Heart of Ice. Diana Palmer

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       Chapter Two

      “How have you been?” Ada asked her brother as the three of them sat around the dining room table munching pizza and drinking coffee.

      “All right,” he said, staring at the thick brown mug that held his coffee. “You?”

      Ada smiled. “Busy. It’s helped me not to dwell on Mama.”

      “She’s better off,” Egan reminded her quietly.

      “I know,” Ada said, her eyes misting. She shook her head and grabbed another slice of pizza. “Anybody else for seconds? There are three slices left.”

      “No more for me,” Kati said with a speaking glance at Egan. “I wouldn’t want to get more voluptuous than I already am.”

      “Nonsense,” blissfully ignorant Ada said. “You’re just right. Come on, have another slice.”

      “Go ahead,” Egan taunted.

      “Why don’t you?” she dared him.

      “And be accused of making a pig of myself?” he asked innocently.

      “Who would be so unkind as to call you a pig?” Kati asked sweetly.

      “Excuse me,” Ada interrupted, “but it’s Christmas. Remember? Holly and mistletoe…?”

      “Mistletoe?” Egan glanced at Kati. “I’d rather drink poison.”

      Kati glared back. “Ditto!”

      “Let’s watch television!” Ada suggested frantically. She dragged Kati into the living room and quickly turned on the set. “I’ll clear the table, you keep Egan company.”

      “You’re just afraid of getting caught in the line of fire,” Egan accused as his sister rushed out of the room.

      But Ada only grinned.

      Egan eased down into the armchair he’d vacated earlier and stared at Kati. He’d taken off his coat and vest. Both sleeves of his white silk shirt were rolled up and the neck was opened. He didn’t wear an undershirt, and through the thin fabric, bronzed muscles and a thick pelt of hair were visible. That bothered Kati, so she carefully avoided looking at him while the evening news blared into the room.

      “How’s the writing going?” Egan asked conversationally.

      “Just fine, thanks,” she replied tersely.

      “What are you working on now?”

      She swallowed. Ada had finked on her, she just knew it. “Actually, I’m doing another historical.”

      “On…?”

      She cleared her throat. “Wyoming,” she mumbled.

      “Pardon?” he said.

      Her lips made a thin line. “Wyoming,” she said louder.

      “A historical novel about Wyoming. Well, well. Have you done a lot of research?”

      She glanced at him warily. “What do you mean?”

      “Historical research,” he clarified, watching her. “You’ll have to mention cattle-ranching, I imagine?”

      “Yes,” she said grudgingly.

      “Know a lot about it, city lady?” he mocked.

      She glared at him. “I have been on a ranch before.”

      “Sure. Mine.” He stared down his nose at her. “I don’t imagine they have many big cattle ranches in Charleston?”

      “We have good people,” she returned. “With excellent breeding.”

      His eyebrows arched. “Yes, I know. My grandmother came from Charleston.”

      She glared at him. “Did she, really?” she asked coldly.

      He smiled softly. “She used to say it was where the Cooper and Ashley Rivers meet to form the Atlantic Ocean.”

      She’d heard that, too, in her childhood in the South Carolina coastal city, and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling with him.

      “She was a redhead too,” he continued, waiting for a reaction.

      “My hair isn’t red,” she said, predictably.

      “Honey and fox fur,” he argued, studying it.

      She flushed. That sounded oddly poetic, and she didn’t like the tingle that ran through her.

      She glanced at her watch. “Excuse me. I’d better put on a dress.”

      Egan glared. “Going somewhere?”

      “Yes.” She left him sitting there and went to find Ada. “Jack’s coming for me at seven,” she reminded her friend. “I’ve got to get dressed.”

      “I’ll go keep Egan company. Lucky you, to have a boyfriend in town.” She sighed. “Mine’s out at sea again.”

      “Marshal will be back before you know it,” she murmured. “Sorry to run out on you.”

      “You’ll have fun.” Ada grinned. “And so will I. I like Egan. He’s great company, even if he is my brother.”

      Well, there was no accounting for taste. She couldn’t imagine Egan being great company; but then, she wasn’t related to him.

      She put on a black cocktail dress and wore red accessories with it. Her eyes gave her a critical appraisal. She’d twirled her hair into a French twist and added a rhinestone clip to it, and she liked that elegant touch. She grinned. Jack would love it.

      Jack Asher was a reporter for the New СКАЧАТЬ