Marriage for Her Baby. Raye MorganЧитать онлайн книгу.
modern world wasn’t very open to living like a wild one. Very deliberately, she took a step backward, as if she could somehow make a move out of his sphere of suggestive influence by putting more space between them. It didn’t work, and she found herself smoothing back her sleek blond hair like a woman primping for an encounter.
Ouch!
She wasn’t going to do that. She was so far from being in the market for a flirtation, she hardly remembered what that would be like. She finally pulled her gaze away and shook her head.
“You’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do in there,” she noted.
“Not me,” he said decisively.
She frowned at him. “You can’t just leave it. You’re going to have to clean it sometime.”
“Are you kidding?” His sudden grin was a revelation. “I’m not going back in there.”
She gasped. “But …”
“I’ll just go and rent a new place and start over, armed with all I’ve learned from you.”
It took a moment to realize he was kidding. She shook her head, not sure what to make of him.
He was tall and hard and strong with a body that could have been chiseled from Carrara marble. That’s what he reminded her of—the gang at the Parthenon. A Greek god for heaven’s sake—with a face to match. His features were crisp and even—handsome in a hard, rough way. His eyes with their long, dark lashes had a sleepy, languorous expression. Very appealing.
But was there any warmth there? If there was, she couldn’t find it. Was he as cold as marble, too? All in all, he was gorgeous, but he was also a little bit scary.
He watched her with one dark eyebrow raised.
“Tell you what, let’s go down to the corner café. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
That startled her. She’d sworn off men a long time ago. The aggravation wasn’t worth the reward. She had other things in her life, things she valued. Besides, he might be a short-term renter in the house next to hers, but that didn’t mean they were destined to be bosom buddies. Not at all. She took his offer as a cue to begin to back away.
“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve got to …”
“Come on.” He touched her. It was just a gesture, just a quick, passing touch. He probably didn’t even notice when his fingertips softly slipped along her arm. But she did. It gave her a start and her breath was suddenly catching in her throat.
“Come on. I owe you one. You just did me a very big favor.”
“Well …” She was weakening. A part of her stood aside and watched this with exasperation. What on earth was she doing? But she snuck a look at her watch and realized she actually had plenty of time. She knew her baby would still be napping at her sister’s house for another half hour, at least. So … why not?
She glanced at him sideways. “Just for a few minutes,” she conceded.
“Good,” he said, sticking his hand out. “I’m Jake Martin. And I would guess that your name is Jill.”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head, wondering how he’d come up with her sister’s name, then she realized she was wearing Jill’s uniform shirt for doing the Sunshine Fund collecting. “Jill” was embroidered in big red letters right over the pocket. She laughed. “No, actually …”
“Come on, Jill,” he said, taking her hand. “Let’s go.”
Her heart seemed to roll over inside her. She glanced at his muscular chest and knew she was turning bright red.
“You’re going to need a shirt, aren’t you?” she noted breathlessly.
“Oh.” He stopped short and looked down at his lack of attire. “Hey, sorry. I hadn’t realized I was being so informal. I’ll grab something out of my car.”
He turned to do just that and she gasped softly as she noticed the purple scarring on his back, a picture of past pain and agony she hadn’t noticed before in all the commotion. She turned away and pretended not to watch as he pulled a dark blue T-shirt over that beautiful body.
“Listen, I left my papers and my purse in your house. I’m going to have to go in to get them.”
He groaned. “Okay. But I don’t want to see it. I’ll meet you out front.”
She made her way quickly through the mess, glad it wasn’t going to be her job to clean it up, grabbed her things and came out the front door to meet him. He smiled and took hold of her hand again and they were marching toward the coffee shop.
“I really like it here,” he told her, looking out at the gray-blue ocean that surrounded the Washington State island just across from Seattle where they lived—for the moment at least.
She liked it, too. In fact she planned to spend a long, long time here. That was why she was renovating her house to make room for raising Savannah, her nine-month-old baby.
A group of seagulls flew overhead, screaming in their usual argument. She looked down toward the other end of town. The ferry was coming in, bringing commuters home from their jobs in Seattle. Yes, this was where she wanted to be.
“Too bad I can’t stay,” Jake said, looking like he really did regret it.
“Where are you going instead?” she asked, just to make conversation.
He hesitated. “I’m not sure,” he told her, staring right down into her eyes. “I haven’t had time to think it through. But it will be somewhere different.” His smile was crooked. “It always is.”
She could see that he was telling her the truth. But he was outside his comfort zone at the moment. She wondered why.
They went into the little café and took a booth, sitting across from each other. Coffee, he’d said, and she wasn’t hungry, but she picked up the menu and began to peruse it, just to give herself something to do besides stare at him.
“You said you’d been living in a tent lately,” she reminded him, peeking around the menu. “What was that all about?”
“I’ve been in the military,” he said shortly, looking away as though it was something he didn’t want to talk about.
“As if that wasn’t obvious,” she muttered, glancing back at the menu.
“Why?” he said.
She shrugged. “There’s a military look about you,” she said.
He frowned and she looked away again. So he didn’t like the fact that she could see his military influence. Too bad. It was only obvious and she could have said more.
She could have mentioned that he had a noticeable restlessness in him, a sort of masculine urge to gaze at the horizon and wonder what might be out there. It was the sort of thing that made most women sigh with regret. He wasn’t the sort to be tied down by anyone. It was written all over him. You fell for a man like this and you were playing with fire.
“Iced tea, please,” she asked as the waitress stood poised, pad of paper in hand.
“Coffee for me,” he said. “Black. And two pieces of cherry pie. Á la mode.”
She looked at him and held back her smile. “You must be really hungry,” she said.
“No. But I can see that you are,” he shot back. Then he grinned and that took all the sting out of it. “You’ll love the pie here,” he said. “Trust me.”
Trust him. That was just what she was having a bit of problem doing. And where did he get off telling her what the pie was like in her own little café? That did it. She’d known she should have rejected his offer from the first. The man was obviously insufferable.
But he was also right. The pie was great. She