Second Honeymoon. Laura Abbot
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Название: Second Honeymoon
Автор: Laura Abbot
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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Ticked? He bet she was. He could just picture her grilling every last kid in the class about him. Probably called him a miscreant, another one of her fancy-shmancy words.
“I’m waiting,” Bozo barked.
Slowly, Justin stood up, slung his backpack over his shoulder and opened the stall door.
Bozo glared at him. “Follow me, son. We’re going to my office for a little chat. I just may have to call your parents.”
Jeez, not the chamber of horrors. That was what all the kids called Mr. Harris’s office. Nothing good went down there, that was for sure. Justin grasped at his last straw. “My parents are out of town.”
Bozo stopped and laid a firm hand on Justin’s shoulder. “I doubt they left you all by yourself.” He raised an eyebrow as if he could see straight into Justin’s brain.
Justin tried a new tack. “No, sir.” The “sir” business couldn’t hurt.
“Well?” Bozo increased the pressure on Justin’s shoulder.
“My grandparents are staying with me and my sister.”
Mr. Harris resumed his drill-sergeant march toward the office. “They’ll do.”
Justin’s insides turned to mush. “Do you have to call them?”
Bozo smiled in that smug way of his. “We’ll see about that, Harper. But it’s a distinct possibility.”
BECAUSE OF DENVER TRAFFIC, it was late afternoon by the time Scott and Meg reached the cabin. When Scott stepped out of the rental car, the clean mountain air, redolent of pine, served as a powerful pick-me-up. Overhead, the sun was sinking behind the peaks, and surrounding him was silence, broken only by the gentle tumble of a mountain stream flowing behind the cabin. He drew a deep breath, and for the first time in a long while, felt his muscles relax.
“Are you going to stand there all day?”
He turned toward Meg, who waited by the trunk of the car, her arms folded across her chest. He was inclined to say, “So what if I do?” but thought better of it. Meg had made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t happy to be there. At least not alone with him.
He pressed the button on his key chain to open the trunk, then pulled out their bags.
Meg eyed the log cabin with its deep front porch. “Do you think it’s the same one?”
“Seems familiar.”
“All the cabins look alike. I guess it doesn’t matter.” She grabbed her overnight bag out of his hand. “I’ll take that.”
Toting the two larger suitcases, he followed her onto the porch and fumbled in his pocket for the key. When the door swung open, he winced, recalling his insistence twenty years ago that he carry his bride over the threshold. Then another memory swept through him. That day the bags had been left on the porch, forgotten. He’d taken her directly to the bedroom where he’d hurriedly undressed her, shed his own clothes and made love to her beneath the goose-down comforter, not caring that they hadn’t turned on the heater. They’d created their own warmth with the delicious friction of skin on skin, with kisses hot and passionate and an abandon born of impatience.
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