Read Volcano for Free Online

breeze cool her brow.
    He perched his hip against the railing and stared at her. “I feel as if I just fell off that turnip truck you mentioned and bumped my head in the process. Do you have any idea at all how beautiful you are like that? This is like a scene from one hell of a movie.”
    Startled, Penelope glanced at him. Big mistake. He’d removed his sunglasses, and intelligent blue eyes nearly fractured her already shaky composure. Beneath that droopy mustache, he almost looked serious, and the puzzlement in his expression did something to her already disturbed stomach. He scared her as much as the soldiers at the airport. At least, she thought it was fear raising goose bumps up and down her arms.
    â€œIt’s the setting.” She tried keeping her voice cool and collected, but the trembling had returned. She definitely needed food. “I assume something about the Garden of Eden must always tempt the human race. If you’re not going to shower yet, I think I will. I haven’t had anything to eat all day and I’m about to die.”
    â€œYou should have mentioned that earlier. They don’t dine here until seven. Unless you want to go back into Soufriere, you’ll have to settle for the basket of fruit inside.”
    Penelope stared at him in disbelief. No food? Surely she hadn’t heard him right. “There are supposed to be three restaurants on the grounds,” she informed him coldly.
    The teeth beneath that thick mustache gleamed white and strong. “The main dining room, the beach bar, and the grill. The last one closed at three. You can have afternoon tea at four, I suppose, if you’re into little snacky things.”
    Even little snacky things sounded good at this point. Stalking into the cottage, Penelope halted inside with a jolt of horror.
    The cottage was just one big room. With one big bed. The living area had two short willow couches padded with loose pillows, neither big enough for anyone but a child to sleep on. The walls consisted of wood louvers that could be lowered against rain, and little else. No privacy whatsoever except the wooded hillside beyond. Nowhere she could escape the big jerk who was no doubt grinning himself to death right this minute.
    He’d known this would happen. She could kill him. But not right now. Right now she would eat one of the strange fruits in the basket to prevent fainting from starvation. Then she would take a calming shower and plan her attack.
    Whatever the odd fruit she bit into was, it was juicy and sweet. Sipping her champagne and sucking on the juicy meat, Penelope explored the bathing facilities. No bath. All right, she could survive that. She preferred showers anyway. This one was big enough for ten people. The bathroom had everything a woman could ask for, from makeup mirror to hair dryer. And a door she could close and lock—thank heavens for small favors.
    Setting her glass down on the vanity and washing off’ her hands, Penelope went in search of fresh clothing. Exhilaration unexpectedly swept through her, probably the result of champagne on an empty stomach. This was the most exotic place she’d ever seen. Champagne in midafternoon and tropical fruits for the asking, a view to die for, and the rest of the afternoon to relax and pull herself together. By the time she showered and had tea, she would know how to handle Mr. Football Player.
    Carrying her clean clothes into the bathroom, she firmly shut the door, then stripped to her camisole and panties before pulling back the shower curtain to warm up the water. A tarantula marched across the tiles in greeting.
    The last thin nerve holding her together snapped.
    Screaming, Penelope jerked back the curtain, dashed for her toiletry bag, and whipped out a tiny can of hair spray. Hysterically, she aimed at the unseen creature behind the curtain, then screamed again as eight heavy legs inched over the tile ridge from shower to floor. It hung there