Free Ride the Thunder by Janet Dailey Page A

I’m sorry he didn’t say what time he’d be back. Was he expecting you?” He was good-looking in a clean-cut way, young, in his middle twenties.
    “No. I just dropped by to bring him this house-warming present for his new apartment.” Jordanna indicated the bulky gift in her arms and tipped her head to one side to study him with a straightforward boldness. “Who are you?”
    “I’m Mike Patterson.” There was a wary alertness in his returning look. “Hasn’t Christopher mentioned me?”
    Jordanna had become accustomed to people calling her brother by his given name. She and her father were the only ones that still used his nickname of Kit.
    “No, he hasn’t,” she admitted openly. “Should I know who you are? I’m sorry, but Kit doesn’t talk to me very much about his girls or his friends.”
    “I see.” A smooth mask seemed to slide over his expression. “I’ve moved in with Christopher to share the expenses on the apartment.”
    “I didn’t know.” Jordanna shrugged her ignorance aside with a casual laugh. “I haven’t talked to Kit in more than a week.” The gift was growing heavier bythe minute, despite the strength in her slender arms. “Do you mind if I come in?”
    “Sure.” He reacted swiftly, as if suddenly remembering his manners, and opened the door wide to admit her. He stepped forward, offering, “Let me carry that for you.”
    “No. That’s okay. I can manage it,” she insisted. He moved out of her way and Jordanna entered the apartment. “You can set it on the coffee table,” he told her.
    Stooping, she carefully placed it on the glass-topped table and straightened to look around the room. “This is nice.” As she pivoted to face her brother’s friend, her dark hair whirled about her shoulders, flaming with red highlights. “I haven’t seen it since Kit furnished it,” Jordanna explained. “Personally I prefer something more traditional and homey than all this modern chrome and glass, but Kit likes it. Do you?”
    “Yes.” He smiled and his eyes had the same indulgent look that Kit so often gave her.
    It irritated Jordanna. It made her feel like a child instead of a grown woman of twenty-four. Turning away, she held her temper. Her eyes, green flecks glittering in hazel pupils, fixed on the luxuriant potted tree by the window.
    “That’s a beautiful rubber plant. It must be your contribution to the apartment,” she guessed.
    “It is,” Mike Patterson admitted. “How did you know?”
    “It was easy,” Jordanna laughed in a warm, throaty sound. “Kit isn’t good with plants—or anything that has to do with nature as far as that goes.”
    “Can I get you anything?” Mike offered. “Coffee or a Coke? Or maybe you’d like a drink. I fix a mean margarita.”
    “No, thanks,” she glanced at the thin gold watch on her wrist. “I’d better be going.”
    “You’re welcome to wait for Christopher.” He seemed worried that his actions had given her the impression she should leave.
    “As you said, Kit didn’t say when he’d be back,” Jordanna reminded him. “And, my parents will be expecting me.” She moved toward the door with smooth, graceful strides.
    “He’ll be sorry he missed you.”
    She shrugged at that. Maybe if he had forgiven her, he would be. “Tell him I stopped and . . .” She opened the door and paused, “. . . I hope he likes the present. It was nice meeting you, Mike.”
    “Same here.”
    The shoulder strap of her purse slipped as she swung the door closed. Jordanna adjusted it and retraced her route down the long corridor.
    A half-hour later, Jordanna opened the door into the formal entryway of her parents’ penthouse apartment. The maid was arranging a bouquet of pink roses on the elaborate baroque rosewood table that occupied the center of the foyer.
    “Hello, Tessa. The flowers look beautiful, as usual.” Jordanna paused to admire the arrangement. “Are my parents back yet?”
    “Your mother returned an hour ago.