Fortune's Proposal. Allison LeighЧитать онлайн книгу.
full heartbeat of silence followed his abrupt announcement.
Then J.R.’s smile became a little more broad, though Drew recognized the disbelief in his brother’s hazel eyes, as he turned his focus on Deanna. “Well, then,” J.R. said smoothly, “that sure does make up for the pipsqueak’s tardiness.” He reached out and took the tote bag that was slung over Deanna’s shoulder and wrapped his hand around her elbow, drawing her inside.
“Pip-squeak?” Deanna laughed a little and looked over her shoulder at Drew.
“Better than runt,” he muttered. “That’s what he used to call Darr.” Two years younger than Drew, Darr was the baby of the family. He was also a firefighter and could probably take them all down without breaking a sweat.
“You’re all still on the easy side of forty,” J.R. was saying, as he chuckled and wrapped an arm around Drew’s neck, hugging him hard. “So I’ll call you whatever the heck I want. Damn, it’s good to see you.” Just as abruptly, he was pushing Drew away and taking Deanna’s cumbersome suitcase. “Even if I was beginning to wonder if you were going to get here before dawn or not.”
He turned and headed barefoot along the distressed wood floor through the silent house. “Isabella stayed up for a while but finally bit the dust a few hours ago.” He looked over his shoulder at Deanna. “My wife.”
Deanna nodded. “Drew’s told me about her. I hope I’m not putting you out too badly. I warned Drew that he should have called ahead to let you know I was coming with him.”
“Don’t you worry any about that,” J.R. assured. “We’re glad to have you.” He grinned. “Particularly when you’re brave enough to take on our Andrew, there. And what’s better to have around for a wedding than more family? “
Drew could see the color come into her cheeks.
“You’re very gracious.”
“My wife would kick me otherwise,” J.R. assured. He turned down a hall. “Jeremy’s out for the count, too.” He jerked his chin. “He’s in that room there at the end of the hall. Got in yesterday.”
Deanna’s wide gaze was taking in the white plaster walls around them, which Drew knew were relatively fresh even if they did look authentic to the old house. “Is that one of your wife’s tapestries?” She pointed to a colorful weaving on one wall as they passed it. “Drew’s told me what a talented artist she is.”
J.R. nodded and the look of pride on his face was plain to see. “There’s not a corner of this place where she hasn’t made her mark,” he said before pushing open a door. “You’ll be in here.” He stepped aside and hopefully missed the panicked glance that Deanna threw in Drew’s direction as she entered the bedroom.
The most notable feature was the wide bed that took up a good portion of the space.
His damnable body stirred again and he felt heat start to climb up his neck when his gaze ran into J.R.’s. “Looks comfortable,” he said, ignoring the heat both in his neck and in his gut, and went into the room behind her.
He dropped his duffel and suit bag on the white comforter covering the bed and watched Deanna’s fingertips gently graze the petals of one of the roses clustered in a vase on the chest of drawers next to one of the windows. Her reflection jumped back at him from the big, heavily framed mirror that sat on the floor against the wall across from the bed. Next to that was a fireplace where logs were already placed, just waiting for a match.
Her auburn hair was tousled around her shoulders and her expression was almost unbearably soft as she touched the flowers.
He felt a bead of sweat angling down his spine. He shrugged out of the leather bomber jacket and pitched it across a chair in the corner that sat next to a small table with a reading lamp.
His brother had a faint smile on his lips as he ambled into the room after them. He set Deanna’s suitcase on the floor at the foot of the bed. “Bathroom’s attached through there,” he gestured. “Extra blankets and pillows are in the closet, there. If you need anything else, just yell.”
Drew figured that what Deanna needed was a separate bedroom, and was grateful as all get-out when she only smiled and quietly told his brother that everything was lovely and she was certain they’d be just fine.
“Right, then. See you at breakfast.” J.R. stepped out of the room. He grinned. “Or not.” He reached for the door and pulled it closed.
Alone, Deanna turned away from the pink roses and looked at Drew.
“I can’t help it,” he said in a low voice. “What do you want me to do? Tell him we don’t sleep together?”
She made a face. “He’d never believe you weren’t sleeping with any woman you brought with you, much less your own fiancée.”
He almost felt himself flush, which was stupid. He was no kid. Of course he had sex with the women he saw.
That was pretty much all he had with the women he saw. It wasn’t as if he was looking for a partner in life after all.
“Then I’ll sleep on the floor if it makes you feel better.”
“Not exactly comfy.” She tapped her soft-soled boot on the hardwood floor and let out a huge breath. “We’ll just have to make do with the bed.” She shook her head and looked away. “At least it’s huge,” she added. “You could sleep a family of five in that thing.”
It was definitely an exaggeration, but he let it pass. Because whatever she wanted to think, there would still only be the two of them on that soft-looking mattress.
And his imagination was becoming increasingly fertile.
Her hair would look like burning embers against that white, white comforter …
He cleared his throat a lot more easily than he did the images from his head. “It’s been a long night. You go ahead and—” he waved toward the bed “—you know, go to sleep. I’m still too keyed up anyway. I’m going to go find J.R.’s whiskey.”
The relief that filled her eyes would have been comical if it weren’t so deflating. Just because—at the moment—he was having a hard time remembering the purpose of their engagement didn’t mean that she was having the same problem.
“If you’re sure …” She left the words hanging and he made himself nod.
He needed to be remembering how she’d acted the last time he’d been uncontrolled enough to kiss her and not how she’d felt, pressed against him in the limo.
Then she’d been clearly appalled, and he knew to this day that the only reason she hadn’t quit on the spot was that she’d felt sorry for him because his mother had just died. That, and the fact that he’d sworn to her it would never happen again.
“Yeah,” he lied. “I’m sure. Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”
She looked at her watch. “Today will be a busy day, actually.”
“Right. Today.” He reached for the doorknob and quietly turned it. “Happy New Year, Dee.”
Deanna’s smile felt almost as shaky as her knees.
She knew it was best if he left for a little while, but a strong part of her wanted to ask him not to.
And that fact alone was reason enough to need some distance from her boss-slash-fiancé, even if it were only for a few minutes. So she kept the words to herself. “Happy New Year, Drew.”
And then he was stepping out of the room, closing the door silently behind him.
Once he was gone, Deanna’s smile died and she drew in a deep breath.
Without his intoxicating presence, the room felt as spacious as her common sense told her it actually was. It was only when she was closed in with him that it seemed as if the walls