Crystal Warrior: Through All Eternity (Atlantean Crystal Saga Book 1) Read Online Free

was sticking around I'd get Case to design one for me. I can't believe that man.’
    ‘He only drew the idea. An architect drafted the plans.’
    ‘Even so,’ Fran mused as she looked about her, ‘I'm impressed. What're you doing with the floor in the kitchen?’
    ‘Arguing.’
    Fran's laughter, golden bright like herself, ribboned into the steam as she stepped into the spa. She refilled Georgina's glass from the wine bottle then settled herself in the water.
    ‘You never used to argue. I had the ideas and you agreed! I think I need to explain a thing or two to your Gould.’
    Georgina grinned and relaxed a little.
    ‘I'm not quite as compliant as I used to be.’
    ‘Mmm. I did notice that,’ Fran commented, giving her sister a long, contemplative look. ‘Comes from being your own boss, I guess.’ She leaned across to clink her glass with Georgina's. ‘Cheers! Here's to success for both of us.’
    ‘Cheers—and welcome home.’
    They both sipped then Fran put her glass down and asked, ‘So what is it that's not happening in the kitchen?’
    ‘Tiles,’ Georgina said with a sigh, placing her glass beside Fran's. ‘When the house was first built I couldn't decide what I wanted on the floor in that kitchen-breakfast nook area so I just had it stained and done with polyurethane. Gould really liked that and his choice would be to put more and more coats of poly on it until it’s like a glass surface over the wood. But I want something—a bit more—that would give a flow-on effect into the small conservatory. I went to a `House and Home' expo and saw these terracotta tiles with small inserts of colored glazing, and loved them. Gould says we might as well rip up the floor and just have dirt. It'd be cheaper—and easier.’
    ‘Are you doing it yourselves?’
    Georgina picked up her glass and twirled it contemplatively.
    ‘I thought we might and Gould did agree since I was set on having it. But I'm beginning to think either he really doesn't like the idea of tiles or—he's just not the handyman type.’
    ‘Probably the latter,’ Fran stated knowingly.
    Georgina raised her brows questioningly at her sister.
    ‘It's obvious,’ she laughed, spreading her hands under the water. ‘The man's a writer! Writer's don't—lay tiles!’
    ‘Definitely not in my experience!’ growled a deep voice, and Torr, again ignoring the steps, vaulted up onto the patio and with only a brief glance at the two already in possession, stepped into the pool, settling himself on the submerged seat opposite. Fran immediately slid around until her body was snug against his and lifting an arm, he pulled her in closer. ‘She might lay me on the tiles but she refused point blank to have anything to do with the laying of the tiles themselves.’
    ‘Oh, very cute,’ Fran agreed with a hint of teasing sarcasm. ‘Actually George, Torr's the one to talk to about laying tiles. He's just re-done the main bathroom in his house. You know, the old Dower House? He's made a fabulous job.’
    Georgina was still a step back in the conversation, her imagination running riot with the vision of Torr making love on swathes of soft white towels on gleaming blue and white tiles—and the woman in the picture wasn't her sister. Gripping the stem of the glass, she forced her hand to remain steady while taking a sip of the wine and dragged her mind to what Fran had just been saying. The new image that came to mind was almost as dangerous as the last. Torr on his knees beside her laying tiles, conjured up images that had nothing to do with house decorating and everything to do with hurtling all her senses into overdrive.
    This was worse than when Gavin, Alan's son, had seduced her while his father lay near death. This time she hadn't the excuse of the emotional and physical exhaustion of hours sitting with her sick husband waiting for him to die. She was tired but couldn’t claim to be under any sort of stress. It was instead, she decided, a case of the