On The Edge
"WHERE IS SHE?" Adam Drake asked the minute Rebecca opened her front door.
She'd been expecting him for the past half hour. Heck, Becca had even raced to meet him at the front door of her home when she'd heard his car pull into the driveway. What she wasn't expect-ing—oh, no, what she absolutely did not expect—was what he looked like.
Holy crawdad, she thought, using Lindsey Drake's favorite expression, one she'd heard time and time again since the moment she'd offered to bring the little girl to her home rather than have the police take her to a shelter when they couldn't reach her father right away. She'd been expecting someone pudgy, maybe even short a few strands of hair. Someone who spent the weekends stroking his ego by lording it over other drivers whenever he won a race, maybe even someone who made a play for the trophy girls. But this man...this man looked like someone the trophy girls made a play for.
"Mr. Drake. Hi. I'm Rebecca—"
"Where is she?" he asked again, looking like he just might push past her if she didn't invite him in soon. Good heavens, her head didn't even reach his shoulders. ... read full excerpt from On the Edge ebook
