His Perfect Bride: Hired by the Cowboy / Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek / Coming Home to the Cattleman. Judy ChristenberryЧитать онлайн книгу.

      She woke at dawn and checked her watch. It was barely five. Squinting, she glared at the window that was letting in all the lemony fresh sunshine. Last night she’d been so distracted she’d forgotten to pull the blinds. Her cheek still remembered the weight of his hand, caressing the soft skin there. Her drive him crazy? Not if he drove her nuts first. He was giving her the opportunity to back out. And she should. She was far too taken with him already. He was too strong, yet kind and understanding.

      And he looked far too good in a pair of faded jeans. Add in that messy, slightly ragged hair, and any woman would be a goner. She should run, very quickly, in the opposite direction.

      But the truth of the matter was this was by far the best way for her to provide for her child. She couldn’t go back to where she’d been staying, as the tenant had decided to move in with her boyfriend when Alex left. She’d quit her job at a moment’s notice. And now was no time to start from scratch.

      She stared at the window. The flimsy white curtains didn’t do much to keep out daylight, even when the sun was rising on the other side of the house. Tonight she’d make sure the blind was down. She sure didn’t want to wake at five every day.

      Footsteps passed outside her door, quiet, stocking-footed. A floorboard creaked beneath the weight. Connor was up already? She pushed the covers back and stepped out onto the hardwood floor. She’d missed his rising yesterday. She might as well get up now that she was awake, start learning what he liked for breakfast—and how he cooked it. If she weren’t going to be allowed to help outside, she meant to do her best inside.

      She went downstairs dressed still in her pajamas—cotton shorts and a tank top. When she reached the kitchen, Connor already had a skillet on the burner and was half buried in the refrigerator, pulling out ingredients. He was dressed in what she now realized must be his customary uniform—faded jeans and a plain T-shirt. Her mouth grew dry as he dug deeper, the seat of his jeans filling out. She was in serious trouble here.

      The touch of his hand on her face last night had prompted strange dreams. In them he’d stroked her cheek and kissed her. And it hadn’t been a brotherly kiss either. In her slumbers he’d taken her mouth wholly, completely. His lips had been soft, deliberate, and devastating. His hands had glided over her skin. Tender. Possessive.

      He straightened, turned with eggs in his hands, and jumped.

      She wanted to disappear through the floor. Belatedly she realized her fingers were touching her lips…and that her nipples were puckered up almost painfully. All from the sight of his bottom in some worn denim.

      “I didn’t expect you up for hours yet.”

      Blushing, she turned away, searching the cupboard for dishes. Hormones, she tried, quite unsuccessfully, to convince herself. It had to be the excess hormones in her system making her feel so…carnal.

      “I forgot to pull the blind last night,” she said to the plates. “You always up this early?”

      He put a carton of eggs on the counter and nodded. “Ranching isn’t exactly a nine-to-five business. You hungry?”

      She was ravenous…and she couldn’t blame that on her pregnancy. She’d found it incredibly difficult to eat after their walk, despite the fact that the chili had actually turned out fine.

      “Normally I don’t eat until later, but after last night…”

      The words hung between them, not only a reminder of their walk but of the strange feeling of intimacy that had followed their personal revelations. She needed to keep things casual. She’d walked away from his touch last night; he had no idea she’d started fantasizing about him. She didn’t want things to become more uncomfortable between them.

      “What are you making?” She asked it quickly, to dispel the sudden feeling that he was remembering too.

      “Scrambled eggs, sliced ham, and toast.”

      “Will you show me?” She stepped forward, feeling a little silly that at twenty-three she didn’t even know how to scramble eggs. She wanted desperately to contribute, but having Connor have to show her everything…he could probably do it much faster himself than taking the time to instruct her. Setting her jaw, she vowed to pay close attention and learn—quickly.

      “Sure.” He cracked eggs into a bowl and handed her a whisk while he put butter in the pan. “Here. Beat the daylights out of those for a minute.”

      Her lips curved up without warning. She was really starting to like his sense of humor. He was relaxed and joking, which meant he wasn’t letting what had happened affect their relationship. Perhaps being married, even for such a brief time, could be enjoyable. Their personalities meshed. And, yes, the ranch was isolated, but Alex was used to being alone and didn’t find it too solitary. For the first time in a long time she felt a little hope that things would turn out all right after all. If only she could learn her share. If only they could maintain their boundaries.

      As she was whisking he explained about adding salt and pepper and she paid close attention to quantities. He let the butter melt in the skillet, and then poured in the eggs.

      “Once they start to set a little, then you keep pushing them around,” he explained, and handed her the spatula.

      She stuck it in the pan but splashed a little egg batter over the side. “Like this,” he explained, and moved in behind her, covering her hand with his own on the spatula.

      Alex’s breath caught. Connor had showered last night and now, at the start of day, the scent of his soap was mingled with the smell of man in the morning. His body was warm and firm, close behind her, and the intimacy of the moment curled through her. OK, maybe this marriage wouldn’t be as enjoyable as she thought. Not if she had to spend the next several months hiding the fact that he made her pulse race every time he was close. Last night’s tender caress was only the tip of the iceberg.

      His voice was oddly thick as he pulled away. “You’re getting it now,” he mumbled, and moved to put slices of bread in the toaster.

      She pushed the eggs to one side and managed to fry the ham slices without incident. Silently they sat at the table to eat, while the light around them grew brighter.

      “I called my grandmother last night.”

      She nearly choked on her toast. “You did?”

      “I explained I was getting married.” His smile was grim. “I think she’ll probably come up here today to check you out.”

      She hadn’t counted on grandmothers. And his had to know that this wasn’t a regular marriage. This had been a real, functioning family, she was sure. And that meant that his grandmother would likely be outraged at the fact that he was marrying a relative stranger for money.

      “Why did you do that? I didn’t sign up for irate grandmothers!” Her voice rose in panic. Not only was she a stranger, but an inept one. She didn’t know much about being domestic and less about farming. Surely his grandmother would find her completely unsuitable? Alex wasn’t ready for that type of criticism to be heaped on her head. After the ridiculous sexual thoughts she’d had about him lately, she couldn’t seem to keep up with all the emotions he inspired in her. Last night had been sympathy, tenderness. Then carnality, embarrassment. And right now she was seeing the red cape of anger. If this was going to be a rollercoaster, she wanted off.

      Connor didn’t see the huge problem in telling his grandmother anything at all. After all, Gram had told him to get courting.