My Fair Gentleman. Jan Freed
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Название: My Fair Gentleman
Автор: Jan Freed
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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He cocked a brow.
“My father,” she said.
“I see.” His rapidly cooling stare sent a shiver down her spine. “So your boyfriend went slumming for a lowlife sure to flunk and picked me?”
It sounded awful put that way. She peeled at the sodden label on her beer bottle. “Please don’t be offended. Carl is very competitive. He hates to lose. And let’s face it, you were mooning the ceiling when he picked you.”
Joe’s hooded gaze never wavered. “Just out of curiosity, what do you get for winning?”
“If I win, Carl has agreed to finance my private practice until I develop a clientele.” She read his unspoken question and shrugged. “The Hamiltons may have impeccable breeding and a history of academic brilliance—but they have no head for managing money.”
Glancing toward the bar, Joe twisted his mouth. “I take it Pretty Boy doesn’t think you can turn a sandlot player into a major-league all-star. What does he get for winning?”
“Stop calling him that.”
“Pretty? Or Boy?”
He wanted sarcasm? Fine. “Carl gets a pedigreed hostess for his parties. Someone who’ll dote on him and his children, instead of her career.”
“You mean he’ll get a slave, while you give up your dream.”
“No, he’ll get a wife, whether I establish a practice or become a stay-at-home mom. When it comes to family, Carl and I have the same dream, the same values. Once I win, he’ll see that my personal obligations won’t suffer for my career.”
Joe snorted and shook his head.
“Are you married?” she asked bluntly.
“No.” His expression grew shuttered.
“Sounds like you don’t think too highly of the institution.”
“Since my wife died, I don’t think about it at all if I can help it. Can we get back to the point, here?”
Embarrassment held her mute. He obviously still grieved for his wife, and she’d intruded on his privacy.
“Earth to Catherine,” he drawled as if addressing an airhead.
Her sympathy vanished. “The point is, I need your help, and you admitted you’re at loose ends right now. So will you do it?”
He looked off into space for so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“And just what do I get for helping you win your bet?” he asked, his keen gaze sliding back to hers.
Her mind went blank. “Well, let’s see…” She hadn’t prepared beyond his acceptance. “What do you want?”
Joe drained his bottle of beer in two gulps, wiped his mouth with the back of one hand and delivered a volcanic burp.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
THE BURP WAS a nice touch, Joe thought, watching Catherine’s opinion of him dip lower than a sinker ball. The disgusted fascination on her face might’ve been funny—if it wasn’t so damned insulting.
That was how shrinks were of course. Arrogant sons of bitches, playing God with people’s lives. He’d wised up to their crap long ago and sworn to handle problems his way. Not that he’d done such a hot job.
Catherine drummed her short nails on the table. “Well? What do you want?”
He narrowed his eyes, his guilt converting into a more tolerable emotion. “I’m thinking.”
Wouldn’t he just love telling her exactly where to put her high-and-mighty bet? Except that her proposition might be the break he needed. His chance to secure Allie’s future. To make amends. He’d be a fool not to explore his options.
But he could sure as hell make the woman squirm first.
“Before we take this any farther, doll, I need you to fill in some gaps for me.” Noting her flinch at the word “doll,” he slouched back and scratched his belly for good measure.
She watched his fingers with a distracted frown. “Gaps?”
“Yeah. Like what you mean by ‘tutoring.’ And what the terms are for winning or losing this bet. Minor stuff like that.” He crossed his arms with a deliberate flex of muscles.
“Oh. Well…” Her gaze lit briefly on his biceps and fluttered away. Then drifted back.
His slouch slowly straightened.
“First I would evaluate your social skills to see which ones need polishing…” Her stare grew languid, sliding as softly as a chamois cloth over his throat. His chest. His abdomen.
Lord have mercy.
“Second I would schedule lessons in those areas where you seem to be lacking—” her gaze moved lower, stopped, and rose swiftly to focus somewhere over his shoulder “—n-not that you are lacking. Anywhere. Th-that is, I’ll have to look harder—I m-mean longer…” A mottled flush crept up her neck. “What I mean is, I’ll have to analyze you further before developing a specific tutorial plan,” she finished primly.
Joe managed a stunned grunt. Vowing to use his little black book soon, he willed the blood back into his brain. “So how long will all this tutoring take?”
Relief flooded her face. “Carl’s parents are hosting an engagement party at the end of June. My father is flying in from London to attend. That gives us a little over four weeks to get you ready.”
“For what?”
“For the party. That’s where Father will meet you.”
“What about your mother?”
Some indefinable emotion flickered in her eyes. “Mother…died when I was very young.” She leaned forward, her manner brisk and professional once more. “You’ll be introduced as a fictional member of a prominent East Coast family. If neither my father nor any of the guests discover your deception by midnight, Carl will concede victory to us.”
Too weird. “How many drinks did you two have before cooking up this bet?”
“One glass of brandy,” she said, taking him literally. “But I assure you we’re both very sober.”
No kidding. They’d turned a lovers’ spat into cold contract negotiations for spouse job descriptions. And maybe that was smart. He sure as hell knew impulse marriages were dumb.
Joe lifted СКАЧАТЬ