Read Within Reach for Free Online Page B

turned off the car, she simply relinquished the taut hold she’d had on herself. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears, and unable to do anything else, she draped both hands over the steering wheel, dropped her head forward and cried.
     
     
     
    Michael Buchanan had quietly kept an eye on the Lindsay house since the day he had last seen Danica. Oh, yes, he knew who she was now. A quick call to the realtor had given him the identities not only of Danica’s husband but also of her father. A more lengthy call to his sister, Cilla, who lived and worked in Washington, had told him more. Anything else he learned had come from a study of newspaper microfilms on file at the public library.
    Danica Lindsay was very definitely off-limits. Not only was she married, but she was the daughter of a man his father had never seen eye to eye with.
    Still, he hadn’t been able to put from mind the image of her standing so alone on the sand. He hadn’t been able to forget the haunted look he had caught on her face before she composed herself. The realtor, his sister, the papers, had given him biographical facts. What they hadn’t touched on was whether she was happy.
    And he cared. Something had happened that morning on the beach, and he couldn’t turn his back on it.
    Okay, fine. So he couldn’t court her as he would have liked. But she was going to be his neighbor for whatever period of time she chose to spend in Maine. And he intended to be her friend.
    For a while all he had seen when he passed her house had been pick-up trucks and vans in the driveway. Lately, though, they had been there less often. Today there were none.
    But there was a car, and on sheer instinct he knew it was hers. It fit her…a silver Audi coupe…classy, sporty but dignified. He saw the red brake lights go off and he knew she was in the car. At the end of her driveway he pulled up and watched, unable to see much more than a shadow in the driver’s seat. When the shadow seemed to wither into itself, he frowned. Then, driven as much by confusion as by concern, he climbed from his Blazer and walked up the drive.
    The morning’s brightness was his ally. With each step he took, the shadow in the front seat of the Audi took on greater color and form. Danica. Wrists dangling over the top of the steering wheel. Blond head fallen against her arms. Shoulders quaking.
    He picked up his step, trotting the last few yards, then, as softly as his thudding heart would allow, tapped two fingers against her window.
    She looked up with a start and he saw her tears.
    He felt a tightening inside. He tried to open the car door, but it was locked from the inside and Danica had put her head back down on her arms. She was frightened. No, embarrassed. But he didn’t want her to hide. Not from him.
    Again he rapped softly on the window. “Danica? Are you all right?” Her shoulders lifted. She seemed to be trying to get control of herself. Either that or she was crying all the harder. He didn’t know which and spoke with a hint of panic. “Open the door, Danica.”
    Blotting her eyes with one hand, she opened the door with the other. Taking a shuddering breath, she laid her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes.
    Michael pulled the door open all the way and hunkered down. “What’s wrong?”
    She squeezed her eyes shut and furrowed her brow as if she were in pain.
    “Are you sick?”
    She shook her head and held up a hand. “Give me a minute.”
    On instinct he lifted his hand and closed it around hers. Her fingers curled around his thumb and held tight.
    He spoke very softly. “Right about now I think I’m supposed to whip a neatly folded handkerchief out of my pocket to give you. At least that’s what a real gentleman would do.” He stuck his hand in his jacket pocket and, even as he drew out a crumpled super-market check-out slip, knew there was no point in looking further. He had never been one for neatly folded handkerchiefs. “Guess I’d strike out as a