Read Online Shadows of the Past by H.M. Ward, Stacey Mosteller - Free Book Online Page A

lack of reaction. "We need to educate you on the things to do in London, babe. You're a bloody awful visitor." I wave off her comments.  
    "Yeah, yeah, whatever. So what am I supposed to wear? Is this okay?” I show her my jeans and black tee.  
    Her eyes widen with surprise, and her mouth twists into a disgusted expression. "You are not wearing jeans to afternoon tea!" She rushes into my closet, pulling out clothes and shoving them back in when they aren't what she's looking for, muttering about Americans and their "awful taste in clothes." All I hear out of my closet is yucky sounds and ‘what were you thinking?’  
    "You call these trousers?" or "This blouse is horrible!"
    She finally comes out with a pair of black pants and a white shirt with purple piping on the collar.
    "Put these on, I'll be right back." Emily leaves the room, and I hurry to put the clothes on. I don't want to be naked when she gets back--at least I don't want my lower stomach showing. Clothed, my body passes for young and carefree, but without my clothes I can't hide the stretch marks growing twins left behind. A guy might not realize what that means in the heat of the moment, but she will.
    Emily returns with an emerald green cardigan and a pair of black ankle boots. She hands them to me, crossing her arms over her chest and impatiently tapping her foot while I finish dressing.  
    Glaring, she says, "Don't you dare wear a hoodie!" She grabs a gray peacoat from my closet and holds it out to help me put it on. A little scared of her now, I slip my arms in and spin around for her approval.  
    "Perfect. Now, you just need to do something about all that hair."  
    Once she's done torturing me, she lets me leave. No, really, she lets me leave. Emily may look like a soft-spoken socialite, but that idea of her couldn't be further from the truth. She scares me a little.  
    Even with Emily's help and lecture, I'm outside the entrance to Oliver’s hotel almost twenty minutes early, looking like a lovestruck schoolgirl.
    Just when I see the top of his head coming toward me behind a group of tourists, my phone rings. The display reads: UNKNOWN CALLER.
    Crap. How’d they find me again? I changed my number after Barkley smashed my phone. The calls became too frequent.  
    Wanting to silence it before Oliver gets here, I hover over the "DECLINE" button. Just as I go to press it, a guy walking past me bumps into my shoulder and I hit "ANSWER" instead. Crap. I can't just hang up; they'll call right back now that they know I'm here.
    "Hello?" My voice is suspicious, and I hope it's just a random telemarketer looking for someone other than me.
    "Hello. Is this Kayla O’Mally?" The male voice on the other end of the phone is American, and my heart stops for just a second. Thinking quickly, I try to adopt an English accent. Four years in Europe should make that easy, right? Wrong, so wrong.  
    "May I ask who's calling?" I cringe hearing my pitiful attempt at the accent, and the guy on the other end tries to muffle his laughter.
    "My name is Eric. Your mother—"  
    As soon as he mentions my mom I end the call. I don't know who he is, and I don't want to know what he has to tell me about my mother. I'm an awful daughter, but I just can't handle anything from home today.  
    It hasn't been long enough.
    "Kayla?" Startled, I drag my eyes away from the screen--where formerly unknown Eric is now calling me back--and see Oliver standing directly in front of me. My mind is reeling, and now I'm wondering if my mom is going to start calling this number, too.  
    Our eyes meet and he looks down at me, concern in his eyes as he says, "Are you all right? You're very pale."
    Great, twice in a row. He’s going to think I’m nuts. I know I'm sweating, and it feels like all the blood has drained from my face, but I still try to play it off.  
    "I'm fine." He doesn't look like he believes me, but he thankfully doesn't press.
    Instead, he gallantly offers me his arm and I