Read Online Sullivan's Woman by Nora Roberts - Free Book Online Page A

chin.
    â€œThe door’s been opened, Cassidy.” She frowned because his words reminded her of her earlier thoughts. “Better for you perhaps if we’d kept it locked.” He shook her once, rapidly. “Yes, it’s done. The door won’t stay closed now. It’ll happen again.” He released her, then stepped back, but their eyes remained joined. “Go on now, while I’m remembering you were frightened.”
    The strong temptation to step toward him alarmed her. In defense against it, she turned swiftly for the door. “Nine o’clock,” he said, and she turned with her hand on the knob.
    He stood in the room’s center, his thumbs hooked in his front pockets. The sun fell through the skylight, silhouetting his dark attraction. It occurred to Cassidy that if she were wise, she would walk out and never come back.
    â€œNot a coward, are you, Cass?” he taunted softly, as if stealing her thoughts from her brain.
    Cassidy tossed her head and snapped her spine straight. “Nine o’clock,” she stated coolly, then slammed the door behind her.

Chapter 4
    As the days passed, Cassidy found herself more at ease in the role of artist’s model. As for Colin himself, she felt it would be a rare thing for anyone to remain relaxed with him. His temperament was mercurial, with a wide range of degrees. Fury came easily to him, but Cassidy learned humor did as well. As she began to uncover different layers of the man, he became more fascinating.
    She justified her concentrated study of Colin Sullivan as a writer’s privilege. It was a personality like his—varied, unpredictable, bold—that she needed as grist for her profession. There was nothing between them, she told herself regularly, but an artistic exchange. She reminded herself that he hadn’t touched her again, except to set the pose, since the first day he had begun work on the canvas. The stormy kiss was a vivid memory, but only that . . . a memory.
    Sitting at her typewriter in her apartment, Cassidy told herself she was fortunate—fortunate to have a job that kept the wolf from the door, and fortunate that Colin Sullivan was absorbed in his work. Cassidy was honest enough to admit she was more than mildly attracted to him. It was much better, she mused, that he was capable of pouring himself into his work to the extent that he barely noticed she was flesh and blood.
Unless I move the pose.
She frowned at the reflection of her desk lamp in the window.
    Being attracted to him is perfectly natural, she decided. I’m not behaving like my predecessor with the milky skin and falling in love with him. I’m much too sensible.
Don’t be so smug
, a voice whispered inside her head. Cassidy’s frown became a scowl. I
am
sensible. I won’t make a fool of myself over Colin Sullivan. He has his art and his Gail Kingsley. I have my work. Cassidy glanced down at the blank sheet of paper in her typewriter and sighed. But he keeps interfering with it. No more, she vowed, then shifted in her seat until she was comfortably settled. I’m going to finish this chapter tonight without another thought of Sullivan.
    At once the keys on her typewriter began to clatter with the movement of her thoughts. Once begun, she became totally involved, lost in the characters of her own devising. The love scene developed on her pages as she unconsciously called on her own feelings for her words. The scene moved with the same lightning speed as had the embrace with Colin. Now Cassidy was in control, urging her characters toward each other, propelling their destinies. It was as she wanted, as she planned, and she never noticed the influence of the man she had vowed to think no more about. The scene was nearly finished when a knock sounded on her door. She swore in annoyance.
    â€œWho is it?” she called out and stopped typing in midsentence. She found it simpler to pick up her thoughts when