blurt out her thoughts without editing them first, and this had definitely been one of those times. And her words had been like throwing a red flag in front of a bull. If she hadn't left the room, she and Dylan would probably be rolling around in the sheets right now. That thought gave her libido a nice little jolt.
Despite the fact that she'd told Dylan she thought sex was easy, she knew that sex with Dylan would be anything but easy. He would ask too much of her. He
would demand more than she wanted to give.
So she would keep her distance—until she couldn't.
Continuing down the path, she focused her mind on Erica. She'd barely looked at her the night before, but the woman's image was ingrained in her brain. Why had Erica lured Dylan out to these woods? Had she wanted to get him away from the lodge so she could fake her disappearance? Her public appearance in the bar had certainly set the stage for everyone to see her leaving with Dylan.
When the concrete walkway ended, Catherine continued into the woods. Dylan said they'd walked a fair distance from the lodge, so she would keep going, see what else was out here. The lodge and adjacent cabins were the only buildings on the hillside for at least a mile or two in either direction. Part of the appeal lay in the rustic nature of the location. The isolation had certainly made it easier for Erica to get Dylan into an area where no one would see what was going on. Perhaps that was why she hadn't gone to him in San Francisco and instead had waited for the opportunity to get him away from his home turf.
As she hiked Catherine began to grow warm, and she pushed the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows. The noonday sun was beaming down through the trees. It was a pretty day, the kind of day when summer seemed around the corner, a day when only good things should happen. But as she moved farther into the thick forest, she began to feel nervous. Was she picking up on what had occurred the day before, or were the sudden shadows sparking her active imagination?
The hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood up. She swung around quickly, expecting to see someone behind her. Had Dylan followed her?
There was no one, and yet she felt as if someone were watching her.
Every sound became acutely loud: the snap of a twig, a rustle in the brush, the sudden squawk of a bird overhead. They were all sounds of nature—or were they?
She put a hand on the trunk of a nearby tree to steady herself. It didn't help. Images flashed through her mind.
The ground was flying by at an amazing pace, as i she were running. She could hear the blood pounding through her veins. Her chest hurt more with each breath o air in the high altitude. She stumbled and ell to the ground, then scrambled back to her eet, desperate to get away. He was coming closer. . . .
But it wasn't her. Those weren't her shoes. And her hands . . . There was a ring on the finger of her right hand, a sparkling opal that was changing colors with the heat of her skin. Who was she? And who was she running from?
The sound of a horn startled her.
The images faded away. She was back to herself again. The sun seemed brighter. The shadows had lightened as well. Her heart began to slow down. The horn came again. Catherine moved closer to the edge of the cliff to investigate the noise. A sharp outcropping of rock fell down to the lake a few hundred yards below.
Two boats were anchored not far offshore. One bore the logo of the coast guard. Someone was in the water, a diver. He held up something red to show to another man on board. Her heart skipped a beat. She knew exactly what it was—Erica's red scarf, the scarf she'd seen around the pretty brunette's neck not only last night, but also in her vision.
Was there a body in the water, too?
Had Erica run through these woods, taken a misstep, and tumbled to her death off the side of the sheer cliff into the cold waters of Lake Tahoe? Or had she been pushed?
♥ Uploaded by Coral
Despite the fact that she'd told Dylan she thought sex was easy, she knew that sex with Dylan would be anything but easy. He would ask too much of her. He
would demand more than she wanted to give.
So she would keep her distance—until she couldn't.
Continuing down the path, she focused her mind on Erica. She'd barely looked at her the night before, but the woman's image was ingrained in her brain. Why had Erica lured Dylan out to these woods? Had she wanted to get him away from the lodge so she could fake her disappearance? Her public appearance in the bar had certainly set the stage for everyone to see her leaving with Dylan.
When the concrete walkway ended, Catherine continued into the woods. Dylan said they'd walked a fair distance from the lodge, so she would keep going, see what else was out here. The lodge and adjacent cabins were the only buildings on the hillside for at least a mile or two in either direction. Part of the appeal lay in the rustic nature of the location. The isolation had certainly made it easier for Erica to get Dylan into an area where no one would see what was going on. Perhaps that was why she hadn't gone to him in San Francisco and instead had waited for the opportunity to get him away from his home turf.
As she hiked Catherine began to grow warm, and she pushed the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows. The noonday sun was beaming down through the trees. It was a pretty day, the kind of day when summer seemed around the corner, a day when only good things should happen. But as she moved farther into the thick forest, she began to feel nervous. Was she picking up on what had occurred the day before, or were the sudden shadows sparking her active imagination?
The hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood up. She swung around quickly, expecting to see someone behind her. Had Dylan followed her?
There was no one, and yet she felt as if someone were watching her.
Every sound became acutely loud: the snap of a twig, a rustle in the brush, the sudden squawk of a bird overhead. They were all sounds of nature—or were they?
She put a hand on the trunk of a nearby tree to steady herself. It didn't help. Images flashed through her mind.
The ground was flying by at an amazing pace, as i she were running. She could hear the blood pounding through her veins. Her chest hurt more with each breath o air in the high altitude. She stumbled and ell to the ground, then scrambled back to her eet, desperate to get away. He was coming closer. . . .
But it wasn't her. Those weren't her shoes. And her hands . . . There was a ring on the finger of her right hand, a sparkling opal that was changing colors with the heat of her skin. Who was she? And who was she running from?
The sound of a horn startled her.
The images faded away. She was back to herself again. The sun seemed brighter. The shadows had lightened as well. Her heart began to slow down. The horn came again. Catherine moved closer to the edge of the cliff to investigate the noise. A sharp outcropping of rock fell down to the lake a few hundred yards below.
Two boats were anchored not far offshore. One bore the logo of the coast guard. Someone was in the water, a diver. He held up something red to show to another man on board. Her heart skipped a beat. She knew exactly what it was—Erica's red scarf, the scarf she'd seen around the pretty brunette's neck not only last night, but also in her vision.
Was there a body in the water, too?
Had Erica run through these woods, taken a misstep, and tumbled to her death off the side of the sheer cliff into the cold waters of Lake Tahoe? Or had she been pushed?
♥ Uploaded by Coral
Similar Books
