Read Online A Perfect Stranger by Danielle Steel - Free Book Online
Authors: Danielle Steel
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be sitting alone for the flight.
He hoped it would be someone with as much work to do as he had. He didn't want to be bothered with conversation on the trip. He settled himself quickly, pulled the briefcase back out from under his seat, extricated the two files he wanted, glad that his seatmate had momentarily disappeared. It was several moments later when he felt a stir beside him and he instinctively shifted his gaze from the page he was reading to the floor. And as he did so he found himself staring down at a pair of very graceful and expensive black lizard shoes. Gucci, he registered without thinking, the little gold clips embedded in the throat of the shoe. He then noticed, all in a split second, that the ankles were even more attractive than the shoes. Feeling faintly like a schoolboy, he found himself looking slowly up the long elegant legs to the hem of the black skirt, and then up the interminable expanse of fine French suit to the face looking down at him, her head cocked slightly to one side. She looked as though she were going to ask him a question, and as though she were perfectly aware that he had just looked her over from her shoes to the top of her head. But as he looked up to see her a look of total astonishment overtook Alex and, without thinking, he stood up beside her and said, My God, it's you.
She looked equally startled as he said it and only stared at him, wondering what he had meant and who he was. He seemed to think he knew her, and for a terrified instant she wondered if it was someone who had long ago seen her photograph somewhere or read of her in the press. Perhaps he was even a member of the press, and for a long moment she had the urge to turn and run away. But on the plane she would be his prisoner for hours. Anxious, she began to back away from him, her eyes wide and frightened, her handbag clutched beneath her arm. She was going to find the stewardess and insist that this time she had to be moved to first class. Or perhaps it was not too late for them to deplane her. She could make the next flight to New York. I' no' . She murmured softly as she turned away, but before she could take one step from him, she felt his hand on her arm. He had seen the terror in her eyes and was horrified at what he'd done.
No, don't.
She turned to face him then, not quite sure she did it. All her instincts were still telling her to flee. Who are you?
Alex Hale. I just' it's that ' He smiled gently at her, pained at what he saw in the beautiful woman's eyes. They were eyes filled with sorrow and terror. Perhaps injured too, but that he did not know yet. All he knew was that he didn't want her to run away, not again. I saw you buy that in the airport. He glanced toward the book that still lay on her seat, and to Raphaella it was a non sequitur that made no sense at all. And I I saw you once on the steps, at Broderick and Broadway about a week ago. You were How could he tell her now that she had been crying? It would only make her run from him again. But his words seemed to jar her, and she looked at him long and hard this time. She seemed to be remembering, and slowly a faint blush overtook her face.
I She nodded and looked away. Perhaps he was not a paparazzo. Perhaps he was only a madman or a fool. But she didn't want to travel five hours sitting beside him, wondering why he had held her arm or said My God, it's you. But while she stared at him, immobile, wondering, as his eyes held her tightly, standing where she was, the final announcement to take their seats came over the loudspeaker in the airplane, and he moved slowly around her, to clear the way for her to her seat.
Why don't you sit down? He stood, looking very strong and tall and handsome, and as though unable to escape him, she silently walked past him and took her seat. She had put the hat in the overhead rack before Alex had found his seat, and now her hair shone like black silk as she bowed her head and turned away. She seemed to be looking out
He hoped it would be someone with as much work to do as he had. He didn't want to be bothered with conversation on the trip. He settled himself quickly, pulled the briefcase back out from under his seat, extricated the two files he wanted, glad that his seatmate had momentarily disappeared. It was several moments later when he felt a stir beside him and he instinctively shifted his gaze from the page he was reading to the floor. And as he did so he found himself staring down at a pair of very graceful and expensive black lizard shoes. Gucci, he registered without thinking, the little gold clips embedded in the throat of the shoe. He then noticed, all in a split second, that the ankles were even more attractive than the shoes. Feeling faintly like a schoolboy, he found himself looking slowly up the long elegant legs to the hem of the black skirt, and then up the interminable expanse of fine French suit to the face looking down at him, her head cocked slightly to one side. She looked as though she were going to ask him a question, and as though she were perfectly aware that he had just looked her over from her shoes to the top of her head. But as he looked up to see her a look of total astonishment overtook Alex and, without thinking, he stood up beside her and said, My God, it's you.
She looked equally startled as he said it and only stared at him, wondering what he had meant and who he was. He seemed to think he knew her, and for a terrified instant she wondered if it was someone who had long ago seen her photograph somewhere or read of her in the press. Perhaps he was even a member of the press, and for a long moment she had the urge to turn and run away. But on the plane she would be his prisoner for hours. Anxious, she began to back away from him, her eyes wide and frightened, her handbag clutched beneath her arm. She was going to find the stewardess and insist that this time she had to be moved to first class. Or perhaps it was not too late for them to deplane her. She could make the next flight to New York. I' no' . She murmured softly as she turned away, but before she could take one step from him, she felt his hand on her arm. He had seen the terror in her eyes and was horrified at what he'd done.
No, don't.
She turned to face him then, not quite sure she did it. All her instincts were still telling her to flee. Who are you?
Alex Hale. I just' it's that ' He smiled gently at her, pained at what he saw in the beautiful woman's eyes. They were eyes filled with sorrow and terror. Perhaps injured too, but that he did not know yet. All he knew was that he didn't want her to run away, not again. I saw you buy that in the airport. He glanced toward the book that still lay on her seat, and to Raphaella it was a non sequitur that made no sense at all. And I I saw you once on the steps, at Broderick and Broadway about a week ago. You were How could he tell her now that she had been crying? It would only make her run from him again. But his words seemed to jar her, and she looked at him long and hard this time. She seemed to be remembering, and slowly a faint blush overtook her face.
I She nodded and looked away. Perhaps he was not a paparazzo. Perhaps he was only a madman or a fool. But she didn't want to travel five hours sitting beside him, wondering why he had held her arm or said My God, it's you. But while she stared at him, immobile, wondering, as his eyes held her tightly, standing where she was, the final announcement to take their seats came over the loudspeaker in the airplane, and he moved slowly around her, to clear the way for her to her seat.
Why don't you sit down? He stood, looking very strong and tall and handsome, and as though unable to escape him, she silently walked past him and took her seat. She had put the hat in the overhead rack before Alex had found his seat, and now her hair shone like black silk as she bowed her head and turned away. She seemed to be looking out
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