Read Online Touch the Horizon by Iris Johansen - Free Book Online

huge, age-silkened rosewood desk, where an IBM Selectric typewriter, several piles of paper, and a stack of books offered a surprisingly workmanlike contrast to the antique desk. There were plants and greenery everywhere, and one particularly lovely plant with exquisite white blooms stood tall and proud in a glossy ebony planter in the corner.
    “Sit down.” David gestured to a scarlet-cushioned cane chair. He was shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket as he strode swiftly across the room toward another carved door. “I’ll be with you in just a minute. I’ll order our dinner to be served here and get rid of all this sartorial glory.” He grimaced. “Karim likes us to dress for dinner, but it’s all a little too grand for a cowboy like me.”
    Billie gazed musingly at the intricate carving on the door even after it had closed behind him. Gardener, cowboy, friend of sheikhs and princes, Lisan. He was so many things, and wherever she turned a new facet was revealed. What would she discover next? Her gaze was drawn irresistibly toward those curiously workmanlike stacks of papers beside the typewriter and she found herself pulled across the room as if to a magnet.
    Manuscript pages, very professional, with “Bradford” and the page number neatly typed in the upper right-hand corner. Her lips curved in tender amusement. Another facet revealed. It appeared that David was an aspiring author. Then her smile faded as something tugged at her memory, and she reached slowly for one of the two leather-bound volumes that sat carelessly on the corner of the desk. It was lettered in gold, and she knew even before she saw the spine what the script would say. She had a well-thumbed paperback copy in her duffel in the jeep.
The Growing Season,
by David Bradford, an incredibly moving novel that had sent critics into ecstasies and was still on the best-seller list after nine months.
    “I’d like you to read it when you get the time,” David said quietly from the doorway. “A lot of me went into that book. I think you might get to know me a bit faster through it.” He was dressed in dark cords and was rolling up the sleeves of a soft cream shirt, which was left open to reveal the bronze column of his throat.
    “I already have,” Billie said huskily. “It’s the most beautiful book I’ve ever read.” She laughed shakily. “But you don’t need me to tell you that. The critics are calling it the book of the century, a classic. I’ve been haunting the bookstores for your second one.”
    “It came out four weeks ago,” David said carelessly. “My publisher says it’s doing better than the first one.”
    “That’s understandable.” Her fingers moved caressingly over the smooth leather spine. “Everyone wants to touch something special, even if it’s only for a moment.” Her eyes lifted to meet his across the room. “You spoke of giving gifts. I’d like to thank you for giving me this one. It could have been written for me personally.” She shrugged and tried to laugh. “I’m sure millions of people feel the same way. That’s probably why it’s going to be a classic.”
    “I don’t know about that,” David said, making a face. “I had no idea everybody would make such a fuss about it when I submitted it. I just wanted to tell a story and try to create something beautiful.” His expression became thoughtful. “I was restless and searching for something to do with my mind that would give me the same satisfaction I received from working with my plants.” There was a flicker of excitement in the depths of his eyes. “I found almost more than I had bargained for when I started to write. It’s like planting a brand-new garden with each story—plotting, then developing the characters, then nurturing and watching the story grow and blossom in your mind and then on the paper before you.” He shook his head and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, it’s all still new to me. I’m a little overenthusiastic.” He closed