Read Online Ransom Beach (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 2) by Lawrence Kelter - Free Book Online
Authors: Lawrence Kelter
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cheerfully called out the length of the lobby.
He turned to me, grinning. There was a sparkle in his eyes. "Stephanie, what a marvelous coincidence." Twain's deep British baritone chased away the winter chill. He was one of the most handsome black men I had ever met, a mature version of Tyson Beckford.
As always Twain looked very chic, the epitome of casual elegance. A cashmere cloak rested stylishly on his broad shoulders and a fringed, silk scarf was draped loosely around his neck.
We hugged and I gave him a friendly peck on the cheek. "You look smashing," I intoned in my best possible English accent. Twain smoothed my cheek with the back of his fingers. He smiled warmly—looking positively doe-eyed. "How wonderful to see you."
And you... Twain cut such a dashing figure. It was a good thing I had Lido in my life tugging at my heartstrings. Twain tugged at me too, but not at my heart.
"Here to see Ricky?"
He shot his cuffs, clearing a handsome Bulgari watch and checked the time. "Johnny on the spot," he replied as he tapped the crystal. '"Home Improvement' just went off. Your brother will be in a wonderful mood—situation comedy and rehabilitative therapy followed by dinner. What could be better?"
"Sounds like a plan." We grinned at each other. Ricky had been found out, that and his passion for buxom, bleached-blonde women wearing tool belts. "Men are so painfully transparent."
"Guilty as charged," Twain conceded. He smiled warmly. "I accept responsibility for the entire species." The elevator arrived. Chivalrous to a fault, Twain held the door for me while I got in. The doors closed and up we went. "We're hopeless, aren't we? It is rather romantic when you take a moment to consider though, isn't it?"
"What is?"
"All this evolution—computers, aerospace, genetic engineering, and still man devotes the bulk of his brain power to thinking about getting laid. Is it our fault we find women so positively alluring?"
It wasn't the time or the place for confession, but I'd devoted my fair share of brain power to the opposite sex. It was getting unbearably warm in the elevator. "I hope you'll stay for dinner. Ma's making veal spedini ." It was a clumsy segue but one that was necessary. Could you imagine if the elevator stopped? I didn't give myself three minutes. Like I said, Twain pushed all the right buttons.
He unwrapped his scarf and took off his coat. He was wearing a merino turtleneck that accentuated the contours of his formidable physique. I felt my lungs filling with air—usually a prelude to subtle chest heaving. I caught myself. This was not the time or place to ignite a spark. Under the right circumstances, Twain and I were as combustible as seasoned kindling wood. I didn't want to go up in a ball of flames in front of Ma and Ricky. I averted my eyes, wondering if Twain noticed that I had done so intentionally.
Twain cleared his throat. "Ricky's making some lovely progress. He's growing stronger on an emotional level every day."
I looked at Twain in fond admiration. He was my dark sentinel, a friend I had learned I could always count on. "That's great news." I said this despite the fact that I knew that Ricky was still several pine trees short of a forest. Forgive me, Anne Robinson. "You've done wonders with him. You're a good friend, Nigel." He blushed from the compliment.
Ma's door was unlocked. I knocked and then pushed it open.
Ma raced out of the kitchen. "Hello, sweetheart." It was good to see her out of a housecoat. She was wearing tan slacks and a loose fitting seed stitch sweater with a fresh gravy stain on the sleeve. We kissed and then stepped apart.
"Good security, Ma," I said, motioning to the unlocked door.
"Bah." She dismissed me with a wave of her hand. "I just unlocked it. Besides," she continued with a smile, "I got a man in the house." She focused on Dr. Twain. "Doctor, please come in. Give me your coat." She leaned forward, kissing his cheek and taking his coat in one
He turned to me, grinning. There was a sparkle in his eyes. "Stephanie, what a marvelous coincidence." Twain's deep British baritone chased away the winter chill. He was one of the most handsome black men I had ever met, a mature version of Tyson Beckford.
As always Twain looked very chic, the epitome of casual elegance. A cashmere cloak rested stylishly on his broad shoulders and a fringed, silk scarf was draped loosely around his neck.
We hugged and I gave him a friendly peck on the cheek. "You look smashing," I intoned in my best possible English accent. Twain smoothed my cheek with the back of his fingers. He smiled warmly—looking positively doe-eyed. "How wonderful to see you."
And you... Twain cut such a dashing figure. It was a good thing I had Lido in my life tugging at my heartstrings. Twain tugged at me too, but not at my heart.
"Here to see Ricky?"
He shot his cuffs, clearing a handsome Bulgari watch and checked the time. "Johnny on the spot," he replied as he tapped the crystal. '"Home Improvement' just went off. Your brother will be in a wonderful mood—situation comedy and rehabilitative therapy followed by dinner. What could be better?"
"Sounds like a plan." We grinned at each other. Ricky had been found out, that and his passion for buxom, bleached-blonde women wearing tool belts. "Men are so painfully transparent."
"Guilty as charged," Twain conceded. He smiled warmly. "I accept responsibility for the entire species." The elevator arrived. Chivalrous to a fault, Twain held the door for me while I got in. The doors closed and up we went. "We're hopeless, aren't we? It is rather romantic when you take a moment to consider though, isn't it?"
"What is?"
"All this evolution—computers, aerospace, genetic engineering, and still man devotes the bulk of his brain power to thinking about getting laid. Is it our fault we find women so positively alluring?"
It wasn't the time or the place for confession, but I'd devoted my fair share of brain power to the opposite sex. It was getting unbearably warm in the elevator. "I hope you'll stay for dinner. Ma's making veal spedini ." It was a clumsy segue but one that was necessary. Could you imagine if the elevator stopped? I didn't give myself three minutes. Like I said, Twain pushed all the right buttons.
He unwrapped his scarf and took off his coat. He was wearing a merino turtleneck that accentuated the contours of his formidable physique. I felt my lungs filling with air—usually a prelude to subtle chest heaving. I caught myself. This was not the time or place to ignite a spark. Under the right circumstances, Twain and I were as combustible as seasoned kindling wood. I didn't want to go up in a ball of flames in front of Ma and Ricky. I averted my eyes, wondering if Twain noticed that I had done so intentionally.
Twain cleared his throat. "Ricky's making some lovely progress. He's growing stronger on an emotional level every day."
I looked at Twain in fond admiration. He was my dark sentinel, a friend I had learned I could always count on. "That's great news." I said this despite the fact that I knew that Ricky was still several pine trees short of a forest. Forgive me, Anne Robinson. "You've done wonders with him. You're a good friend, Nigel." He blushed from the compliment.
Ma's door was unlocked. I knocked and then pushed it open.
Ma raced out of the kitchen. "Hello, sweetheart." It was good to see her out of a housecoat. She was wearing tan slacks and a loose fitting seed stitch sweater with a fresh gravy stain on the sleeve. We kissed and then stepped apart.
"Good security, Ma," I said, motioning to the unlocked door.
"Bah." She dismissed me with a wave of her hand. "I just unlocked it. Besides," she continued with a smile, "I got a man in the house." She focused on Dr. Twain. "Doctor, please come in. Give me your coat." She leaned forward, kissing his cheek and taking his coat in one
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