Bound by Honor. Diana Palmer
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Название: Bound by Honor

Автор: Diana Palmer

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Короткие любовные романы

Серия: Mills & Boon M&B

isbn: 9781408953655

isbn:

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      Lorna let out a nervous breath. “I’m so glad you’re home. I need a favor.”

      The buzzer on the call box sounded again and Lorna reached to grip Melanie’s hand. “You remember Mitch Ellery?”

      Mellie’s pretty face showed her alarm. “Oh, no, Lorna. What can I do?”

      Lorna felt the sting of grateful tears. Though Melanie knew she’d silently indulged her craving to spend time with her sister, Mellie had never made more than a couple of remarks to caution Lorna about the risk. She’d kept her disapproval mostly to herself because Melanie Parker, more than anyone, understood. But Mellie knew as much as Lorna did what Mitch’s arrival now meant.

      “If he comes up,” Lorna said shakily, “I’d like you to check on me in a few minutes. Just a quick phone call, you don’t need to come over.”

      Melanie was distressed by that. “Do you think he’d hurt you? Could he become violent?”

      God, she hadn’t thought of that, but she doubted it. She shook her head.

      “He’s very angry, but I don’t think he’d hurt me. Not like that. I’m probably overreacting.”

      The buzzer on the call box sounded again and Lorna urged Melanie back into the hall.

      “I can’t make him wait, Mel. Please. Call me in…twenty minutes?”

      “That long?”

      “Twenty minutes,” Lorna repeated and tried for a smile, suddenly feeling guilty for worrying her friend. “It’ll be all right.”

      Melanie nodded, though she didn’t look convinced as she backed toward her apartment door across the hall. Lorna let her door close, then reached to press the intercom button before Mitch could ring again. If she was very, very lucky, the person downstairs would not be Mitch Ellery.

      Her soft, “Yes,” sounded strained.

      Mitch’s gravelly voice was curt. “This the right apartment?” He’d apparently recognized her voice.

      No proper greeting, no “Is this Lorna Farrell?” no “May I please come in?” No acknowledgment that she had a choice in whether she buzzed him into the building or not. Almost as if the only thing that had made him pause from charging in like an angry bull was the need to make certain he’d be charging into the right apartment.

      On the other hand, building security was sometimes lax. He could have waited until another tenant came along to slip past the locked door. The fact that he hadn’t was at least honest and some indication of a sense of propriety, if not also fair play.

      Her soft, “Yes,” was resigned. She hesitated a moment, then pressed the button that would release the lock downstairs and let him pass into the lobby.

      Real fear surged then. This was it. And, as she’d sensed, Mitch Ellery was about to charge in like a bull. Far too soon he’d cleared the stairs and she heard him striding down the hall. The cadence of his heavy boot heels was a confirmation that he was angry and would charge in. The relentless sound of his long stride coming so quickly near cranked her dread up at least a thousand notches.

      She didn’t think her nerves could take the sound of him pounding on her door, so she reached out to open it.

      CHAPTER TWO

      AT THE sight of Lorna Farrell standing so primly at the open door, Mitch stifled the same private shock he’d felt when she’d walked into John Owen’s office with Kendra.

      Lorna Farrell was slim and petite. Her dark head of glossy, shoulder-length hair curved under, her eyes were large and deeply blue, and her facial features were fine and delicate enough for a Renaissance portrait. The resemblance between her and Kendra was unmistakable.

      Five years had smoothed out her features and turned her into a beauty. She had polish now, class, and the poise of a queen. But what she had by the bucketful was a resemblance to Kendra she’d not had five years before. No doubt it was now that stronger resemblance that had made her think she could engineer another try at Doris.

      Mitch might even have given her some leeway had she simply tried to contact Doris again. His stepmother had finally confided that she’d given up a child for adoption years ago, but she’d denied the possibility that Lorna Farrell could be that child. A simple blood test might have thwarted Miss Farrell a second time. Surely she knew how easily she could be proved a liar if someone called her bluff.

      But instead of inflicting herself directly on Doris, she’d managed to wedge herself into Kendra’s life. That alone undermined her in his eyes. In the past few hours, he’d found out that Lorna had worked for John Owen long before Kendra had become engaged to him, but she’d had no business befriending Kendra, no business at all crossing the line as far as she had.

      Kendra was a sweet, naïve child-woman. Strong-willed, a little spoiled, but blinded by the optimism and generosity of youth. She hadn’t yet learned that the world was full of liars and opportunists. She hadn’t been bitten by the bitter truth that jealous people would do their damnedest to knock her down for having money or that the greedy ones would play her for a fool to get a piece of it.

      Lorna Farrell’s slick intrusion into Kendra’s confidence marked her as the second kind. And though Mitch had long thought his stepsister needed to wise up to the ways of the world, he was determined that Lorna Farrell wouldn’t be the one to educate her.

      Lorna didn’t speak and neither did he as he strode through the open door into her apartment.

      Lorna had done much better for herself these past five years than the cramped one-room apartment she’d had back then. These rooms were painted bright white, and the furniture was tasteful blend of nice pieces, though probably second hand. She liked color and she liked interesting little accents, like the whimsical caricature of a gangly palomino pony with inch-long eyelashes that stood almost a foot tall on the floor in front of an antique bookcase lined with hardcover and paperback books.

      The dove gray sofa was plush and artfully scattered with old-fashioned needlework pillows. There were a few inexpensive but tasteful paintings on the walls and she had a fondness for dark tables with delicate legs. The dining room had a bowl of vivid silk flowers in the middle of the table, and every surface throughout the two rooms he could see were polished to a deep luster.

      Everything was neat and orderly without a single thing out of place. Was this the rigid care of a woman who’d only recently come up in the world and appreciated that enough to take religious care of everything? Or was she an opportunist who liked to have nice things and by such diligent care demonstrated not only a lust for material possessions but a hunger for more and even better?

      Because he was so suspicious of her, he discounted the idea that she kept her things so neat and orderly because it was an admirable habit.

      He didn’t bother to take off his Stetson. Though it was polite to do so and expected indoors, he didn’t intend to pay her the compliment. He heard the tremor in her voice and sent her a surly glance.

      “Would you like to sit down, Mr. Ellery? Can I get you something? Coffee? A s-soda?”

      He watched color flash across her cheekbones at the small stutter and took note of the СКАЧАТЬ