"Feehan, Christine - Lover Beware 03 - Brand, Fiona - After Midnight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feehan Christine)

Her waist was small, her hip bones jutting faintly, her stomach flat. Her hand came to rest on the strip of tanned skin left bare where her tank top had separated from the waistband of her shorts, and the heat of her palm against her skin sent a small shiver through her. The weight loss had made her more sensitive, as if the gradual paring away of her normal subcutaneous layer had left all of her nerve endings exposed and unprotected.
Abruptly, she wondered what it would be like for her belly to swell with a child.

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A part of her longed fiercely for the physical changes that pregnancy forced on the female body. For more years than she cared to count, she'd wanted her belly to balloon and her breasts to grow heavy with milk. She'd wanted a baby to hold in her arms, to suckle at her breasts, and she wanted to be tired because her life was filled with kids, and not just emptiness.
She'd ached with wanting a baby, and still did, but as the years had passed and all of her energy had been focused on Patrick, the sharp, panicked feeling that her childbearing years were slipping away had dulled into acceptance.
Maybe Patrick's death had sharpened her need to have a baby, or maybe it was simply that her biological clock was ticking loudly because she was over thirty-but she didn't just want children in the misty, uncertain future, she wanted to be pregnant now. Too much time had slid by while her body had simply marked time. She wanted to know there was a baby growing inside her.
She was young enough to remarry, young enough to start a family if she wanted, but her mind flinched from the process of getting pregnant. After years of having a separate room from Patrick, the thought of sleeping with a man, the shattering vulnerability of making love, quite frankly scared the living daylights out of her.
She picked up the crumpled note, smoothed it out, and looked at the firm, slanted writing.
Call me.
Just like that.
If she called Rider, within five minutes she would be flat on her back and penetrated.
A raw flash of heat went through her, starting a dull throbbing between her thighs.
Michael was big, taller than Patrick had been-six foot two, at least-heavier and more muscular, and intensely male. Sex with him would be hot and vital, and there was no question in her mind that he would make her pregnant. The thought of having him on top of her, sliding inside her and climaxing, sent another raw shudder through her and her breasts tightened, the nipples erect and almost painfully sensitive.
When she was ready for that-if she was ever ready-she

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would call him, and it registered that, regardless of Rider's availability, and frightened out of her skin of the process or not, she was mentally preparing herself to have sex with Michael Rider.

Chapter 5
AT FIVE IN the morning, Jane woke from a fitful sleep, drenched with perspiration, the tank top and panties she'd worn to bed clinging uncomfortably to her skin. Untangling the single sheet that was wound around her legs, she pushed the damp cotton aside, paced to her window, and pushed it wide. Sometime in the night a fitful wind had got up, but the heavy mantle of cloud remained, blanking out the moon and stars, so that darkness pressed in-thick and absolute. The faint tang of ozone filled her nostrils, along with the rich scent of rain and the pervasive sweetness of the jasmine and honeysuckle that persisted in her garden despite her attempts to weed them out.
Smothering a yawn, she showered, washed her hair, and changed into fresh clothes, then walked out to the sheds and began battening down for the storm.
Despite the canopy of cloud and the steady breeze, the heat was oppressive, and by lunchtime, coated in dust and grime from wrestling farm equipment into sheds, and jittery from expecting at any moment to hear Michael's truck coming up her drive, she was ready for a break. Changing into her swim-suit, she called Jess and walked along the worn track to the

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creek that flowed through the wild reverted country at the rear of her property. Here, the land was twisted and strange, filled with a jumble of large boulders and creepy caves, but the river was deep enough to swim in, and surrounded by ferns and nikau palms, with the added bonus of a small waterfall plunging off a limestone shelf.
As she swam, she gradually became aware that aside from the deliciously cool sound of water flowing, the bush had grown silent, as if the approaching storm had cloaked everything in a blanket of humidity, muffling sound. Tension skimmed the length of her spine as she climbed a small sloping rock face, retrieved her towel, and knotted it around her waist. Just minutes ago, Jess had been lying in the shade, happily panting; now she was nowhere to be seen.
Jane swiveled around, searching the thick bush edge, which was choked with trailing vines of supplejack and thick, spiky coprosmas. Her instinct was to call out to Jess. The little dog was more than likely exploring, but Jane didn't like the thought that she might have gotten stuck down a hole, or lost in one of the limestone caves. Here, the country was as unpredictable as it was strange, and every now and then, when a piece of limestone eroded enough, a hole simply opened up in the ground.
Oddly loath to break the silence, Jane held her hands to her mouth and called. A rustling on the other side of the bank drew her gaze. She called again. When there was no response, she reluctantly dropped the towel and climbed back down the rock face and slid into the water. A few strokes took her across to the other side of the river. Grasping moss-covered rock, she hauled herself up the bank to the spot she'd seen the thick clump of ferns move. She parted the coarse leaves, half expecting to find an opening to one of the limestone caves. There was an opening, but it was little more than a shallow concavity in the rock.
There was no sign of Jess, but the ground was trampled as if someone had hunkered down there, the vantage point high enough that whoever it was had been able to watch her swim.
Her gaze probed the bush edge, all the fine hairs at her nape lifting as she backed away from the trampled ground, clambered down to the river, and swam across to the other side. The little hidey-hole could have been made by kids com-

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ing here to swim and build huts, but the property was isolated. Apart from the Jackson family, who lived a couple of miles away, there were no children who were likely to come and spend time here.
Snagging her towel, she cinched it around her waist and headed back to the house, calling Jess as she went.
It wasn't inconceivable that a feral goat or pig had taken up residence on her land, although that scenario wasn't likely, because with the threat of tuberculosis from wild animals, most of the surrounding farmers were hot on animal control.
Maybe she was overreacting, but, whatever-or whoever- had been hunkered down there in the ferns above the swimming hole, she wasn't taking any chances.
TUCKER'S OFFICE WAS small, cluttered, and smotheringly hot, despite the fact that he had a window open to catch the breeze.
Jane sat down in the chair adjacent to his desk and set her purse on the floor. "There was someone watching me swim."
Tucker's face was weary. "Join the club. Martha Holbrook said someone was watching her take a bath last night, and Anna Wheeler claims she saw a face at her window while she got undressed, but her husband said it was probably the next-door neighbour's cat trying to get in the window. You sure it wasn't kids?"
"I don't know who, or what, it was. It could have been kids, I just..."
"Have a feeling. I know." He rubbed a hand over his balding head. "The whole town's having 'feelings.' I'll send Zane out to look around. Is your house secure and alarmed?"
"It's secure, but not alarmed. I tried to buy an alarm in Winslow yesterday. They were sold out."
Tucker grunted. "Figures. I'll get Zane to do a check on your locks. Have you considered going to stay with someone until we catch this guy?"
Jane picked up her purse and got to her feet. She hadn't expected Tucker to jump through any hoops for her, but all the same, it didn't make her happy that he was treating the matter so casually. "I've got Jess and the hens to feed, and the sheep to keep an eye on. Leaving's a great idea, but it's not practical."

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