Free Present Danger by Susan Andersen Page A

pool of light.
    Aunie was sitting on the floor in front of the heat register. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, arms hugging her legs, and her forehead was pressed to her kneecaps. She was swaddled in a rose-colored woolen afghan.
    Concern written clearly on her face, Lola started to bend down. James neatly hipped her out of his way and squatted in front of Aunie. Ignoring theeyebrow Lola cocked at his cavalier treatment, he asked her gently, “What’s going on?”
    She didn’t answer or raise her head up off her knees. James reached out and stroked her hair. It flowed through his fingers like satin streamers. “Aunie? Lola said you got a phone call that upset you.”
    A sharp bark of bitter laughter into her woolly cocoon was his only reply.
    Christ, wasn’t she roasting in there? It must be eighty-five degrees in the living room. James shook his head sharply and told himself to concentrate on what was relevant. “Tell me about it. Tell me about the phone call.”
    Her head jerked up suddenly and James was unprepared for the unbridled hostility that met his gaze as she glared at him head-on. “Oh, you want to hear about my problems, Mistah Rydah? Is this the same man who said he’d stand back and wave my husband by when he showed up lookin’ for blood?”
    James’s expression froze. How the hell had they gotten back to this Mister Ryder shit? A fierce wave of reciprocal anger swept through him, and for a moment, he was tempted to turn her over to Lola, get up, and get the hell out of there. Yes, dammit, he was the same guy and he appreciated the reminder because, for a second there, he had almost forgotten. He didn’t need any additional problems. He had enough to do just trying to stay one step ahead of his brothers’ assorted troubles. She didn’t want him here? Fine. He’d just get the hell out of her way. He didn’t want to know why she was huddled in the dark in this vastly overheated room, anyway.
    His anger drained away as rapidly as it had surfaced. Ah, hell, who was he kidding? Yes, he did.
    “Tell me about the phone call, Aunie,” he repeated in a carefully neutral voice and Aunie’s face crumpled. Tears rose in her eyes.
    “He was acquitted,” she wailed and then her words all ran together, barely coherent. “Oh, God, James, I’m so scared. I thought he’d be put away for a long time—Jordan said he would—but he’s free, and if he finds me I know he’s gonna kill me this time. He’s so crazy and obsessed …”
    Elbows digging into her drawn-up knees, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed. James and Lola exchanged concerned, puzzled glances. “See what you can do,” Lola whispered. “I’ll make her some tea.” She left the room and James looked back at Aunie.
    Her afghan had slipped from her shoulders to pool around her hips in a delicately tinted puddle of wool, revealing the brown satin chemise she wore tucked into her jeans. For an instant, James was mesmerized by the gentle upper curves of her breasts, so white against the dark satin. Ever since his brother had made that crack out in the hall a couple of weeks ago, he had caught himself at odd moments wondering about the size of her breasts. Whenever he saw her she was invariably wearing a baggy sweatshirt or a thick sweater that hid her shape and made it impossible to tell what was underneath. But he could see now that her chest wasn’t as flat as Bob had decreed it to be. Oh, her breasts were petite, just like the rest of her, but there were definite curves there, sweet as honey.
    James shook his head impatiently, irritated with himself. What the hell was he doing? She was sitting there sobbing her eyes out after telling him that someone was going to kill her, and instead of finding outwhat the story was, he was satisfying a curiosity he had no business entertaining in the first place. You’re a deep guy, J.T.
    How the hell did he go about consoling a woman? He was accustomed to dealing with male problems, but he