A Last Chance Christmas. Vicki Thompson LewisЧитать онлайн книгу.
would be a good start.
Then, after he’d buried his fingers in her hair, he could lean even closer and kiss her. Maybe she should take off her glasses to make that maneuver easier, but he’d told her to hold still. She’d have to move a little, though, because he was almost a foot taller than she was. She’d have to stand on tiptoe for a proper kiss.
As his fingers made contact, she closed her eyes and tried to breathe normally. That sure wasn’t working. Finally she gulped in some air so she wouldn’t pass out and tumble down the curved staircase.
“There you go.”
She opened her eyes to discover a piece of dental floss dangling in front of her face.
“It was in your hair.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks hot, she grabbed the floss and rubbed it between her palms until it was a tiny ball. Then she shoved it in the pocket of her jeans. “Thanks. That’s what I get for rushing.” She couldn’t make herself look at him.
“You have great hair.”
That brought her head up. She gazed into his warm brown eyes and said the first thing that popped into her head. “So do you.”
“Thank you.” The crinkles reappeared at the corners of his eyes because he was smiling again. “I got teased about it as a kid. I guess I looked too girly.”
Not anymore. “What do kids know?”
“Not just kids. My dad, too.”
“Oh.” That made her heart hurt. “Guess you proved him wrong, huh?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if I did or not. We’re not that close, anyway.”
“Well, that’s...” She stopped herself before saying it was too bad. She knew nothing about him, really, or about his family. For him, distance from his father might be a good thing. “That’s the way it happens sometimes.” She’d honor his obvious wish to make light of what, for her, would be a devastating situation. She couldn’t imagine not being close to either of her parents.
“Yep, sure does. Ready?”
“You tell me. I was prepared to walk downstairs wearing dental floss. Do I pass inspection?”
“Now that you mention it, I don’t know if you do or not. Back up and do a slow turn for me.”
She followed his instructions, although she didn’t kid herself that he had ulterior motives for the request. There wasn’t much to see because she’d always been slender, not curvy. If she’d been taller, instead of only five-four, she could have been a runway model.
But not really. The idea had been an obsession of hers as a preteen, when her egghead status had made her feel uncool. A career as a high-fashion model would have soothed her ego. But she’d abandoned that plan when she’d realized, first, she’d never grow tall enough, and second, she’d only be modeling to improve her social standing, which was a dumb reason to get into any line of work.
So, instead, she’d embraced her brainy side, especially her passion for details, specifically historical details. Teaching history during the day and studying genealogy in her spare time made her incredibly happy. In her chosen profession, being an egghead was a good thing.
She finished her circle and glanced up at him. “Okay?”
“Perfect.”
Of course he didn’t mean that literally, but she couldn’t help the squiggle of happiness that danced through her. When a man who looked like Ben declared that she was perfect, she’d take it with a grain of salt, but she’d take it. “Then let’s go down.”
“Now I’m not sure if I pass inspection or not.”
“Don’t worry.” She smiled at him. “You’re perfect, too.” That was the main problem with him, in fact. If she were to design her ideal man, he would look exactly like Ben. She just hoped he wouldn’t turn out to be the guy who would haunt her dreams once she left Wyoming.
BEN WASN’T SURE what to do about his instant attraction to the impish woman descending the staircase beside him. He tended to go for tall and curvy. Molly was short and on the skinny side. He’d never finished college, which didn’t matter for his saddle making, but he’d steered away from dating scholars because he wasn’t sure how to talk to them. Molly was a college professor.
And yet she didn’t act much like one, or the way he thought a college professor would behave. He didn’t have a lot of experience to go on, but he’d had no trouble talking to her. He liked talking to her, in fact. She was so full of energy, so happy. He imagined that he could see her glowing, and not just when she blushed because she’d put her foot in her mouth.
That was part of why she charmed him. Apparently he flustered her, which made him want to fluster her more just to see the pink bloom on her cheeks. But that didn’t explain the visceral tug he’d felt when she’d walked down the hall toward him, or the surge of desire he’d felt when she made a slow turn, allowing him to view her from all sides.
She hadn’t done it in a suggestive way, as if trying to showcase her body. Yet he’d had the almost irresistible urge to get his hands on her. He still had that urge. He had no trouble imagining what she’d feel like beneath him, a small but explosive bundle of heat. He had a hunch she’d drive him crazy.
Maybe he was drawn to her because of the advance billing. He’d been curious to meet the woman who had no problem pestering all three Chance men for what she wanted. After watching his mother’s mouse-like behavior for years, he admired any female who stood up for herself. He might never marry, but if he did, it would be to someone who refused to be intimidated by anyone, especially him.
“So, where are you from, Ben?”
Her question brought him back to reality. He’d already pictured them in bed together and she didn’t even know where he lived. “Sheridan.”
“Really? That’s fabulous! Maybe you can help me track down two of my relatives, an aunt and a cousin.”
“Maybe. I’ve lived there for seven years.”
“I hope so. It’s not a huge place. My aunt’s married name was Heather Marlowe. At least, that’s what it was last time we heard from her, although that was a long time ago. She was in Sheridan then.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“My cousin’s name is Cade. His dad was a bull rider, Rance Marlowe, although he’d be too old to do that now. From what I’ve heard, he wasn’t a very nice guy. Aunt Heather might have divorced him, but nobody knows because she stopped writing or calling.”
“Sorry, but I don’t think I’ve met anybody named Marlowe.”
Molly sighed. “It was worth a shot. I’ve investigated online but I got nowhere. Rance followed the rodeo circuit and was never in one place for long. My aunt trailed after him and brought little Cade along, too. Well, he’s not so little anymore. He’d be the same age as I am, twenty-eight.”
He considering pointing out that she was still little, even at twenty-eight, but he figured she’d probably had her fill of short-person jokes. “So they might have had some tough times financially along the way?”
She paused at the foot of the stairs and turned to him. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Why?”
“They might have made use of social services there. I know a retired social worker. Maybe she’d remember something, or could ask around.”
“That’s a great idea. I didn’t think of that, but it gives me another avenue. Thanks!”
“She lives not too far from Sheridan at a place called Thunder Mountain Ranch. I—” He caught himself right before he screwed up. He’d