Another Eden

274 Pages·2016·1.08 MB·English

by  Gaffney Patricia

Another Eden
By
Patricia Gaffney
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
EXTRAVAGANT PRAISE FOR PATRICIA GAFFNEY'S
HISTORICAL ROMANCES
LILY
"This one is a keeper!"
—Rendezvous
"A true classic!"
—Romantic Times
THIEF OF HEARTS
"A stunning gem of a book that establishes Patricia Gaffney as a star!"
—Romantic Times
"A knockout!"
—Nora Roberts
FORTUNE'S LADY
"Like moonspun magic… one of the best historical romances I have read
in a decade!"
—Cassie Edwards
SWEET TREASON
"A stunning debut. I foresee a shining future for this bright new star!"
—Romantic Times
Winner of the RWA Golden Heart Award!
ALL FOR LOVE
Alex whispered her name, and when his lips gently urged her, Sara
opened her mouth to him, submissive at first, then hungry. It amazed her
that they wanted the same things, that what gave him pleasure pleased her,
too. She had never been touched like this; her most womanly fantasies had
never taken her this far. The seductive lure of surrender beckoned from a
place inside she couldn't even recognize. Anything, she thought with the
part of her mind that could still think. Anything.
He deepened the kiss, deliberately drugging her, his hands slipping
down, down, caressing her throat and sliding lower, surrounding her
breasts. Her quickening pants lured him on. She was like a virgin, so
surprised at each sensation he gave to her. He felt himself spinning, dizzy,
speeding toward something beyond his control, but he couldn't let her go.
Other Leisure Books by Patricia Gaffney:
LILY
THIEF OF HEARTS
FORTUNE'S LADY
SWEET TREASON
LEISURE BOOK® April 2000
Copyright® 1992 by Patricia Gaffney
ISBN 0-8439-4800-0
This book is for Joem Gaffney. Thanks for lighting the fire, Mom, and
for aiding and abetting the dream.
Chapter One
Sherry's was crowded for a wet Thursday night. Alexander McKie
sipped rye whiskey and scanned the dining room with a practiced eye. The
attractive redhead at the banquette was watching him again. All he could
see of her escort was the back of his bald head. Alex stared back in friendly
appreciation until the girl looked down, trying not to smile, then up and
away again with a charming blush.
Cheered, Alex made an effort to pay closer attention to whatever Bennet
Cochrane was booming on about now. But a second later he found himself
surveying the room again, transfixed with boredom. Cochrane was an
imbecile. A gasbag, a flaming bore, a conversational bully. He was also the
most important client Alex had ever had, the man with the power to lift him
out of the anonymity of the drafting room and into a partnership, on the
strength of one enormous commission. What matter that the house he
wanted him to build was a joke, a monstrosity, a stone and marble palace of
stellar, unrivaled, spectacular bad taste? Right now, Alex was in no position
to choose his clients. Especially millionaire clients. But why did this one
have to be such a nincompoop? He glanced across the table at John Ogden,
his employer, who was clearing his throat and sending a warning signal
from behind the thick lenses of his steel pince-nez. Immediately Alex
straightened, sobered, and turned on Ben Cochrane a look of total
absorption.
"I'm not saying workers haven't got any rights at all. This is the 'nineties
—a decent wage for a decent day's work, that's fine with me. I'm talking
about the goddamn anarchists who want to blow us all to hell so they can
take over our factories and mills and railroads and banks."
Raps our women, sodomize our children, Alex added in silence,
desperate to amuse himself "You know what they want now, what they're
demanding these days?"
"Well, I've heard—"
"I'll tell you. Free love. Negro emancipation. Peace, temperance. Votes
for women." He glanced around the table, as if looking for something to
spit on. "There's a bunch of them trying to organize my bake shops right
now—socialists and communists, talking to my people at night, stirring
things up." He punched Alex's biceps with an angry forefinger. "I hear one
word about strike, I'll fire 'em all, I swear to God. I'll set the militia on 'em.
I'll set my own men on 'em."
"Bake shops," Alex said mildly, easing back in his chair, out of reach. "I
thought meatpacking was your game, Ben."
Immediately Cochrane mellowed; talking about himself always seemed
to soothe him. "That's some of what I do," he explained, smug in his self-
importance. "That's what I do in Chicago and St. Louis."
"Aha."
"Here in New York I do other things. A little of this, a little of that. Real
estate, mostly. Banking, a little insurance."
"And bakeshops."
"Bakeshops, caskets, restaurant supplies. Asphalt. A little of this—"
"A little of that." Alex signaled the waiter for another drink.
Ogden cleared his throat again. "How did you get started in business,
Ben? Are you a native Chicagoan?"