Free Storm Over the Lake by Diana Palmer Page A

need to see about…about reservations and…”
    â€œNice try, honey,” he said coolly, “but it’s a little trite. No, Persephone, you’re not going to Miami to see your lover just yet. I’ve got plans for you.”
    He turned away and started into his den. “It’s the truth!” she cried, her white face as chalk. “Oh, God, I’m not lying. You’ve got to believe me. I’m telling you the truth!”
    â€œIt would be a famous first,” he said carelessly, not even slowing down as he went through the door. “Coming from you, the truth would be worthy of a celebration.”
    â€œShe may die!” she wept, the tears streaming down her face. “I have to go!”
    His dark eyes met hers, and she’d neverseen them so cruel. “Then I’ll let you go to the funeral. Get to work, Meredith, I don’t pay you for cheap hysterics. You aren’t going to escape me that easily.”
    With a broken sob, she turned and ran into the library, locking the door after her. What could she do? Run away? She didn’t have the air fare, he hadn’t paid her, and her bank account was almost bare. She pushed the wild hair away from her eyes and studied the phone on the writing table. Jack. She could call Jack and have him call Adrian…A long shot, but worth a try, she had to go, she had to!
    She picked up the receiver with trembling hands and dialed the number direct, her nerves screaming as she waited for the call to be transferred to the newsroom, and then waited for Jack to answer. It seemed to take forever.
    An eternity later, Jack’s deep voice came on the line. “Hello?”
    â€œJack…” her voice broke and she struggled to get it back. “Jack, I’ve got a…a problem and I need help. My…Mr. Devereaux won’t listen, he thinks I’m lying…oh my God, please…Jack, talk to him, please talk to him. I’ve got to go to Miami!!” A sob shook her slender body, ending on a gasp of pure anguish. “Please, please…!”
    â€œI’m here,” said a voice on the extension, deep and utterly quiet. “That you, Jack? What the hell’s going on?”
    She heard Jack explaining through a fog of emotion. Gently, she hung the phone up and sat down in the chair at the writing table with her face in her hands, weeping as if her heart would break.
    Minutes later she heard the doorknob rattle. “Dana, open the door.”
    She was spurred into motion by the authority in that deep, strange voice. She opened the door, but looked no higher than his white crisp collar.
    â€œI’ll…pay you…back for the call,” she managed brokenly.
    His big hands caught in her hair, pulling her face against him. His broad chest rose and fell in a hard, heavy sigh. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” he whispered gruffly.
    The words shocked her. She’d neverheard him apologize for anything, not ever. “I…I want to go home,” she choked.
    He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and tilted her face up to his so he could wipe away the tears.
    â€œGo upstairs and pack what you need for a few days,” he said gently. “I’ll call and make the reservations. Are you all right?”
    She barely registered the concern in his dark eyes, the tenderness in the big hand that was mopping up her face. “I’m fine.”
    â€œLike hell you are,” he replied. “Wash your face. It’ll help. Can you be ready in thirty minutes?”
    She nodded.
    â€œMove, Persephone.”
    She went up the stairs with his handkerchief clutched in her nerveless fingers. Packing took only minutes. She hardly saw what she was doing, and it was only due to Lillian’s sudden appearance that any shoes, stockings or nightclothes were included. The older woman helped her gather everything together and then led herdownstairs with a comforting arm around her thin