Donavan by Diana Palmer

By Diana Palmer

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Langley as she sat down with her tray. He gave her a glare that would have stopped traffic. He’d obviously just finished his meal. He was draining his coffee cup. Fay turned her chair so that she wasn’t looking directly at him and, with unsteady hands, took her food off the tray. “I told you yesterday,” Donavan said at her shoulder, “that I don’t like being chased. ” The whip of his voice cut. Not only that, it was loud enough to attract attention from other diners in the crowded room. Fay’s face went red as she glanced at him apprehensively, her green eyes huge as they met the fierce silvery glitter of his.

He lifted his chin and a different light came into the pale, silvery eyes. “And you think I’m safe,” he murmured. ” Her heart began to thud against her ribs. That was a very adult look in his eyes, and she noticed the corresponding drop of his voice into a silky, soft purr. Her lips parted as she let out the breath she was holding. “I hope I am,” she said after a minute. ” He smiled, and this time it was without mockery. “Good girl. ” she asked. He drained the whiskey glass. “Life is all lessons.

Well, things were going to change. Starting now. Donavan had fascinated her. She tingled, just remembering how he hadn’t even had to lift a hand in the bar to make the man who’d been worrying her back down. He was the stuff of which romantic fantasies were made. But he didn’t like rich women. It would be nice, she thought, if Donavan had fallen madly in love with her and started searching for her. That would be improbable, though, since he didn’t have a clue as to her real identity. She didn’t know his, either, come to think of it; all she knew was what he did for a living.

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