Under Her Skin. Susan Mallery

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ air. She greeted staff members as she passed them in the hall. Jeannie, on her way to give a facial, seemed ready to collapse under the weight of a couple dozen towels.

      “You all right?” Lexi asked, grabbing an armful.

      Jeannie straightened. “Thanks. Mrs. Miller is coming in and she has this thing about wanting extra towels in the room. She doesn’t use them—she just wants them where she can see them.”

      Mrs. Miller was a regular. Weekly manicures, bi-weekly pedicures and facials, massages. Fake tan in the summer.

      “Better extra towels than a yappy dog that pees everywhere,” Lexi told her with a grin.

      “Oh, but then at least the towels would get used.” Jeannie laughed then ducked into one of the treatment rooms.

      Lexi continued toward the main entrance, passing through the relaxation room. Three sofas and several overstuffed chairs filled the area. Women in thick robes sat with mugs of herbal tea as they either waited for their treatments or enjoyed a little quiet time after they were done. Soothing music played in the background while a junior staff member offered magazines and cut fruit.

      Lexi paused to glance back at the long corridor. Nearly all the treatment room doors were closed, with discreet “occupied” signs hanging next to them. It was midweek and they were nearly at capacity. If nothing else, at least her business life was going well.

      Cruz stood by the check-in desk. He should have looked out of place. Instead he lounged by a glass case filled with cosmetics and appeared completely comfortable, in a sexy, masculine way. Every female eyed him with a curiosity that did more than undress him. It served him up for breakfast and demanded they do it again.

      Lexi found herself feeling oddly possessive, which was crazy. She should only want to yell at him for what he’d done with the announcement.

      He looked up and saw her, then smiled with such pleasure that her entire nervous system tingled.

      “Lexi,” he said as he approached, taking both her hands in his and lightly kissing her. He pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, “If you keep looking at me like you want to see me as roadkill, no one is going to believe we’re engaged.”

      “Well then, they really won’t believe it after I take you to the woodshed and beat some sense into you,” she said back, keeping her voice low.

      He straightened and grinned. “I look forward to you trying.” He released one hand and tugged on the other. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

      She allowed him to lead her outside.

      The sun was bright and high in the big, blue sky. She had to shade her eyes to see the parking lot. At first she didn’t notice anything different. There were the usual assortment of guest cars, most of which were expensive imports that…

      Her gaze settled on a silver-blue Mercedes. She recognized the car and the color because both had been special-ordered for her birthday, and her father had been very unhappy when she’d explained the vehicle had been lost. In truth, Jed had been more angry that she hadn’t won the race than that she’d virtually given away an expensive car. He’d reminded her that if she was going to be stupid, she needed to learn to be tough.

      Her anger at Cruz faded as she approached the car. It couldn’t be the same one. Not after ten years. Could it? Had he really kept her car all this time?

      “Seriously?” she asked, glancing at him.

      He shrugged. “Sure. I gave it to my housekeeper to drive. I got her something new, so you can have this back.”

      Okay. So much for feeling special.

      She opened the driver’s side door and slid onto the seat. Everything was exactly as she remembered. She rubbed her hands along the steering wheel then turned to look—

      A small Tiffany’s box sat on the passenger seat. It was square and the right size for a ring. An engagement ring.

      Because they were engaged now.

      Lexi stared at the box. When she’d been a preteen, she’d spent hours daydreaming about falling in love and getting married. She’d imagined this moment over and over. Sometimes the faceless man of her dreams had proposed over dinner at the top of a tall building in a dark restaurant with candles everywhere. Sometimes it was on the beach, at sunset, or in Paris. But never had it been by a casually placed box left on the passenger seat of an old car.

      “Open it,” he said.

      She did and stared at the cushion-cut stone. Three carats, she would guess, with another carat or so of smaller stones on the shank. Flawless. Perfect. And without any meaning at all.

      She took the ring out of the box, then stepped from the car.

      “Put it on,” he told her.

      She would. In a second. When the disappointment wasn’t quite so sharp and pressing.

      It was a deal, she reminded herself. Just a business transaction. This wasn’t about her girlish dreams or falling in love or any of those things. The romance would come later…with someone else.

      She slid the ring on. It fit perfectly.

      “Thank you,” she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. Not that she could tell what he was thinking. “It’s beautiful.”

      “It suits you.” He studied her hand. “You can keep it. After.”

      After the six months were over. “Traditionally the woman is supposed to return the ring unless the groom-to-be breaks the engagement or cheats. At least I think that’s how it goes.”

      He grinned. “Already forgetting those fancy lessons on manners?”

      “Some. As a kid I spent a few weeks every summer with my mother. The visits were more like classes than anything else. Plenty of instruction.” Lots of coldness. Her mother hadn’t been especially cruel or unkind, she just didn’t believe in displaying affection or coddling, as she called it. Hugs were unnecessary in her world.

      “Skye spent a couple of years in a Swiss finishing school,” she continued. “She would know for sure. You could ask her.”

      “No, thanks.” He took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb over the ring. “You can keep the car, too. Sell it.”

      “Give it to my housekeeper?” she asked.

      “Sure.”

      “I don’t have one.” She pulled her hand free, mostly because the feel of his skin on hers was too distracting and she needed to be able to think. “Why did you put the notice in the paper?” she asked.

      He shoved his hands into his front pockets. “I wanted to get things moving along. You’d cashed the check. Why wait?”

      “You thought I might back out on our deal. I wouldn’t do that.”

      “I didn’t think that.”

      He had to. Why else would he be in such a hurry to tell the world they were engaged?

      “What СКАЧАТЬ