Read Online Hale's Point by Patricia Ryan - Free Book Online

going to swim from one end of the
pool to the other, and they’d have to swim after her. And whoever caught her
could… you know… have her.”
    The massage stopped, his hands resting on her shoulders. “Have
her, as in… have her ?” Harley
opened her eyes and nodded over her shoulder. He turned her around so he could
look her in the face. “Really? And she meant it?”
    “She always meant everything she said, and they knew it. She
was just that kind of person. If she said she was going to do something, she’d
do it.”
    “Kind of like you.” he said. “What is it you said? ‘I always
do what I say I’m going to do’?”
    She pulled away from his grip. “Yeah, well—”
    “Did she ever have to… pay up?”
    “No. She was an Olympic swimmer, remember, and these were
injured men. She said once a guy almost caught her. He’d been a competitive swimmer himself, before he got drafted. No
one else ever got close, but they all tried real hard. She was a beautiful
woman in middle age, when I knew her. She must have been spectacular in her
twenties.”
    Tucker grinned. “I think it’s a great inspirational
technique.”
    “I’m sure you do.” Draping the towel over her arm, she said, “Thanks
for the massage. I’m going to catch a hot shower, then read in my room for a
little while and turn in.” Tucker looked at his watch and frowned. “Yeah, I
know, it’s early, but I want to get back on schedule with my six-o’clock swim
tomorrow.” She was sorry she had said the word “schedule” when she saw the look
on his face.
    “This regimen of yours blows my mind,” he said, picking up
his cane. “You know, you really don’t have to drive yourself like that, just to
stay in shape.”
    “I’m not driving myself, I just—”
    “Sure, you are. You don’t know how not to. Getting an M.B.A. is
just one more example of it. M.B.A.’s are for people who want to spend their
whole lives clawing up that ladder, maneuvering for the next deal, the next
promotion, the next raise. What joy can there be in that? What satisfaction?”
    “The pay’s good.”
    “Money? Is that what it’s all about?” He looked grim. “Maybe
this has managed to escape you, but it seems to me I’ve heard about a million
times that money doesn’t buy happiness. Trust me, it’s true.”
    “That’s easy for you to say, isn’t it, with that silver spoon
hanging out of your mouth.”
    “I earned my own way,” he said testily; she had touched a
nerve. “I started from scratch at sixteen and I worked for what I’ve got, so
don’t go tarring me with that brush.”
    “Well, earning my own way is exactly what I’m trying to do, so don’t go condemning
me for it!” Her voice had risen, and now she struggled to control it. “I don’t
deny that I’m driven. If you knew how I grew up, how I lived—” She stopped
herself and took a breath. “It’s just that I want something better, and I don’t
like people telling me I’m some kind of mercenary—”
    “I wasn’t saying that.” His raw voice adopted a quiet,
conciliatory tone. He took a step toward her.
    She stepped back. “That’s exactly what you were saying, and I
resent it. I know what you think of me. You’ve got me all sized up.”
    “If I do, it’s because you won’t let me near you. You grill
me about myself, my past, but you won’t tell me a thing about yourself. I’d like to know how you grew up, how you lived—”
    “No, you wouldn’t.” The words quivered in her throat. He
seemed about to speak, but then just stared at her, his expression sober. When
she spoke again, her voice was softly grim. “You wouldn’t. And I assure you I
don’t want to talk about it. Good night.”
    She turned, and he seized her with his free hand, gripping
her by the shoulder as he came around to face her. “Don’t freeze me out,
Harley. Maybe we only just met, and maybe we have nothing in common, but that
doesn’t mean we can’t communicate, for God’s