A Wife for One Year. Brenda HarlenЧитать онлайн книгу.
it?” Daniel said. “The sights, the sounds, even the smells. There’s nothing like the excitement of race day at the track.”
“You’re right about that.” Archie finished his scotch.
“So why hasn’t anyone managed to draw you back into that excitement?” Daniel asked. “Because I know teams have tried.”
“And how do you know that?” Archie countered.
“I’ve been doing some research, looking for a sponsor for Garrett/Slater Racing.”
“Who?”
Daniel smiled. “Let me buy you a drink and answer that question.”
* * *
Kenna didn’t fall asleep easily.
Although the bed was undeniably comfortable, it wasn’t her bed. And although she was alone, she knew that Daniel would be coming back to the room at some point. When he did, she thought she’d finally be able to sleep. But in the quiet darkness of the night, she was acutely aware of his every movement.
She heard the zip of his duffel bag being opened, then his muffled footsteps on the carpet, the click of the bathroom door and the pulsing of water in the shower. And that was when her naughty side took over, picturing him naked and wet, rubbing soap over his body, the lather sliding over his taut skin as the warm spray washed it away.
She’d seen him shirtless a number of times and had a pretty good idea of the basics. But since she’d never actually seen him naked, she gave her imagination free rein to fill in as required. And as her mind fleshed out those intriguing details, she finally drifted off....
The ring of his cell phone woke her up the next morning. Daniel snatched it up quickly, probably so that it wouldn’t wake her, then he slipped out into the hall to have his conversation.
Kenna took advantage of his momentary absence to gather a change of clothes and take them into the bathroom. She dragged a brush through her hair, cleaned her teeth and quickly applied her basic makeup: eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss. Then she pulled on a pair of dark jeans and topped them with a pale pink T-shirt with lace overlay.
She was packing her toiletries into her bag when he came back into the room, pushing a room service cart.
“New job?”
He grinned. “I thought, if you were still asleep, you wouldn’t appreciate a waiter strolling into the room.”
“Good call.”
He lifted the lids on the plates. “We’ve got eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, pancakes, fruit, yogurt, muffins, fresh juice and coffee.”
“Oh.” She feigned disappointment. “No French toast?”
His gaze narrowed. “Put the eggs on the toast,” he suggested.
She smiled as she picked up a slice of bacon, bit into it. “So how much did you win?”
He poured two cups of coffee, pushed one across the table to her. “Sorry?”
“You were whistling when you came in last night, so I figured you must have won big.”
He winced as he scooped eggs onto his plate. “Did I wake you?”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t sleeping.”
“Actually, I probably lost about three hundred. But—” his smile came back in full force “—I might have a line on a sponsor.”
“Josh must be thrilled,” she said, because she knew he would have shared the news with his soon-to-be partner right away.
“Cautiously optimistic.” He added three sausage links and two pancakes to his plate. “We’ve had trouble finding a driver because we didn’t have a sponsor, but no one wants to sponsor a team that doesn’t have a committed driver.”
She spooned berries on top of her yogurt, then threw caution to the wind and snagged another slice of bacon. “So who is this sponsor?”
“Potential sponsor,” he clarified.
She rolled her eyes as she sat down across from him. “Who is this potential sponsor?”
“Archer Glass.”
“Randy Britton’s old sponsor?”
“I’m impressed.”
“Because I actually paid attention when you made me watch racing with you?”
He grinned. “Yeah.”
“So when will you know if this potential sponsor is going to become an actual sponsor?”
“Hopefully soon.” He got up to refill his coffee. “By the way, I had a message from Dr. Rakem this morning. He wants to do Becca’s surgery on Thursday.”
The abrupt shift in topic didn’t surprise her half as much as the statement. “This Thursday?”
He nodded. “He had a cancellation so he offered to fit Becca in.”
“But she hasn’t even had her pre-op appointment—”
“Four o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
“I can’t believe it.” Even as her eyes filled with tears, she pushed away from the table and threw her arms around him. “Thank you.”
“This is why we got married,” he echoed her words.
She impulsively moved to kiss his cheek, except that he shifted his head at the same moment and her lips landed closer to the corner of his mouth than his cheek. Not on his mouth, but close enough that she felt that tingle again, from her lips all the way to the deepest part of herself.
She pulled back quickly, but his eyes held hers for a long moment, and she knew without a doubt that this time he’d felt the tingle, too.
But she didn’t know what, if anything, either of them should do about it.
* * *
As Daniel and Kenna waited for their flight to board, he sensed her growing nervousness. He knew she was worried about sharing the news of their impromptu wedding with their families—probably his even more than her own.
Because of their long and enduring friendship, his brothers already thought of her as a sister and his parents treated her like a daughter, but the news of their elopement would undoubtedly raise eyebrows. She was worried that no one would believe that a decade of friendship had turned into something else, and he couldn’t ignore her concerns. But he trusted that they could make this work, because they had that foundation of friendship, laid more than ten years before...
She wanted him to split the money and buy pizza out of his half?
He didn’t know if he was insulted or impressed by her suggestion. But he wanted to spend time with her away from school even more than he wanted to win the bet, so he accepted her terms.
She suggested Mossimo’s—a pizza place in her neighborhood—and he agreed because he knew she felt out of place with his usual crowd. He had no doubt that his friends would accept her, if only she would give them a chance, but he sensed it was going to take some time and patience to knock the chip off her shoulder.
They shared a medium pizza with pepperoni and hot peppers on his half, mushrooms and green peppers on hers, and a couple of sodas. When the pizza was delivered to their table, she slid a slice onto her plate, then picked off every single mushroom before she bit into it. He’d started on his fourth slice while she was carefully removing toppings from her second.
“Why did you order mushrooms if you don’t like mushrooms?” he finally asked.
“Because I’m going to take the other two slices home for my sister, and she does like mushrooms.”
“How old’s your sister?”
“Four.”
“And