Hot Sheets. Jeanie LondonЧитать онлайн книгу.
a gift for adding subtext to innocent remarks, and the subtext on this one was loud and clear—Laura dating anyone from her circle of acquaintances was a joke.
Once upon a time Laura had cared. Fortunately, she’d evolved into a woman who would never date anyone from such snobby circles. She’d had her fill of those types growing up in Miranda’s shadow, thank you very much.
Even Miranda’s husband watched them with a frown. More than polite interest was happening here, and while Laura wished she could commiserate with Troy, she couldn’t. He might present himself as a normal, decent man, but he had to be flawed in some way to have married this woman.
“Well,” Laura began, deliberating what to say. She’d lay down and die before letting Miranda know she didn’t have a date yet. “Since my escort isn’t from around here, I don’t believe you know him, but I will introduce you. With all the events, we’ll have plenty of opportunity.”
She hoped. If her architect arrived with a date, she’d be stuck roping the assistant general manager into playing her escort. A dismal prospect even if the man knew the first thing about having fun, which he didn’t.
A slight nod. A condescending smile. Then Miranda said, “I’ll look forward to meeting him then.”
Laura would just bet. But even if her plans for a date fell through, she wouldn’t let that spoil her grand opening. Once upon a time she might have been easily shaken by unfavorable comparisons to this woman, but she’d grown to be a woman who’d learned from the experience.
Miranda Knight couldn’t rattle her cage unless Laura let her.
And Laura wouldn’t.
“Shall we, then?” She motioned them toward the promenade, pleased at how unfazed she sounded.
Miranda noticed. She arched one of those meticulously shaped eyebrows as she swept by on her husband’s arm. Laura didn’t care. She was closer to getting this couple checked in and out of her hair.
But as they moved across the main lobby, the man who’d been occupying a top slot in Laura’s thoughts strolled through the inn’s front doors.
He appeared as if conjured straight from her imagination, one of those stop-traffic gorgeous men who couldn’t walk into a room without drawing attention. Not because he was loud or showy but simply because he was there.
He had that something about him, and it didn’t matter whether he wore a business suit or workboots and a hard hat. A hint of bad boy lingered in his easy smile, in his smoky-gray eyes and the way he made everywhere seem like the perfect setting for his dark good looks.
Laura drank in the sight of him, her body instantly on red alert. The bottom dropped from her stomach, and the reaction was so intense, so automatic, that she might have laughed. But there was absolutely nothing funny about the sultry brunette dangling from this man’s arm.
DALE EMERSON NOTICED the lovely Laura as soon as he walked through Falling Inn Bed’s front door. She stood showcased in the open area that led to the promenade, breathtaking, her suit hinting at all the sleek curves hidden beneath its tailored lines. Not to mention showing off a great pair of legs.
Her gaze lingered over him as if she’d been waiting for his arrival, as though she somehow knew he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head in the month since he’d left Niagara Falls.
Laura…what was it about her?
Dale couldn’t answer the question, damn it. He only knew his own gaze lingered as if he’d been waiting every day of the last month to see her.
As always, she wore her long hair swept back in an elaborate French braid that hung heavily down her back. He’d had fantasies about unraveling her white-blond hair and draping it across his naked body. He’d had fantasies about how he’d enjoy her naked body, too, and about those long, long legs sweated up enough to glide sleekly through his.
Even the way she moved made him think of sex, all that graceful, breathless energy…just the thought made him aware, and too damned horny.
Oh, man, he so didn’t want to see Laura again. If not for his obligation to attend this grand opening, he’d have spun the invitation back without opening it. But as project architect for the new addition, Dale was obligated.
This Wedding Wing marked his firm’s first foray out of historic restoration and into construction, an expansion that had been solely his idea. He hadn’t wanted to leave his firm for another job, but he had wanted to direct a team of his own, which meant finally breaking up the dynamic duo that he’d been with his buddy—the company’s owner—Nick Fairfax.
He’d come up with the compromise of the expansion, a decision Dale hadn’t made lightly. He’d been Nick’s right hand for a long time, and the two of them had not only earned significant recognition with their restoration work, but had entertained themselves by chasing women on job sites all over the globe. But ever since Nick had married a fellow preservationist, things had been changing.
The beautiful Julienne had consumed Nick from the get-go, and Dale had laughed like hell while watching Nick do the bump and grind of making himself a serious contender for her affections.
He was still laughing when he stood beside Nick at the altar as his bride had walked down the aisle.
But Dale’s humor eventually had started to fade when he discovered the thrill of chasing women wasn’t nearly so much fun when he was pursuing them alone. He hadn’t lost his best friend exactly…it was just damned hard to discuss the finer points of the opposite sex with a man who had everything he wanted in his bed every night.
This was a concept Dale flat-out didn’t understand.
He’d never had a hard-on for a woman that the next beauty who walked by couldn’t cure. Except for one…
The one who had zeroed in on him across an entire lobby of milling guests.
If it was any consolation—and it wasn’t—Laura Granger had always been as aware of him as he was of her. When their gazes clashed across the distance, every muscle in his body galvanized at the appreciation he saw in her crystalline blue eyes.
They’d been wired with some sort of sex radar, and after all the time he’d spent working with her, he should be used to the effect. He wasn’t. He’d been telling himself this acute awareness was nothing more than a side effect of this project. The Wedding Wing equaled sex, which had meant conversation after conversation about the topic with Laura.
He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d talked more sex that he’d actually had in his lifetime—and he’d had his fair share. But sex had become an obsession with the Wedding Wing’s bedding consultant, and while that might seem like a good thing given their chemistry, it wasn’t.
Laura was an idealist. She believed in romance with her sex. Knights in shining armor, who rescued their damsels on white horses. She believed that fairy-tale weddings translated into happily-ever-afters.
She was exactly the kind of woman who usually shut off his libido like a spigot. Except that every time she smiled one of those breath-stalling smiles, his temperature shot to full-blast and all he could think about was his body tangling around hers beneath that cool silk hair.
Almost as if she knew he was mentally undressing her again, Laura gave him one of those smiles. Then she took off, leading her guests along the promenade, her graceful steps putting more and more distance between them and giving him an incredible shot of the way she moved, all elegant swaying and subtle energy.
Running a hand through his hair, Dale stared after her, wondering what it was about her smile that made every nerve in his body tingle. Tingle, damn it.
“Remind me again why you bothered bringing me along.” The demand in the accented voice jolted Dale from his thoughts enough to remember the woman beside him.
“Monique love, I brought you along to enjoy your company, of course,” he said automatically.
“Then