Wife Wanted. Christine RimmerЧитать онлайн книгу.
backward toward the main hall. Rick watched her go.
As soon as she lost sight of him, she realized how silly she must look, walking backward through the hall. So she turned around, squared her shoulders and marched, head high, up the stairs.
She came down twenty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed in white shorts, a red silk camp shirt and a pair of sandals. The shower and the change of clothes had helped a lot. She felt much more in control of herself—until Rick smiled at her and told her she looked great and she felt like a tongue-tied teenager all over again.
They all trooped down to the dock out back and into the boathouse where Rick put the lunch basket in the big galley of the cabin, and then got a quick lesson in how to operate the boat from Natalie. Since no one planned to water-ski, they left the smaller boat behind.
For their first time out, Natalie backed the Lady Kate from the slip inside the boathouse, so that Rick could see how it was done. Then, once they were launched and pointed in the right direction, she turned the wheel over to Rick.
Several miles out, they turned off the big engine and let the boat drift. Rick brought out the lunch. More than once as they devoured the lemon roast chicken and pasta salad, Rick teased Toby that Bernie would get fat if he didn’t stop slipping him treats.
“And look how big he is already,” Natalie said. “If he gets fat, he’ll fall through the floor of the farmhouse.”
“He’ll sink the boat,” Rick warned.
Natalie couldn’t resist adding, “The dock will collapse when he wanders out onto it.”
Toby just looked at them—and gave Bernie the last hunk of his dinner roll.
When they’d eaten their fill, the child and the dog stretched out on the deck, while Natalie and Rick made themselves comfortable on the padded benches that lined the bow. They leaned on the railing and gazed off at the shoreline, picking out the houses that could be seen here and there between the trees.
“There. Look. That’s my family’s estate.” Natalie pointed at a huge green expanse of lawn on a faraway bank. The lawn swept up to a graceful stone balustrade and a wide terrace. Behind the terrace loomed an imposing Greek Revival-style house, its many windows glittering like jewels in the afternoon sun.
“Impressive,” Rick said.
A wave of sadness washed over Natalie. Once, the huge house had been like a second home to her. But now, with her father living there alone save for the small army of staff the place required, it just wasn’t the same. She’d spoken to her father two days before, when she’d asked him to send help to switch the furniture around for Toby. He’d sounded awful—distracted and distant. In spite of her determination to steer clear of family turmoil, she hadn’t been able to stop herself asking him if he was all right.
He’d laughed; it had been a grim, depressing sound. And he’d told her not to believe everything she read in the papers, that he was getting by.
Now, she found herself telling Rick, “When I was a little girl, it seemed as if we used to spend more time in that house over there than at our own house in Minneapolis. We’d come out on weekends, even in the deepest heart of winter, when the grounds were covered in a blanket of white and we had to spend most of the time indoors. And in the summer, we’d sometimes come and stay for weeks at a time. Grandma Kate and Grandpa Ben lived there together, right up until he died, about ten years ago. When I was little, my aunt Rebecca— She’s Grandma Kate and Grandpa Ben’s youngest. Maybe you’ve heard of her?”
“Rebecca Fortune…the mystery writer?”
“That’s the one. Anyway, Aunt Rebecca was still a child, too. So she lived at the estate. And my uncle Nathaniel used to bring his family for visits, the same as my dad and mom brought us—all the time. So the place always seemed like it was full of kids. Overflowing with activity. Laughter and happy shouts just bounced off the walls.”
Rick was watching her, smiling a little. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
“Three sisters, one brother.”
“A big family.”
“You actually sound jealous.”
“I am,” he admitted. “I was an only.”
“You wanted siblings?”
“You bet I did.”
She couldn’t resist confessing, “There have been times I would have gladly given away one or two of mine.”
“Which ones?”
“Is that a fair question?”
“Natalie. Come on.”
“Oh, all right. The twins. Allie and Rocky.”
“Allie’s the model.”
“Yep. And Rocky looks just like her. They’re identical. Two of the most gorgeous women in the world—even though Rocky never went in for the glamour route. She’s a pilot, like Grandma Kate.”
“Why would you have given them away?”
“Did I say that?”
“Come on. Spill it.”
She laughed. “All right. Because I was so jealous of them, that’s why. They always had each other, no matter what else went wrong. They had that thing that identicals so often have. A world of their own. It was sometimes as if they could read each other’s minds, you know? And even though they were two years younger than me, which should have given me some kind of edge over them, I was the one who felt left out.”
“So you were jealous of their closeness.”
“Yes. And that’s not all.”
“I’m listening.”
And he was. Listening. So intently. As if he really cared. She felt her cheeks coloring. “Why am I telling you all of this?”
“Because I asked. Go on.”
“It’s not important.”
“Natalie.” He looked at her levelly. “I want to hear it.”
She believed him. She shouldn’t, she knew it. But she did. She heard herself confessing, “Well, to me it always seemed that, between the two of them, Allie and Rocky were perfect.”
“Perfect?”
“Um-hm. They seemed to have every single desirable trait that I lacked. Beauty and courage, a spirit of adventure, an air of excitement that followed them both wherever they went. And you know what?”
“Uh-uh.”
“They’re both still like that. Gorgeous and brainy and brave and exciting.” She rested a hand on the bench cushion and leaned toward him. “And Caroline, my older sister, is no slouch, either. The truth is, I’m the boring sister.”
He faked a groan. “Are you fishing for compliments?”
She thought about that, then confessed, “Sure sounds like it, doesn’t it?”
He leaned toward her, so there were only inches between their noses. She caught a hint of his after-shave, a fresh, outdoorsy scent, and found herself thinking that he smelled every bit as good as he looked.
He said, “You are not boring.”
She sighed. Rick was a terrific guy.
Too terrific, a voice way back in her mind warned, to ever want or need someone like you.
She had to get some distance. Fast.
She shifted back away from him. “We should either drop the anchor or start up the engine again. We’re getting a little too close to shore.”
They started the engine. Toby, who’d been sitting on the deck with Bernie, got up and stood proudly beside his father as Rick