Read Online When the Sun Goes Down by Gwynne Forster - Free Book Online Page A

fruitful results.” He held out his hand to her, saw that she was not going to take it, half smiled, spun around, and dashed up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.
    As she watched him bounding up those stairs, she told herself not to think about the man’s strength or his power and what it had potential for. Suck it up, kiddo, she told herself, and keep your head. He’s used to women falling all over him. She waited until he reached the top before she began the climb.
    He stood on the landing grinning down at her. “Come on. If you start to fly, I’ll bring you back down to earth.” Punching him out wouldn’t help, but she imagined how good doing so would make her feel.
    My Lord. Am I becoming violent? she asked herself, and suddenly laughter poured out of her.
    “What’s so funny?” he asked.
    “Me. I’m a regular riot.”
    When she reached the top step, he grabbed her left hand and pulled her to the landing. “We have another room to do, and I’m getting hungry. You don’t want to be around if I start to starve.”
    She knew he was making light of a situation that each of them refused to acknowledge, and if she hadn’t been so disgusted, she probably would have admired him for it. But he was no better a man than she was a woman. And she meant to make that clear to him before they left the house.
    “All right,” she said airily, “get out your microscope and let’s get to work.”
    “Right on, lady.”
    The two of them searched every place and every thing in the bedroom, from the carpet to the drapes, beneath the mattresses, and in every drawer. They took every item from the closets, examined them, and put them back. At twenty minutes past one, Carson stopped and looked at her. “I’m beginning to be starved. Let’s get something to eat. As soon as I wash my hands, I’m ready to go.”
    “I was starved an hour ago,” she said, and headed down the stairs. She washed her hands in the guest lavatory, combed her hair, and adjusted her clothing as best she could. The fit of her jeans suggested that she’d lost several pounds since she last put them on.
    “So what,” she said to herself. “They suit me .”
    She watched Carson trip down the stairs. If she wanted to act the fool, what more pleasing target could she pick?
    “Like what you see?” he asked as he reached the floor.
    “I’m not sure. I’ll think about it and let you know.”
    He put a finger at her elbow and ushered her out the door. “You’ll think about it all right, but that will be the end of it. I’ve got time for a crab sandwich but not at an upscale restaurant like Frigate. What do you suggest?”
    “Franks, if you can stand paper napkins and a glass-top table without a tablecloth.”
    “I’m hungry enough to eat with no napkin. Let’s go.”
    An hour later, she didn’t remember what she ate. The man bothered her. “You don’t have to take me home, Carson. I know you’re in a hurry.”
    “I’ve got my first time to go to a woman’s house for her, spend time with her, and not see her safely home.”
    He drove to the building in which Gunther lived and walked with her to the door of the apartment. “When are you going back to Fort Lauderdale?”
    “Thursday morning. I’m scheduled to join a cruise to Central America, but if you need me, I’ll be back here late next week.”
    “I didn’t have the hunt for the will in mind.”
    “What did you have in mind?” she asked him as her nerves began to battle with each other.
    “I want to spend a pleasant evening with you when we’re not lifting furniture, rolling carpets, and creating a lot of dust.”
    “I see. Unless my boss thinks otherwise, I’ll be back here Thursday afternoon.”
    “Shirley, I like things cut-and-dried. May I call you here Thursday evening?”
    “Yes. I ... uh ... I’ll look forward to that.”
    “Thanks for that tiny bit of encouragement. And thanks for your help today. You’re a real trouper. Until Thursday next week.”
    He