How to Trap a Tycoon Elizabeth Bevarly (year 7 reading list txt) 📖

half hidden by the door she had tucked herself behind. Her breathing was much less rapid now, and her eyes were no longer darkened with fear. But her cheeks were stained with red, and the hand clutching the door was white-knuckled and trembling. She was still frightened, he thought. Maybe not of him, but of something that prevented her from seeing him the way he really was.

"Edie," he said again, curling his fingers into impotent fists at his sides.

She noted the gesture and arrowed her brows downward. Belatedly, Lucas realized how she must have misconstrued his actions. Immediately, he opened his hands again, but it was too late.

"Edie, please," he tried one last time. "Talk to me."

"Just go away, Lucas," she said, her voice thin and cold and much too empty. "Just leave me alone."

There was no rancor, no venom in her command. Just a simple request and a kind of sad resolution. Had Lucas suspected for a moment that he possessed a heart, Edie would have broken it right there. Good thing for him he was such a heartless sonofabitch. The realization, however, brought with it little comfort.

"Edie…"

"Good night, Lucas," she said as she pushed the front door closed. "And good-bye."

He said nothing more, knowing it would be fruitless at this point. In spite of her wishes, though, he knew it wasn't going to be a good night. And, as her front door clicked softly shut, he knew it wasn't going to be goodbye, either. Not yet. Not by a long shot.

Chapter 14

« ^ »

W hen Dorsey arrived at work late Monday afternoon, she sensed immediately that there was something very, very wrong. And not just because she'd managed to arrive early for a change, either. But as she changed into her bartender uniform and donned her wedding ring, as she stowed her backpack and teaching assistant clothes in her locker, she just sensed somehow that there was something … not right.

In spite of her misgivings, however, she completed her preparations and headed out to the bar and as always, saw all of Drake's regulars lined up in their usual spots. Likewise as always, Adam was already there waiting—watching—for her, with that secretive little smile playing about his lips that Dorsey had come to know and love so well. And as always, Edie stood chatting with Straight-Shot-of-Stoli. But not as always, the other bartender was looking rather morose.

"Hi," Dorsey greeted her as she slipped behind the bar. "You look kinda down. What's up?"

Edie shrugged without much concern and reached behind herself to tug at the strings on her apron. "I'm just not feeling all that great today, that's all."

Which was also totally out of character for Edie, because in all the time she'd worked at Drake's, Dorsey had never known the other bartender to be under the weather at all. Edie's sunny disposition and her a-smile-a-day outlook had always kept even the nastiest germs at bay. Certainly she'd never looked as beaten down as she did now. Her bright blue eyes had dimmed some and were smudged beneath with faint purple crescents. Her mouth was flattened into a tight, joyless line, and her skin seemed paler even than it had before. Her whole body, in fact, seemed more fragile, more limp. Worse than that, though, her spirit seemed almost empty.

Unsure why she did it, Dorsey turned to look at Straight-Shot—not in accusation, but to silently ask for his input on this odd matter of Edie's sudden sobriety. But all Straight-Shot did was shake his head slowly and turn his hands palm up in unspoken confusion.

So she turned back to Edie and asked softly, "Are you okay?"

Edie nodded in a very unconvincing way. "I'm fine," she said, likewise without conviction. Then she sighed with what sounded suspiciously like remorse. "It's just a visit from the seven PMS dwarfs, that's all," she added listlessly. "I'll be okay in a few days."

In spite of the other woman's clear dejection, Dorsey couldn't help but smile at that. "I probably shouldn't ask, but … the seven PMS dwarfs?"

Edie did, finally, offer up a small grin in response. "Yeah," she said. "The seven PMS dwarfs. You know Grumpy, Crampy, Moody, Bitchy, Hungry, Angry, and Doc. What? They never visit you from time to time?"

"Oh, yeah," Dorsey assured her with a chuckle, feeling a little better in light of Edie's—granted halfhearted—whimsy. "And not just when I'm PMS, either. But, gee, I've never seen the little buggers get you down like this before," she further observed.

Edie shrugged again, still fumbling with the ties on her apron, which had clearly tangled themselves into a knot. "It's just…" She sighed again. "I had to tell someone to leave me alone last weekend, that's all.

Dorsey nodded her understanding. "And he won't leave you alone, huh?"

"No, he has left me alone," Edie said unhappily as she fought more fiercely with the apron ties that wouldn't come free. "I haven't seen or heard from him all week."

"And that's a problem?" Dorsey asked, unable to mask her surprise. "I mean, I kind of thought you didn't like to be bothered by testosterone-driven individuals."

"I don't like being bothered by them," Edie agreed, increasing her efforts with the relentless apron ties. "I thought it would be good that this guy left me alone. But now it turns out that it's not so good. Now it turns out that it's pretty lousy. And I can't understand why it bothers me so much that he's left me alone. I can't understand why he's left me alone. I can't understand any of it."

With a snarl of frustration, Edie jerked on the uncooperative apron ties with such force that she completely ripped one from its mooring. And with a growl of discontent, she snatched the apron from over her head, wadded it up ruthlessly in both fists, and stuffed it maliciously into the linen bin. Then, when she realized how thoroughly she had lost control, she punctuated the episode with a viciously muttered, "Oh, hell."

Dorsey's eyebrows