Read Online Love with the Proper Stranger by Suzanne Brockmann - Free Book Online
Authors: Suzanne Brockmann
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course—before the anxiety causing stress could be relieved.
Miller flipped through the chapters on breathing exercises and self-hypnosis techniques, focusing instead on the section about reducing stress through sex. There was nothing like regularly scheduled orgasmic release—according to the esteemed Dr. Hollis, whoever the hell he was—to counter the bad effects of stress on the human nervous system.
Each of the exercises outlined in the book—and this section went on for an entire detailed chapter—were designed to be both physically and emotionally relaxing. They were also designed to be done either by a couple, or by an individual. Women could make use of certain “assistive” devices if they so desired, Dr. Hollis pointed out.
Miller had gotten a hell of a lot of mileage out of thinking about Mariah performing those exercises, with or without assistive devices.
But she still hadn’t returned by lunchtime, and Miller had gone back to the resort. He’d spent the afternoon helping Daniel fine-tune the surveillance equipment the younger man had planted in Serena Westford’s rented house. Yesterday, around noon, their suspect had gone off island. Instead of following her, assuming that if she was going over the causeway to the mainland she was planning to stay for a while, Daniel had used the opportunity to hide miniature microphones in key spots in Serena’s home.
Their surveillance system was up and running.
And now Miller was back outside Mariah’s house, watching the sun set, wondering where she had gone, feeling slightly sick to his stomach from fatigue.
He heard the squeak of her bicycle before he saw her. As he watched, she turned up her driveway, getting off her bike and pushing it the last few feet up the hill. She put down the kickstand, but the sandy ground was too soft to hold it up, and she leaned it against the side of the house instead.
She slipped her arms out of her backpack and tossed it down near the foot of the stairs leading up to her deck. And then, kicking her feet free from a pair of almost ridiculously clunky work boots, she pulled her T-shirt over her head and headed directly toward the ocean.
As Miller watched, she dropped her shirt on the sand and crash-dived into the water. She didn’t notice him until she was on her way back out. And then she saw Princess first.
Mariah’s running shorts clung to her thighs, their waistband sagging down across her smooth stomach, the pull of the water turning them into hip huggers. The effect was incredibly sexy, but she quickly hiked her shorts up, pulling at the thin fabric in an attempt to keep it from sticking to her legs.
“John,” she said, smiling at him. “Hi.”
She was wearing some kind of athletic bra-type thing, the word “Champion,” emblazoned across her full breasts. There was nothing she could do to keep
that
wet fabric from clinging, but she seemed more concerned with keeping her belly button properly concealed.
And Miller couldn’t think of anything besides the exercise that Dr. Hollis called “Releasing Control.” And the one the good doctor called “Pressure Cooker Release.” And something particularly intriguing that wascutely labeled “Seabirds in Flight.” It was a damned good thing
his
shorts weren’t wet and clinging to
his
body.
“Hey.” Somehow he managed to make his voice sound friendly—and as if he
wasn’t
thinking about how incredible it would be to reenact that famous beach scene in
From Here to Eternity
with this woman right here and now. “Where’ve you been all day?”
“Were you looking for me?” She couldn’t hide the pleasure in her voice or the spark of attraction in her eyes.
Miller felt that same twinge of something disquieting and he forced it away. So she liked him. Big deal. “I came by this morning,” he told her.
The waves tugged again at her shorts, and she came all the way out of the water to stand self-consciously, dripping on the sand. She had no towel to
Miller flipped through the chapters on breathing exercises and self-hypnosis techniques, focusing instead on the section about reducing stress through sex. There was nothing like regularly scheduled orgasmic release—according to the esteemed Dr. Hollis, whoever the hell he was—to counter the bad effects of stress on the human nervous system.
Each of the exercises outlined in the book—and this section went on for an entire detailed chapter—were designed to be both physically and emotionally relaxing. They were also designed to be done either by a couple, or by an individual. Women could make use of certain “assistive” devices if they so desired, Dr. Hollis pointed out.
Miller had gotten a hell of a lot of mileage out of thinking about Mariah performing those exercises, with or without assistive devices.
But she still hadn’t returned by lunchtime, and Miller had gone back to the resort. He’d spent the afternoon helping Daniel fine-tune the surveillance equipment the younger man had planted in Serena Westford’s rented house. Yesterday, around noon, their suspect had gone off island. Instead of following her, assuming that if she was going over the causeway to the mainland she was planning to stay for a while, Daniel had used the opportunity to hide miniature microphones in key spots in Serena’s home.
Their surveillance system was up and running.
And now Miller was back outside Mariah’s house, watching the sun set, wondering where she had gone, feeling slightly sick to his stomach from fatigue.
He heard the squeak of her bicycle before he saw her. As he watched, she turned up her driveway, getting off her bike and pushing it the last few feet up the hill. She put down the kickstand, but the sandy ground was too soft to hold it up, and she leaned it against the side of the house instead.
She slipped her arms out of her backpack and tossed it down near the foot of the stairs leading up to her deck. And then, kicking her feet free from a pair of almost ridiculously clunky work boots, she pulled her T-shirt over her head and headed directly toward the ocean.
As Miller watched, she dropped her shirt on the sand and crash-dived into the water. She didn’t notice him until she was on her way back out. And then she saw Princess first.
Mariah’s running shorts clung to her thighs, their waistband sagging down across her smooth stomach, the pull of the water turning them into hip huggers. The effect was incredibly sexy, but she quickly hiked her shorts up, pulling at the thin fabric in an attempt to keep it from sticking to her legs.
“John,” she said, smiling at him. “Hi.”
She was wearing some kind of athletic bra-type thing, the word “Champion,” emblazoned across her full breasts. There was nothing she could do to keep
that
wet fabric from clinging, but she seemed more concerned with keeping her belly button properly concealed.
And Miller couldn’t think of anything besides the exercise that Dr. Hollis called “Releasing Control.” And the one the good doctor called “Pressure Cooker Release.” And something particularly intriguing that wascutely labeled “Seabirds in Flight.” It was a damned good thing
his
shorts weren’t wet and clinging to
his
body.
“Hey.” Somehow he managed to make his voice sound friendly—and as if he
wasn’t
thinking about how incredible it would be to reenact that famous beach scene in
From Here to Eternity
with this woman right here and now. “Where’ve you been all day?”
“Were you looking for me?” She couldn’t hide the pleasure in her voice or the spark of attraction in her eyes.
Miller felt that same twinge of something disquieting and he forced it away. So she liked him. Big deal. “I came by this morning,” he told her.
The waves tugged again at her shorts, and she came all the way out of the water to stand self-consciously, dripping on the sand. She had no towel to
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