Biding Her Time. Wendy Warren

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СКАЧАТЬ sliding the chair in for her.

      Her plan to continue their verbal swordplay at lunch seemed overly ambitious now. One whiff of Shane’s light cologne tangled her thoughts.

      Geez, Audrey, he’s just a guy.

      “How old are Brent’s daughters?” Shane asked as he took his own seat.

      “Eight.” Thomas boomed the answer like a proud grandfather, earning a look of affection from his wife. “My favorite age.”

      “Hey, you told me thirty-one was your favorite age.” Melanie needled, her eyes laughing at her father. “Dad pretends I’m still his favorite,” she said to Shane and Audrey, “but you can’t compete with grandchildren.”

      Thomas and Jenna both demurred, but abashedly. “The twins have needed more attention since their mother’s passing,” Jenna admitted with a sigh. “I think sometimes we’re guilty of spoiling them.”

      “We were all sorry to hear about Brent’s wife. I know my mother wished she could help. Being so far away, it was hard to know what to do.”

      Shane’s deep, accented voice fell on the room like cotton, soft but substantial, changing the mood. Audrey saw Jenna and Melanie glance immediately to Thomas and sensed that Shane had just apologized for something more than not knowing what to do when Brent’s wife died.

      Audrey had heard through the Quest grapevine that Thomas and his brother David had been estranged for years. One brother made his mark on horse racing in the United States; the other had staked his claim thousands of miles away in Australia, operating a horseracing stable there. Recently the frayed edges of the family had been knitted together when Thomas and Jenna attended some huge shindig in Australia. Knowing Jenna, Audrey figured Shane had been heartily invited to Quest.

      “Nothing to do,” Thomas answered his nephew gruffly. “Even if things had been different between me and your father, there wasn’t anything anyone could do to make losing our daughter-in-law easier on Brent or the girls.”

      Shane inclined his head respectfully. Audrey thought his careful inspection of Thomas was quite telling. He addressed his uncle deferentially, watching him closely, and yet she knew with a certainty that surprised her that Shane Preston did not defer to many people. Perhaps he was here on a peacemaking mission for his branch of the family?

      Drawing circles in the moisture on her water goblet, she waited uncomfortably as the silence extended. Jenna seemed unusually quiet and contemplative; Thomas’s lower lip jutted out as he broke the Parker House roll on his bread plate; Melanie was clearly thinking about something that had nothing to do with anyone at the table; and Shane…

      She angled her head to take a look at him. Still concentrating on Thomas, he felt Audrey’s gaze and turned slowly. Raising one thick brow the color of honey, he managed to look both challenging and amused without moving a single other part of his face.

      Somehow she didn’t feel embarrassed for being caught staring. She knew he was off-limits, but that didn’t stop the heat that twined through her veins. Curiously, she took stock of her feelings.

      Excited? Check.

      Feeling daring? Check.

      Physically aroused? That would be a double check.

      At twenty-four, she had slept with two men, which placed her far behind her peers in terms of practical experience, to say nothing of the fact that she had never been in love. She’d had a terrifyingly large crush once on Robbie Preston, the youngest and most breathtakingly reckless of Thomas and Jenna’s four offspring, but that had gone the way of other youthful fantasies.

      Shane resembled the two men who had been her lovers…not in the slightest, actually. They’d been studious, sweet, tame. So had the sex, though she had only her own imagination and a couple of books for comparison. But it had seemed tame. Memorable mostly for its newness.

      As the meal was served, Shane turned his head to answer some question that Jenna raised, and Audrey studied his profile.

      Recalling his presence in the bar, how he had stood out from the others, she doubted any woman would ever call him tame. If last night had turned out differently—if he hadn’t been with another woman, but instead had shown a serious interest in her—would she have ditched caution and made a dive for excitement?

      She stared at his hands—large and strong with clean nails—as he reached for a water goblet and she had a sudden image of those big, experienced, untamed hands on her breasts.

      Beneath the confines of a rather sturdy cotton bra, her nipples tightened.

      For Pete’s sake.

      Transferring her gaze to the salt and pepper shakers, she tried to distract her body. But the question persisted: had the opportunity presented itself, would she have seized the moment? One incredibly sexy, lusty moment the likes of which she’d never before experienced and might never again?

      Would you, Audrey?

      I don’t know.

      Would you?

      I—don’t—know.

      Would you?

      “Would you?”

      “Yes! Yes!” In the silence that met her exclamation, Audrey glanced around the table. Uh-oh.

      Fairly certain that last “Would you?” had emanated from somewhere other than her own thoughts, she looked up to see Eva Franklin, the Prestons’ brilliant cook, standing beside her. In a much smaller voice, Audrey said, “Could you repeat the question?”

      “Would you like mango hollandaise, Miss Audrey?” Poor Eva looked uncertain, poised to ladle a thick peach-colored sauce atop the plate of salmon Audrey hadn’t even noticed being set in front of her. The deep spoon of sauce hovered precariously between gravy boat and plate.

      Smiling brilliantly at the kind, middle-aged woman, Audrey tried to cover her tracks by nodding enthusiastically. “Yes! Yes! I would!”

      Eva smiled back and covered the fish in a thick film of mango hollandaise. Melanie regarded Audrey quizzically from across the table, while beside her, Shane smirked.

      As Eva moved on around the table, Shane inquired in a wiseass undertone, “Are you a fan of all tropical fruits, Miss Griffin, or is the mango a particular favorite?”

      His smile mocked her. She had the incredibly disturbing sensation that he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.

      Picking up her fork, she took a poke at her salmon. “I try not to discriminate against produce.”

      “Commendable. I’m a staunch supporter of the kiwi myself. Try to attend all the rallies, go door-to-door for the cause when necessary.”

      Such a wiseass.

      “That sounds time-consuming. What do you do for a living? No! Don’t tell me. I’ll guess.”

      Giving him a good long look, as if he wasn’t already an indelible imprint on her brain, she ventured, “You’re an… undertaker.”

      Jenna gasped. Thomas СКАЧАТЬ