Free The Long Road Home by H. D. Thomson Page B

possible, no matter how unpleasant the means. “Not a one.”
    She opened her door, but paused on the threshold. John’s large hand cupped the small of Vivian’s back, guiding her down the walkway to their room. Such a protective and possessive gesture didn’t disturb Clarisse. Not in the least. It couldn’t, because that would mean she cared.
    She shut the door behind her and looked around. Landscape prints hung on the beige walls. The carpet, threadbare by the front door and bathroom entrance was a darker hue of beige, while the table and chairs in the corner involved yet another shade. The only relief from the pallid color was a brown bedspread covering the queen-sized bed in the center of the room. Not exactly premier accommodations, but it would do. Especially when the room had a ceiling fan.
    She turned the fan on and basked under the whirling blades, pulling her hair back from her shoulders so the cool air could reach her damp skin. Absolute heaven. All she needed now was a drink with heaps of ice.
    After using the restroom and quickly running a damp cloth over her face, she left her room with an ice bucket. The vending machines were tucked away in an alcove. To the right of the machines, three walls painted with palms and vibrant flowers enclosed a rectangular pool. She spied John and Vivian swimming and stiffened. There was no getting rid of them!
    Amid the laughter and splashing from the pool, someone called her name. She hesitated, loathing the idea of socializing with the couple, then continued across the cool deck.
    “Hey, Clarisse!”
    “Oh hell,” she muttered, veering over to the pool. She might as well go over and talk to them and get it over with. Then she could enjoy her company for the rest of the evening.
    Vivian hung on the side of the pool, a relaxed smile on her face. “The water is absolutely gorgeous. You’ve got to try it.”
    Clarisse returned the smile with a guarded one of her own. “I don’t think so.”
    John’s strong-limbed body speared through the water and came up beside Vivian. Shaking his head, he splashed droplets by Clarisse’s feet. His teeth flashed white against his tanned skin. He looked too damned handsome and virile. Why couldn’t he look like a troll or something equally repugnant? A gargoyle would be fitting or what about something even more hideous? It would be so much easier for her piece of mind. That way she wouldn’t be constantly reminded of this physical attraction she had for him.
    “Clarisse, grab a suit and jump in.” Pleasure gleamed in his eyes and deepened the corners around his eyes.
    “Maybe another time.” She shifted.
    “It’ll clear the cobwebs from your mind.”
    Not pleased where the conversation was headed, Clarisse’s smile froze. “I don’t have a suit.” She’d thrown all of them out in a temper when she had come home from the hospital. Granted a childish act, but at the time she hadn’t been feeling like a rational adult. Months after the crash she had been under a huge tidal wave of self-pity. No matter how hard she had tried to swim afloat, it had engulfed her, almost drowning her with its power.
    “Vivian’s got an extra, isn’t that right, Viv?”
    The redhead didn’t look pleased with the question, though she answered pleasantly enough. “Sure. It might be a little tight in places.”
    “I don’t think so.” Conscious of their eyes sliding over her body, she brushed her hip absently, searching for an excuse, anything to change the topic. “I need an early night. I’ve got a headache.”
    “I think John’s got a bottle of aspirin somewhere.” Vivian glided up the steps to the pool deck. The emerald French cut bikini enhanced the redhead’s stunning figure. A group of teen-aged boys ogled her. Two middle-aged men on the other side of the pool stopped talking and stared as she walked over to a lounge and grabbed her towel.
    Clarisse watched Vivian recline on the chaise and stretch her long, elegant legs out.