His Secret Son. Brenda JacksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
what branch of service they represented. It really didn’t matter. Whichever one branch it was, they were representing it well.
The group took the table not far away from where she sat and one of the men, as if he felt someone staring at him, glanced over at her. Bam! She’d been caught. She hadn’t averted her gaze back to her sketch pad quickly enough. For some reason, she knew without glancing back up that he was still looking at her. She could feel his gaze, just as if it was a physical caress. It made her heart beat faster. It seemed that every single hormone in her body had begun to sizzle. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before.
Okay, Bristol, concentrate on your sketch, she inwardly admonished herself. Her father hadn’t paid her tuition at one of the most prestigious art schools in France for her to get all hot and bothered by a bunch of military men. Although the five were extremely handsome, it was only one of the men who had caught her eye. The one who’d stared back at her.
“Excuse me, miss.”
She glanced up and the man was now standing at her table. Up close he was even more gorgeous. Definitely eye candy of the most delectable kind. Hot. Sexy. You name it and this man could definitely claim it. That had to be the reason intense heat was plowing up her spine.
Bristol swallowed deeply before saying, “Yes?”
“I was wondering if...”
When he didn’t finish but kept looking at her, she asked. “Wondering what?”
“If I could join you?”
She wished he could but unfortunately, he couldn’t. She glanced at her watch then back at him. “Sorry, but I work here and happen to be on my lunch break, which will end in less than five minutes.”
“What time do you get off today?”
She tilted her head to look at him. “Excuse me?”
“I asked what time you get off today. I’ll wait.”
She figured that he had to be kidding, but the look in his eyes showed that he wasn’t. “I get off in four hours.”
“I’ll wait. What’s your name?”
This guy was definitely moving fast. But she couldn’t ignore the scorching hot attraction between them, even if she wanted to. And for some reason, she didn’t want to. She liked it.
“My name is Bristol Lockett.”
“The name Bristol is unusual. It suits you well. I like it.”
And she liked his voice. It was deep and husky. The sound made heat curl inside her. OMG! What on earth was wrong with her? She’d never thought such outlandish things in her life. She might not have always been prim and proper but she’d been pretty close to it. She’d been in Paris close to four years and although she’d dated, most of the time she did not. She preferred curling up with her sketch pad and working on her watercolors than going out with any man. But now this ultrafine specimen was making her rethink that decision.
“Are you American or French?”
She blinked at his question. “I’m American.”
“So am I.”
She smiled. And what a good-looking American he was, with a body to die for. She felt as if she could draw her last breath just from looking at him. This guy was tall, at least six foot two or three. And his skin was the color of lightly roasted almonds. His dark eyes appeared somewhat slanted, and as far as she was concerned his lips were perfectly shaped. His hair was cut low on his head and his ears were just the right size for his face. But what captured her attention more than anything were those dimples in his cheeks. Doing absolutely nothing but standing there, he was arousing something within her that no other man ever had.
“And who are you?” she asked, deciding not to let him ask all the questions.
“I’m Laramie,” he said, stretching out his hand to her.
She took it and immediately a spike of heat seemed to burst from his fingers and hit her dead center between the thighs. And when she stared into his eyes and saw the dark heat in his pupils, she knew he’d felt something, as well.
“Are you married, Laramie?”
“No. I’ve never been married. What about you? I approached you because I didn’t see a ring on your finger.”
At least he didn’t hit on married women. Some men didn’t care. “No, I’m not married, either, and never have been.”
“So, Bristol Lockett, do I have your permission?”
She licked her lips. “For what?”
That sexy smile widened. “To be here when you get off.”
Then what? she wondered but decided not to ask. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
His chuckle made desire claw at her but it was his next words that sealed her fate. “There are a lot of things I want when it comes to you, Bristol.”
Jeez. If he wasn’t standing there she would close her eyes and moan. This man presented a temptation she shouldn’t even think about yielding to. Too bad her best friend, Dionne, was out of town for the holidays and not around to talk some sense into her.
“What about if we share a drink at one of the pubs first?” she asked, and then frowned. Why had she made it sound as if she would be willing to move to the next stage once they shared a drink?
“That’s fine. I’ll be back in four hours.”
When he walked off she glanced at her watch. Her break was officially over but she knew her encounter with this military man was just beginning.
She hurried behind the counter to put on her apron while watching Mary-Ann, another waitress, head over to the table to serve the five guys. More people entered the café, and Bristol was about to cross the room to serve a couple with a little girl when Mary-Ann stopped her.
“They asked for you,” Mary-Ann said, smiling.
“Who?”
“Those soldiers. I’ve given them menus but they want you to serve their table. That’s fine with me. Then I don’t have to commit a sin by forgetting I’ve been married to Joel almost twenty years. Those five are too much temptation,” she said, fanning herself. “I hope you can handle it.”
Bristol hoped she could handle it as well, as she made her way to the table where all five men sat. Hot and heavy testosterone was thick in the air surrounding them. Drawing in a deep breath she approached them with her notepad in hand. “Have you guys decided what you’re having?”
“Apparently, Coop has,” one of the men said, grinning at her. “We’re still deciding.”
She nodded. “Okay, and who is Coop?”
“I am,” the guy who had introduced himself to her earlier said.
She met his gaze. “I thought your name was Laramie.”
He smiled again and she tried not to feel weak in the knees. “It is. My real name is Laramie Cooper. They call me Coop.”
“Oh.”
“Let me introduce everyone,” Laramie said. “First off, guys, this is Bristol,” he said to his friends.
“Hello, Bristol,” they all said simultaneously as they stood to their feet, showing they had manners.
“Hello.”
“I’m Bane,” one of the men said, extending his hand to her.
She smiled at the very handsome military man as she shook his hand. “Hi, Bane.”
“Is that a New York accent?” Bane asked.
“Yes, you would think after being in France for almost four years it would not be so easily detected.”
Bane’s