had poisoned her? It was the champagne. He had brought a bottle of expensive Dom Pérignon. She remembered he had opened the bottle and poured the bubbly wine into their glasses.
“Here’s to us, to our future together.”
She’d been so happy. They had been celebrating something important. But what?
Somehow, someway, someone had poisoned her. The only person she knew who wanted her dead was Dalton Carr. Without her eyewitness testimony, the D.A.’s case wouldn’t be as strong and there was a chance Dalton would be found not guilty.
“Jed,” she managed to whisper his name.
“Don’t talk. Just rest.”
“Poison. Who?”
Jed didn’t answer her. But she could hear him talking to someone else. She couldn’t make out what they were saying. Who was he talking to?
Oh, God, she was sleepy. So sleepy. Was she dying?
I don’t want to die. I want to live. I’m young and in love. I have my whole life ahead of me. Jed and I are going to get married.
A shudder racked Olivia from head to toe. Gentle hands lifted a blanket up and over her, tucking it around her shoulders. She sighed as sleep overcame her. Her last coherent thought was the memory of Jed proposing, her accepting, him putting a ring on her finger, and then popping open the champagne.
They had been celebrating their engagement.
* * *
Olivia woke to morning sunlight winking through the partially closed blinds at the double windows. She stretched languidly, but paused midstretch when she realized just how sore her body was, from throat to rib cage to abdomen. And then she realized she was not at home, not in her own bed, and she wasn’t at Jed’s place, either. Glancing around the room, scanning the pale walls, the tiled floor, the IV bag hanging beside the bed, and the hustle and bustle of people outside her half-open door, Olivia knew she was in the hospital.
What was she doing here?
She had
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