Read Online Storm Over the Lake by Diana Palmer - Free Book Online

take me to a waterfall, because I’ll scream when I hear the water?” She laughed shakily. “Right after it happened, I couldn’t take a bath, do you know, becausethe water sounded…God, I can’t! I can’t think about it, please…please, let’s get to work, please…”
    He drew her gently against him, his arms swallowing her up, warm and powerful and almost tender. “Tell me about it. Tell me everything you remember.”
    â€œI…I can’t…bear to remember!” she wept, shuddering.
    â€œUntil you let it out,” he said quietly, “it’s going to haunt you like a ghost. Meredith, you don’t face problems by running from them, haven’t you learned that in your young life?”
    She lifted her face to his. “I don’t run from much, Mr. Devereaux,” she reminded him proudly.
    A wisp of a smile curved his broad, hard mouth. “Don’t you, Persephone?”
    â€œIf I have to qualify it, only from devils,” she replied.
    â€œDeh-vuls, did you say?” he asked, his eyes dark and laughing.
    â€œYou needn’t make fun of my accent,” she returned. “You have one of your own!”
    â€œMe?” He scoffed at that. “Not a trace.”
    â€œSay card. Go ahead, I dare you,” she challenged, the flood forgotten in the business of arguing with her dark enemy.
    â€œCard,” he said, lifting his head arrogantly.
    â€œAha, you see?!” she burst out, her eyes gleaming with laughter, her small hands pressing quickly against his broad chest.
    â€œSee what?” he asked.
    â€œYou say ‘cahd’,” she explained impatiently.
    He chuckled softly. His dark eyes traced the lines of her cheeks, her mouth, her nose. “You’d rather fight me than eat, wouldn’t you?” he asked deeply. “I liked that about you three years ago, I recognized a kindred spirit. Do you believe in reincarnation, Meredith? That we take an instant like, or dislike, to a stranger because we knew him or her in another lifetime?”
    â€œI don’t know,” she admitted. “Somepeople…some places…it’s like going home when you’re around them.”
    â€œIsn’t it, though?” he asked in a soft, low tone.
    She felt her pulse race at the look in his dark eyes and abruptly turned away. “I’ll get my pad.”
    â€œDo that,” he said with a lightning change back to his normal curtness. “I could use a few hours sleep. These damned cross-country jaunts are getting to me.”
    â€œOld age creeping up?” She couldn’t resist it, darting a glance at him from under her lashes.
    His bold, slow eyes touched her from head to toe.
    â€œCome upstairs with me, you impudent little taffy cat, and I’ll show you how old I am,” he replied in a tone that brought the blood burning into her cheeks.
    â€œUh…I’m ready when you are,” she said, side-stepping the innuendo as she dropped into the chair at his desk with her steno pad in her lap and her pen ready.
    â€œOh?” Both dark eyebrows went upand she felt herself cringing in the chair as what she’d said echoed in her mind. “A Freudian slip?”
    With a glimmer of the old Dana Meredith, she peeked under the hem of her skirt and shook her head. “Nylon,” she corrected.
    He threw back his head and laughed like the devil he was, and she couldn’t bite back a giggle of her own. The years and arguments and bitterness fell away, and she was his secretary and he was her boss, and it was like the sun coming up in the morning.
    â€œShut up and write, you little monster,” he chuckled. “Ready? Production figures on the cutting room…”
    Â 
    She lay awake for a long time, watching the moon-washed pattern of leaves dance on the coverlet of her bed. If she’d had anything to make her sleep, she’d have taken it. The movie