Free Chain of Love by Anne Stuart Page A

found his damnable hazel eyes staring down at her with a
    look of intense satisfaction.
    He looked infuriatingly calm and collected, but Cathy couldn’t help but notice his somewhat quickened breathing, and her yearning flesh had felt the
    imprint of his desire just moments before. He was scarcely as unmoved as he was striving to appear.
    But his control was certainly a great deal better than hers. A disturbingly pleased smile lit his mouth. “See you,” he said lightly, and headed
    back to the still waiting elevator. Whistling, damn his soul!
    She waited until the elevator had reached the bottom floor before she began to fumble through her purse for her key. Her hands were shaking so much she
    couldn’t make it work for precious moments. When the lock finally turned she stumbled into her darkened apartment, racing across the living room to
    the French windows, pushing aside the curtains to stare out into the street.
    Sin’s tall body emerged from the entrance and strode casually, almost jauntily to his car, apparently as unmoved by the last few minutes as she was
    devastated.
    As he opened the door to his car he hesitated for a moment, staring up at the darkened facade of the building. His eyes went unerringly to her windows, and
    in the bright streetlight she could see his strong white teeth flash in a grin. The same bright streetlight, she realized with belated mortification, that
    would doubtless illuminate her presence at the window, staring down at him like a lovestruck teenager. Quickly she let the curtain fall, moving away from
    the window as if she was burned.
    The open door let in the only light in the darkened apartment. As she moved across to close and lock it, she reached a stray hand to brush her still
    trembling lips. Never in her life had she been kissed like that. Greg hadn’t cared much for kisses, saving them for public occasions. Sin MacDonald
    had put more sexual energy, more sensuality and caring into that kiss than Greg had in the entire act of sex. If Sin’s mouth was that devastating,
    what would the rest of him be like?
    “Stop it!” she cried out loud, trying to wipe such disturbingly erotic thoughts from her mind. But a short while later, as she lay sleepless in
    bed, the thoughts returned, the feel of his body against hers, the imprint of his questing mouth on her comparatively virginal lips. It was a long, long
    time before she slept. And when she finally did, her dreams took up where Sin had left off that evening.

 
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    Chapter Eight
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    The shrill, insistent ringing of the telephone broke through the mists of sleep. Cathy fought the nagging sound valiantly, and then was suddenly,
    completely awake. Her digital clock winked back at her—seven thirty. Immediately Cathy’s thoughts flew to Sin, only to release them. Sin and
    Charles had left five days ago, were halfway to St. Alphonse by this time.
    Struggling to sit up, she glared at the phone by her bed.
    “Hello!” Cathy snapped into the receiver, giving in to its demands at last.
    “Cathy, thank God you decided to answer,” Meg’s voice came back over the line, blurred with worry. “I was afraid you might have
    unplugged the phone or something equally dismal.”
    “What’s wrong?” Alarm shot through her body. “Has anything happened to the boat?” Horrifying visions of Sin MacDonald sinking
    beneath the angry Atlantic had her heart pounding and her palms sweating.
    “The boat? Heavens, no. As far as I know, Sin and Charles are just fine. No, it’s Pops. He’s had another mild seizure.”
    Cathy didn’t waste time with amenities. “Where is he?”
    “At Littleton Hospital, but they’re only going to keep him overnight. It’s really not that bad, Cathy. They just want to watch him.
    Apparently whatever project he’s been working on has been much too stressful. And I doubt Georgia or Travis has done anything to help matters. They
    tend to nag at him, and you know how Pops hates nagging.”
    “Have you