Free The Australian by Diana Palmer Page B

impulsive, darling.”
    “Stop worrying,” Priss chided. She got up and kissed Margaret’s wrinkled cheek. “Everything will be fine. And I’ll pay you something every week out of my allowance for the dress,” she added softly.
    “It’s not the money,” Margaret denied. She touched Priss’s shoulder affectionately. “I’ll make you a wedding present of it. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
    Cold chills worked their way down Priss’s backbone, but she hid her anxiety well. “Now stop that,” she said. “John would never let me down. He wouldn’t have proposed unless he meant it; unless he loved me. Now let’s have some lunch. I’m starved!”
    Margaret’s eyes followed the graceful movement as Priss ran off toward the kitchen. Priss was such a child. She didn’t realize that often men thought with their glands more than with their brains. John’s hunger for Priss had been obvious, but Margaret wondered if it would fade with his absence from her. Perhaps he had just gotten caught up in Priss’s infatuation and had been trapped by his own desire for her. He might even now be looking for a way out of the engagement. That could very well be why he hadn’t contacted Priss. It was a disturbing thought, and Margaret was afraid for her niece if it was true.
    Meanwhile the seed of suspicion had been firmly planted in Priss’s mind, and it didn’t go away. When the days kept passing without word from John, she began to worry even more. And finally, just to ease her own silly suspicions, she gave in and called him. She had to be sure. Her grades were falling from the devastating effect of loving him. And even if she went back to Australia to marry him, she had every intention of finishing her education and getting her teaching degree.
    She waited until night, when the rates would be cheaper, and let the phone ring for a long time before he finally answered.
    “John?” she asked hesitantly.
    “Priss!” There was a long static pause. “Priscilla?”
    “Yes, it’s me,” she confirmed. She sat down in the chair beside the hall phone, gripping the receiver. Something was wrong—she could feel it. “John, are you okay?”
    She heard a snap and a click, like a lighter firing up. “I’m okay,” he said quietly. “How about you?”
    “I just miss you, that’s all,” she said. “I thought you’d call.”
    “I was going to, later tonight.”
    She stared at the cord. “How are things going over there?”
    There was another pause. “Fine,” he said curtly.
    “That’s nice. How’s your mother?”
    He sighed heavily. “She’s...doing very well. She’s gone to stay with her sister in California.”
    “California? She’ll enjoy visiting there.”
    “Yes.” He sounded exhausted.
    “How are you managing alone?” she teased.
    There was a pause again. “I’m...not alone.”
    “Are Randolph and Latrice visiting? I heard they had twins a year ago. Your brother must have his hands full,” she said softly. She knew Randy and Latrice quite well. They were frequent visitors at the Sterling Run.
    “It isn’t Randy.” There was a thud, as if he’d hit something. “I’ve got a woman here, if you want to know.”
    It was like being struck between the eyes with a hammer. The word echoed around in her head, ricocheting wildly. “A...cleaning woman?”
    He laughed coldly. “Now, you know better than that, don’t you?” he asked. “You said yourself, I’m passionate. And being around you was enough to drive any red-blooded man wild. I came back here aching like a boy, and Janie invited me over for dinner...” She heard the sigh. “Well, honey, you know what a dish she is. I couldn’t help myself. And afterward I asked her to move in.”
    Janie? Her eyes widened. Janie Weeks, the divorcée he’d been seen with before he flew to Hawaii? He’d said his seeing Janie didn’t concern her, but he’d never denied it. And he hadn’t spoken of love, either. Only of desire.
    She stared at the