One Winter's Night. Lori BorrillЧитать онлайн книгу.
reflection of Kit, as she was learning, and it recalled the old saying that everything was bigger in Texas. His house and his ranch—and a few other things—most definitely were.
“I knew the bacon would draw you out,” Kit said from the stove as she stepped up to the stone counter and took a seat at the bar. “Or was it the coffee?”
He stood barefoot at the stove wearing only a pair of worn jeans and a button-down flannel shirt that looked soft to the touch. His dark hair was still damp from a shower and through the heavenly scent of bacon and maple, the fresh odor of soap and aftershave seeped through. He’d left his shirttails out, giving him that rumpled look she found delectably attractive. Why she’d always gone for the polished look she’d never know. This easy, rugged strength was so much sexier.
“It was the smell of maple syrup,” she said. She eyed the feast he was constructing and her stomach growled. “Tell me you’ve got fluffy carbs for me to pour it on.”
“Pancakes are in the warmer.”
She brightened. “If they’re good, I’ll ask you to marry me.”
He smiled and winked. “I’ll say yes.”
She laughed at the joke, even though the look in his eyes said he might be serious. Instead, she focused on the coffee he placed in front of her.
“I’ve set you up in my office,” he said, placing platters in front of them before joining her at the bar for breakfast. Grinning, he added, “I suppose you didn’t get as much work done on the plane as you’d hoped.”
No, she hadn’t. Once they’d settled on his private jet she’d opened her laptop and tried to read through the reports, but she’d underestimated how sexy Kit would be on his phone talking business in that smoky Texas drawl. She’d kept forcing her attention back to her numbers and he’d kept yanking it away, and with one thing leading to another, she ultimately ended up a card-carrying member of the mile-high club.
“I had some trouble concentrating,” she replied, returning his knowing look.
“Well, that won’t be a problem today. The study is quiet and I won’t even be within earshot.”
“What are your plans?”
He talked around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “I’m working on a project out in the barn. When you want a break, come out and I’ll show it to you.”
She took a bite of pancake—fluffy enough to marry him, it turned out—and replied, “Fair enough.”
UNFORTUNATELY, TWO HOURS later she was no less distracted than she’d been on the plane. She’d gotten through the reports, made some cursory notes, but every time she started her write-up her mind wandered to the glorious time she was having with Kit and how much she really liked him.
They had more in common than she’d assumed that first night. At the time, she’d thought she was only dealing with attraction and sexual desire, but the more she got to know him, the more she began to recognize genuine affection. It was an experience that both excited her and left her a little afraid. Up to now, her life had been simple. She had her job and her travels, neither one interfering with the other. Now a man had come into that world, one who didn’t even live in Chicago, and her boat was starting to rock.
She wondered what he was doing. What was his project in the barn?
Then she scolded herself and put her focus back on work. John was expecting her briefing Monday morning, and she always provided him with the materials beforehand so he could review them in advance.
But that was Monday, and technically she had plenty of time to put her presentation together. Even probably on the plane ride back to Chicago if she really focused and buckled down.
Biting her lip, she closed her laptop. She’d never made a habit of putting off work, not even back in college. She’d always preferred to get it done first and play later—if there was time left over. But it wasn’t every day that a woman got whisked off in a private jet by a sexy cowboy to spend the weekend at his big sprawling ranch. It might never even happen again. So caution thrown aside, she left her write-up and set off to find him.
Despite several buildings on the property, she headed toward the one that most looked like a barn, pleased when she pulled open the door and found Kit inside. He was standing at a lathe, its motor whirring and sawdust flying as the machine spun what appeared to be a wooden table leg. He held a tool that was either smoothing or shaping the wood as it spun.
With her presence unknown, she stood and watched him work. The man was lethally handsome with his thick brown hair and solid square jaw. Though he shaved daily, his beard grew quickly, giving him a perpetually masculine look that she found deliciously attractive. He’d taken off the flannel shirt he’d worn at breakfast and was now clad in a T-shirt that showed off those muscled biceps she’d already grown so fond of. For several minutes she stood watching, listening to the country music from the radio, and as she took in the scene, she couldn’t help but be amused over this odd situation she’d found herself in.
If someone had told her last week that she’d be standing in a barn outside Austin tapping her toes to honky-tonk music while her wealthy cowboy lover sanded table legs, she would have checked them for drugs. Yet here she was.
And she was enjoying it, too.
He shut off the machine and pulled off his safety glasses, and when he caught sight of her his face lit with a smile that touched her chest.
“Hey, sexy,” he drawled.
KIT SLAPPED THE DUST from his hands and tugged Monica into a sensual kiss as soon as she came within reach. He knew he shouldn’t be so insatiable. He didn’t want her to think he only wanted her body, but he couldn’t help it. He’d found an appetite for the beautiful brunette he couldn’t seem to control.
Pressing his lips to hers, he found the sweet taste of maple sugar and it made him think of candy. He loved kissing her, loved having his hands on her and feeling those long fingers on him. It was a sugary treat he could get used to every day.
A low moan purred from her throat as she slid her hands up his chest, getting him hard and horny in one smooth stroke. And as he pulled her closer and dove in for something serious, he wondered where in his workshop might be the best spot for a quickie.
“You were going to show me your project,” she uttered to his lips.
“Something better just walked in.”
He slipped his hands up under her light cotton blouse and cupped her breasts in his palms, deciding that the workbench could be cleared pretty quickly. But then he remembered that Doug Rawlins, a mechanic, was due any minute to give him an estimate on one of his trucks.
Reluctantly, he pulled away. “You torment me, you know that?” he grumbled.
“I didn’t ask you to stop.”
“No, but I’m expecting company, and give me two more minutes near that sexy body of yours, we’ll end up putting on quite a show.”
“Hmm.” She touched a finger to her lips. “I could do kinky, but I do draw the line at voyeurism.”
His interest piqued. “How kinky?”
“Your project,” she said, straightening her blouse and moving toward his lathe.
Storing that comment for later, he guided her toward another room, where he’d been finishing the desk he was working on. “It’s a Christmas present for my niece.”
Monica gaped as she stepped over and studied the piece. “You made this?”
Shrugging, he tried to brush off his boyish pride in impressing the woman. “I’m working on a matching chair, but I’m running out of time.”
He stepped to the desk. It was pine with a beveled top and three drawers, simple in construction and stained in a light natural finish. What made it special was the carved roses around the