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Back The Runaway Heiress Save as PDF
Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR MEG TILLY AND HER NOVELS
  3. TITLES BY MEG TILLY
  4. Dedication
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
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  25. 20
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  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  69. Excerpt from SOLACE ISLAND
  70. 1
  71. 2
  72. 3
  73. 4
  74. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  75. What’s next onyour reading list?

The door to his office swung open, and there she was, standing in the doorway. His angel. She looked worried, hurried toward him. “You’re pale,” she said, almost an accusation, as if she’d caught him trying to sneak an extra serving of banana custard. She moved to the bar and poured him a tumbler of water. “Take a sip,” she ordered, her two fingers now resting lightly against his carotid artery, her eyes on the lovely Cartier watch that he’d bought her to commemorate their tenth anniversary eighteen years ago. She had wept when she’d opened the box and had worn the watch every day since. He’d lost count of how many watchbands she had worn through.

Vicki frowned. “Your pulse is a little elevated.” She pulled open his desk drawer on the side. He missed the feeling of her cool fingers against his skin. “Wouldn’t hurt to take a baby aspirin.” She popped open the bottle and fished one out. “Open up,” she said, and then placed the aspirin under his tongue. He made a face. It was bitter but nothing he couldn’t bear. Just made a face because it always caused her to make soothing noises and gently ruffle what was left of his hair.

“I need you to—”

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “Wait till it’s dissolved.”

Suddenly impatient to get on with what needed to be done, he worked the bottom of his tongue against the pill and crunched the last vestiges of it.

“I need you to book—”

“Show me,” she said, crossing her arms to let him know she was taking no guff.

He opened his mouth, lifted his tongue. She nodded. “Vicki, I need you to book me transportation to”—he glanced down at the pad of paper he had scribbled notes on—“Solace Island. I need to leave as soon as possible.”

Vicki’s mouth tightened. “Do you really think it’s wise to travel? You clearly aren’t feeling well.”

“I don’t have a choice. Kevin Hawkins claims Sarah Rainsford was there. He’s put out a bulletin that will show up across all police jurisdictions with the license plate of the car she’s supposedly driving. If she is still alive, we need to get to her before he does.”

Vicki’s hand rose to her throat as if the collar of the rose silk blouse she wore had suddenly gotten too tight. “Good Lord.” Her eyes wide, mouth agape. She swallowed hard. Once. Twice. Then her lips firmed. Her spine straightened. “I’m coming with you,” she said, just as he had hoped she would. She turned without waiting for his answer and hurried through the door to her computer to book their trip.

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