Read Forever Spring for Free Online Page B

again.
    “We may as well finish it,” he said, pouring the last of the chardonnay into his glass. Cradling the glass, Paul leaned back in his chair. He sat bolt upright again as a gust of wind rattled the panes in the long windows in the bowed alcove. The wind made a low, moaning sound as it whipped around the house. Paul frowned. “Storm brewing?”
    Karen nodded. “I heard a weather report while I was finishing dinner. There’s a storm moving up the coast. It could be messy.”
    “Messy?” Paul glanced at the windows as another blast of wind slammed into them. “In what way?” “Thunder, lightning, rain, the possibility of sleet and/or snow. Gale warnings have been posted and high tides predicted,” Karen said, repeating the forecast she’d heard earlier. “Surely you felt the temperature dropping while we were on the beach?”
    Paul’s eyes narrowed as he nodded. At his back, the wind turned into a low roar. “The house is secured?” he asked sharply.
    Karen smiled. “Reasonably. There are a few things that need doing, but...” She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug.
    “What things?” Leaning forward, Paul set his wine on the table.
    “A couple of shutters on the second floor are loose,” she said, annoyed. “And the storm doors must be hung.”
    “Why haven’t these things been done?”
    His imperious tone changed her annoyance to anger, and she bristled inwardly. Who did he think he was, anyway? And why was he ruining the easy camaraderie between them? Strangely hurt, but trying to control her temper, Karen replied evenly. “I called the man who does the work for me, but he has a long waiting list. I must wait my turn.” A mocking smile shadowed her soft lips. “The house has withstood over a hundred years of storms. It won’t blow away, I assure you.”
    “I didn’t think it would,” he retorted. Lifting his glass, he leaned back again, his attitude one of supreme indifference to the racket outside. “But I don’t like leaving things unfinished.” Raising his glass, Paul sipped the wine appreciatively, looking for all the world like an indolent, refined aristocrat. “I’ll fix the shutters and hang the doors as soon as the storm wears itself out.”
    Karen stared at him in openmouthed amazement, stunned by the contrast between his appearance and his blandly voiced statement. Not even his efforts of that day had prepared her to hear him calmly offer to do the job of a handyman. “You?” she blurted out, unaware of the implied insult.
    A dry smile curved his lips. “Why not?” he inquired politely. “I believe my capabilities run to a hammer and a screwdriver as well as bed-making and kitchen duty.”
    Karen suddenly, inexplicably, felt every bit as rattled as the windows behind him. Paul had given her a gentle but unmistakable verbal smack. She felt both ashamed and embarrassed by her rudeness. She had leaped to conclusions based only on appearances, an error she rarely made. Her fingers plucked nervously at the woven place mat beneath her plate. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, glancing down and issuing a silent command to her fingers to be still. Paul’s reflexes were quicker than hers. Leaning forward, he stilled her fingers by covering them with his own.
    “Why are you suddenly shying away from me, Karen?” he asked, his voice so soft it felt like a caress.
    Her head jerked up. “I’m not!” she said, much too forcefully, her lips burning with the memory of his brief kiss.
    Paul’s dark eyes met her gaze. “Yes, you are,” he said. “And I know why.”
    She was suddenly hot, and cold, and breathless. Wanting to jump and run, but unable to move, Karen moved her head slowly back and forth, silently negating the known but unstated. She bit her lip to keep from crying out when his hand tightened around hers.
    “You know why, too.”
    “No.” Her voice was raspy, whispery, fearful. She didn’t want to Tiear it, didn’t want her feelings, her needs, put into