Big Sky Baby. Judy DuarteЧитать онлайн книгу.
Stories of family and romance beneath the Big Sky!
“All right, Jilly.
That kiss scared the hell out of me.”
She stepped away from the table and crossed her arms, eyes tempting him like two Hershey’s kisses. “No one knows you like I do, Jeff. I understand your love of flying, your need for freedom. And even if I were crazy in love with you, I wouldn’t expect anything from you, other than friendship.”
That was good, wasn’t it?
Before he could respond, she added, “I hope you won’t allow that kiss—as hot as it was—to ruin what we have. I’d like to keep you in my life.”
“I’ve forgotten it already,” he lied. Then he gave her a hug to prove he wasn’t going to let the kiss affect him.
Trouble was, it already had.
Far more than he was willing to admit.
Big Sky Baby
Judy Duarte
JUDY DUARTE
always knew there was a book inside her, but since English was her least-favorite subject in school, she never considered herself a writer. An avid reader who enjoys a happy ending, Judy couldn’t shake the dream of creating a book of her own.
Her dream became a reality in March of 2002, when Silhouette Special Edition released her first book, Cowboy Courage. Since then, she has published more than twenty novels. Her stories have touched the hearts of readers around the world. And in July of 2005, Judy won the prestigious Readers’ Choice Award for The Rich Man’s Son.
Judy makes her home near the beach in Southern California. When she’s not cooped up in her writing cave, she’s spending time with her somewhat enormous but delightfully close family.
To Don Ham and Duke Dunn, my pilot connections. You have no idea how much I appreciate the time you spent with me, answering questions, offering technical advice and looking over scenes.
And to Joe Trapp, whose wife, Jessica, thrust a phone in his hand and said, “Honey, talk to my friend.” Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
This book is for you.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
Jeff Forsythe was back in town.
All right, Jilly Davis thought, maybe temporarily, but he was home just the same. And it was a darn good thing, because she could really use a friend in the flesh right now, not to mention a hug.
When Jeff left to join the forestry service five years ago, Jilly had felt somewhat abandoned. But unlike every other male she’d known, he’d called her every week, insisting on maintaining their friendship.
Jilly scanned the green, woodsy interior of the florist shop Jeff had loaned her the money to buy. She hoped he liked what she’d done to the place, especially the window display that changed every couple of days.
She’d gotten a deal on Gerber daisies this week, and using pots of the pastel-hued flowers and a quaint cast-iron bench, she’d created a parklike setting to catch the eyes of the locals who passed by.
Jeff had always said she was artistic, and apparently he’d been right. Jilly’s Lilies was a blooming success.
Imagine that. The scruffy little Davis girl from the wrong side of the tracks was now a genuine member of the Rumor Chamber of Commerce—and a homeowner to boot. That was quite a feat for someone like her to accomplish, especially at the ripe old age of twenty-three.
Who would have guessed?
No one but Jeff Forsythe, that’s for sure.
What made their mismatched friendship even more surprising was the fact that he’d been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth.
Jeff often referred to himself as a shirttail relative of the MonMart Kingsleys, but the shirttail had been made of the finest imported silk.
His socialite mother had been Carolyn Kingsley’s younger sister, and when she died in a fiery car accident, six-year-old Jeff was sent to live with his aunt and uncle on the Kingsley ranch.
Jeff was a very wealthy man by virtue of his mother’s money alone. The Kingsley riches only added to his considerable worth. But you’d never know it by looking at him. Jeff was one of the most unassuming guys Jilly had ever met.
More times than she could count, Jeff had ventured over to her run-down, trashy side of the tracks, something that had caused his wealthy, straitlaced Aunt Carolyn a great deal of worry. Still, the social icon of Rumor hadn’t been able to discourage their friendship. Nor had the passing of time.
Jilly hadn’t seen Jeff in five years, but she doubted he’d changed much. Tall, lanky. Dark hair, nice, but serious smile. He was the one constant force in her life.
And her very best friend.
She’d missed him something fierce when he left town, but their friendship continued to flourish over the telephone and through a jillion e-mails.
Who needed Dear Abby when a girl had her very own Jeff Forsythe to keep her in line, to listen to her problems, to encourage her hopes and dreams?
Jilly had a penchant for getting herself into one jam or another, and Jeff’s friendship had proven to be an invaluable asset. She had a feeling he actually liked coming to her rescue, although he probably wouldn’t admit it. Either way, the years had only deepened their relationship.
Each time the bell on the florist shop door rang, she glanced up from her work, hoping to see her old friend. At a quarter to five the bell chimed again, and this time her glance was rewarded.
Only it wasn’t the gangly kid she remembered who stood in the doorway of her shop. It was a tall, dark-haired god of epic proportions—a sight worthy of a gasp, a second glance or an all-out gaping stare.
Lanky Jeff Forsythe had filled out, grown up and aged to perfection. When he removed his aviator glasses, eyes the color of the Montana sky locked on hers, piercing her heart and sending a swarm of bewildered butterflies to her tummy.
If Jeff hadn’t grown used to feminine appreciation, he’d better.
His smile broadened, revealing a set of dashing dimples. “Hey, good-lookin’. Where can I find the owner of this establishment?”
“You found her, flyboy.” Jilly hoped he hadn’t seen or sensed her reaction to the sight of him.
Sheesh.