Read Online Golden Threads by Kay Hooper - Free Book Online

chest, while his other hand tangled in her hair. She heard a soft murmur of disappointment escape her lips when his mouth left them, but the dissatisfaction ebbed as he began exploring the sensitive flesh of her throat.
    "Lara..." His voice was thick, impeded. "Lord, what are you doing to me?"
    She caught her breath in a gasp as his lips settled over the pulse beating in her throat and she felt a jolt of exquisite pleasure. His touch evoked a sweet, stinging ache that spread throughout her body like ripples in a pool. She couldn't seem to breathe after that single gasp, as if even that life-giving function had suspended itself in taut waiting.
    Then, suddenly, Devon released her, eased her hands away from him, and sat up. His shoulders were stiff, his face drawn. Without looking at her, he said, "Lara..."
    Bewildered, she pushed herself up and sat staring at him. "What's wrong?"
    In a low voice, he said, "When you believe there may not be a tomorrow, it's easy to follow your impulses. To give in to desires without dwelling on the consequences."
    "Is that what you think I'm doing?"
    Devon gave her an odd look, then sighed. "You have to be sure, that's all I'm saying."
    She scrambled to her feet. "Fine. Ready to leave?"
    He got up silently, gathering the blanket and basket and following her to his car. But instead of starting the engine immediately, he sat gazing through the windshield.
    Lara couldn't help stealing glances at him, even though she felt cold and miserable. Part of her was angry that Devon was being rational about this, yet she was all too aware that he had been at least half-right, she couldn't deny her own reckless willingness to live right now, today. He made her forget everything when he held her in his arms, and she wanted that.
    "Are we going?" she questioned abruptly, unable to bear the silence a moment longer.
    He glanced at her, hesitated, then swore softly and started the car. When they reached her apartment building, he caught her wrist when she would have gotten hastily out of the car.
    "Wait." He studied the front of the building almost absently, his gaze on a van with a landscaping service logo painted on it and two men energetically pruning bushes on either side of the front entrance.
    Lara tried to pull away. "You don't have to come inside with me. I'll be fine, Devon."
    He looked intently at her. "You've said that before."
    "And I meant it." She kept her voice steady. "You were right. The last thing I need today is a fling. I’ll wait and see if there's a tomorrow. Thanks for lunch."
    "Your car's still at the theater," he said. "I'll pick you up at a quarter to six."
    She pulled her hand away and got out of the car, closing the door without another word.
    Devon watched her until she vanished inside the building. He returned his gaze to the gardeners at work, who had spared him no more than cursory glances. He put his hand on the gearshift, hesitated, then put the car in gear and drew away from the curb with a bleak sigh.
    It was always difficult, he reminded himself savagely. But this time it was far worse than that. Lara wasn't an enemy. She was a lonely, wary woman trapped in a situation not of her making. She was so damned vulnerable, and he couldn't help but wonder if, like Rapunzel, she was bound to fall for the first man who found a way into her prison.
    It was that as much as his own deception that was tearing him apart. Did she want him? Or would any "prince" evoke the same response in her? And if she wanted him, how would she feel when she discovered what he really was?
    He longed to tell her, but couldn't. Her entire life was a lie, one she hated; what would she think of his lie? The thought wasn't really a question, because he knew what she'd think. He thought it himself. "Bastard," he murmured.
     
    "Lara, how about this?" Nick placed sheet music on the somewhat battered piano that stood center stage surrounded by the chaos of the stage crew.
    She slipped onto the bench and studied the