Read Online Darkling I Listen by Katherine Sutcliffe - Free Book Online
Authors: Katherine Sutcliffe
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he always did. It was what made him so appealing to the female masses. He was a man on the edge. Dangerous.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" he demanded before she could totally collect her sensibilities.
"Nothing like getting right to the point, is there?" She attempted to smile, and failed. Clearing her throat, she extended her hand across the table and did her best to recall all the pat words and phrases she had rehearsed in preparation for this moment. "How do you do, Mr. Carlyle. I'm Alyson James. I'm greatly honored to meet you at long last. I'm a huge fan, of course… "
He ignored her hand.
"I apologize for the earlier fiasco. It was stupid of me. I'm usually smarter than that."
He still ignored her hand.
"Just for revenge you could stake me out spread-eagled on the courthouse lawn and subject me to twenty-four hours of Sheriff Dillman's good humor." Curling her arm back into her lap, she sank deeper into the booth. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"
"No." He shook his head, spilling strands of dark brown hair over his brow.
Janet ambled to their table with a cup of black coffee in each hand. Dishes rattled as she placed them, then dug into her pocket for a handful of individual creamers. She sized up Alyson speculatively before turning her attention on Brandon . "How's your aunt Bernice, Mr. Carlyle? Any improvement at all?"
Brandon turned his blue eyes up to Janet and smiled. The woman's face went a little slack, and color crept up her neck. "No improvement, Janet. Thanks for your concern. I'll tell her you asked about her."
"Henry dropped in earlier. On his way to Doc's office. Mentioned you had a little trouble at your place earlier. Everything okay now?" Her gaze shifted again to Alyson.
The flush had crept over Janet's cheeks.
"Everything's fine," Carlyle assured her.
Nodding, Janet withdrew a check from her pocket and slid it onto the table, facedown. "If you need anything, Mr. Carlyle, just let me know." She turned away, glanced once over her shoulder before wandering across the room to see to the pair of farmers.
"It's obvious the people of this town think very highly of you—aside from the sheriff, of course." Alyson reached for a couple of creamers and did her best to focus on something other than the fact that he still looked as if he fully intended to reach across the table and choke her. Lord, why couldn't she ignore the idiotic thrills shooting from one throbbing nerve to the other? "I suppose that's not surprising, since you were born here. Still, small towns have a way of being very narrow-minded when it comes to scandal. You must have encountered some resistance when you returned here after your release from prison."
"Who do you work for?" he asked, nudging his coffee aside.
"I told you—"
"You're lying."
"I want—"
"What do you want? Or rather, how much?"
She blinked, frowned, and forced herself to focus on his sharp eyes again. "Sorry. I don't follow you."
"What's it going to cost me for you to drive out of this town and forget you saw me here?"
"Ah." She poured a stream of sugar into the beige coffee. "You think I'm into blackmail." She stirred the beverage with a spoon. "Don't get your BYDs in a twist, Carlyle. Your bank account doesn't interest me. Neither does your body, as gorgeous as it may be. I'm not Anticipating , if that has you worried. I have more interesting things to do with my life than tag along after narcissistic movie stars and besiege them with gooey love letters."
"Like climbing trees in order to take photographs of them." His gaze cut to the Discount Drug sack. He grabbed it before she could react, and dumped it out on the table, spilling the contents in a heap. His face grew dark at the sight of the yellow and black envelope. Ripping it open, he spread the photos, all filled with his image, across the table. Anger radiated from him like shock waves. His hands opened and closed. Then he began to collect them and tear them into
"Who are you, and what do you want?" he demanded before she could totally collect her sensibilities.
"Nothing like getting right to the point, is there?" She attempted to smile, and failed. Clearing her throat, she extended her hand across the table and did her best to recall all the pat words and phrases she had rehearsed in preparation for this moment. "How do you do, Mr. Carlyle. I'm Alyson James. I'm greatly honored to meet you at long last. I'm a huge fan, of course… "
He ignored her hand.
"I apologize for the earlier fiasco. It was stupid of me. I'm usually smarter than that."
He still ignored her hand.
"Just for revenge you could stake me out spread-eagled on the courthouse lawn and subject me to twenty-four hours of Sheriff Dillman's good humor." Curling her arm back into her lap, she sank deeper into the booth. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"
"No." He shook his head, spilling strands of dark brown hair over his brow.
Janet ambled to their table with a cup of black coffee in each hand. Dishes rattled as she placed them, then dug into her pocket for a handful of individual creamers. She sized up Alyson speculatively before turning her attention on Brandon . "How's your aunt Bernice, Mr. Carlyle? Any improvement at all?"
Brandon turned his blue eyes up to Janet and smiled. The woman's face went a little slack, and color crept up her neck. "No improvement, Janet. Thanks for your concern. I'll tell her you asked about her."
"Henry dropped in earlier. On his way to Doc's office. Mentioned you had a little trouble at your place earlier. Everything okay now?" Her gaze shifted again to Alyson.
The flush had crept over Janet's cheeks.
"Everything's fine," Carlyle assured her.
Nodding, Janet withdrew a check from her pocket and slid it onto the table, facedown. "If you need anything, Mr. Carlyle, just let me know." She turned away, glanced once over her shoulder before wandering across the room to see to the pair of farmers.
"It's obvious the people of this town think very highly of you—aside from the sheriff, of course." Alyson reached for a couple of creamers and did her best to focus on something other than the fact that he still looked as if he fully intended to reach across the table and choke her. Lord, why couldn't she ignore the idiotic thrills shooting from one throbbing nerve to the other? "I suppose that's not surprising, since you were born here. Still, small towns have a way of being very narrow-minded when it comes to scandal. You must have encountered some resistance when you returned here after your release from prison."
"Who do you work for?" he asked, nudging his coffee aside.
"I told you—"
"You're lying."
"I want—"
"What do you want? Or rather, how much?"
She blinked, frowned, and forced herself to focus on his sharp eyes again. "Sorry. I don't follow you."
"What's it going to cost me for you to drive out of this town and forget you saw me here?"
"Ah." She poured a stream of sugar into the beige coffee. "You think I'm into blackmail." She stirred the beverage with a spoon. "Don't get your BYDs in a twist, Carlyle. Your bank account doesn't interest me. Neither does your body, as gorgeous as it may be. I'm not Anticipating , if that has you worried. I have more interesting things to do with my life than tag along after narcissistic movie stars and besiege them with gooey love letters."
"Like climbing trees in order to take photographs of them." His gaze cut to the Discount Drug sack. He grabbed it before she could react, and dumped it out on the table, spilling the contents in a heap. His face grew dark at the sight of the yellow and black envelope. Ripping it open, he spread the photos, all filled with his image, across the table. Anger radiated from him like shock waves. His hands opened and closed. Then he began to collect them and tear them into
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