One in a Billion. Beth KeryЧитать онлайн книгу.
at DuBois Enterprises.
She took a hot bath and dressed in a pair of jeans and a favorite soft, cotton cable-knit sweater. To her dismay, she found herself spending way too much time on her makeup, accentuating the color and shape of her eyes with liner and subtle eye shadow. When she realized what she was doing, she irritably threw the makeup in a bag and stalked out of the bathroom.
What was she doing, primping for Nick Malone?
She was convinced she was indifferent to his arrival when a knock came at her door a little after six o’clock.
She was entirely uncaring about seeing him, that is, until she opened her front door and saw him standing on the dim porch, snow dusting his hair and jacket, and holding the trunk of a perfectly shaped, six-foot pine tree and a huge bag from Shop and Save.
“I thought you might like a Christmas tree,” he stated simply.
She blinked in amazement, transferring her gaze from the tree to his face. She was stunned. Had he noticed last night—that flash of longing she’d tried to hide when they’d talked about childhood Christmases? Had he noticed months ago, at The Pines, when she’d conversed with Lincoln?
She knew he had when she looked into his somber eyes, knew it down in her very bones.
“I hope it’s okay,” he said quietly. “What do you say, Deidre? A truce? Just for one night?” he added when she didn’t speak.
She dazedly realized she’d just left him standing there at the front door, gaping at him.
“I … well … all right. I mean … it is a great tree.” His face lit up at her flustered response. She gave him a sheepish grin. It was hard to frown at Nick when he flashed those dimples.
He gave the pine a good shake to remove the few snow-flakes that had settled on the upper boughs.
“One of the reasons I got this one was that it was beneath a canopy and completely dry … at least until I carried it to the car,” he explained, knocking off a last few stubborn flakes with his gloved hand.
Without thinking Deidre stepped forward and brushed snow off his shoulder, going up on tiptoe to swipe her hand through his dark brown hair. The strands felt thick, soft and chilled beneath her fingers. He glanced at her in surprise. His face was close. He had little flecks of black interspersed in the silver-gray of his irises. His lashes were very thick….
She cleared her throat and stepped back, banging her hip clumsily on the door.
“Come in,” she said breathlessly, opening the door wider to make way for Nick and his heartwarming gift, all the while hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake by letting him into the cottage … by inviting him into her life.
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