Silver Falls by Anne Stuart Page A

furious.
    â€œOphelia was around Juliet’s age—fifteen or sixteen. I believe you’re well past that.”
    â€œFuck you. Maybe I’ll push you into the falls just for the hell of it. Even if you aren’t the serial killer, you’re no great gift to society. My husband would probably thank me.”
    â€œYes,” he said, amused. “He probably would.” He spread his arms out. “Give it your best shot.”
    The last thing she wanted to do was put herhands on him. “I’m not going to bother. Sooner or later some irate husband will blow a hole in you.”
    â€œThe only married woman I’m interested in is you.”
    She froze. He was looking at her out of those sharp, dark eyes, and illogical as it was, she believed him. She just wasn’t sure why.
    The rain had stopped, at least for the moment, and she looked at the path she’d used. If she hurried, she might make it in time, without subjecting herself to any more time in Caleb Middleton’s uncomfortable presence.
    But she couldn’t put Sophie at risk. “Stop talking and show me where your car is,” she said, keeping her voice clipped and unemotional.
    The faint hint of a smile played at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, ma’am. Follow me.” He disappeared into the woods, and she hesitated. He disturbed her, on every level, and willingly putting herself in his company felt like a very bad idea. The only thing worse was having Sophie get tired of waiting and walk home.
    She started after him, pushing past the wet branches, following him down the steep, muddy path. She slid once, landing on her butt, and he glanced back at her but didn’t slow down. She got to her feet once more and hurried on, trying to keep him in sight without getting too close.
    Her first image of the house was the bright blue of the tarp covering the half-finished roof. The trees had grown up all around it, and she could see lines and angles, oddly familiar. It was more of a ruin than a half-finished house, and yet she couldn’t rid herself of a feeling that she’d been there before.
    â€œLovely,” she said in an undertone. “Do you even have a telephone?” Maybe she could call home when she got there, see if David could pick Sophie up. Except then she’d have to explain where she was, and who she was with. That, or lie, and neither of those choices was acceptable. There was nothing wrong with what she was doing—she just didn’t feel like having to explain it to David.
    â€œOf course I do.”
    â€œWhere’s your car?” she said when she reached the level ground. She stared up at the house. There was a long series of rickety-looking steps leading up to the front door, and there were two wings spreading out from either side. Eerily like David’s house, which she still couldn’t think of as her own.
    He was already halfway up the steps. “Around back. It’s a rental, and I’m not about to let a mud rat in it. Come inside, Rachel. I promise I won’t strangle you.”
    She didn’t move. “Don’t you think that’s a little tasteless?”
    â€œI’ve never been troubled by matters of taste, and if my intended victim were a yappy broad like you the first thing I’d do is shut you up. Either come in and clean off or get down the mountain on your own. I’m getting tired of all this.”
    â€œYou’re a son of a bitch, aren’t you?”
    â€œYes.” He kept climbing the stairs, and she had two choices. Make it on her own, and go with him.
    He was arrogant, dangerous, rude and much too good-looking for her peace of mind. She liked gentle men like David, not bastards like his brother.
    She looked up at the half-finished, prairie-style house, and she had the odd feeling that she was at the point of no return.
    She put her foot on the first step and began climbing.
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    He whistled beneath his breath as he