The Third Kiss. Leanna Wilson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ nodded but didn’t open her eyes. Reluctant to leave, he hovered near the doorway until her breathing fell into the rhythm of sleep. A constriction cut off his own oxygen supply. She was all he had. All he’d ever had. She’d raised him, loved him when his parents had been too busy trekking around the world, spending money as if it was grown on trees and forgetting they had a family business to run and a son to raise. So his grandmother had stepped in to care for him. Now he’d do anything…anything…for her.

      Anything, huh?

      Would he be willing to make her last wish come true? With that simple question, an outrageous plan locked into place. Why not? Why couldn’t he do this one thing for her, when she’d sacrificed so much for him? She’d taken time away from her beloved Linc to raise him, going to all his baseball games, tennis matches and golf tournaments. Why couldn’t he make this one sacrifice for her? After all, it wouldn’t have to be forever. Only until…

      He winced at that thought. He couldn’t think of her dying. But he could concentrate on making his grandmother the happiest woman alive. If that was her last wish, then, by God, he’d see that she had it. He’d find himself a bride. A temporary bride.

      But who?

      His mind clicked into gear, keeping pace with each clunk of his boot heels against the linoleum floor as he strode back down the hallway toward the elevator. It didn’t take long for him to land on a possibility. His only possibility.

      The only thing that would make my mother happy is if I showed up with a husband. Brooke Watson’s words came back to him full force.

      Of course. She’s the one!

      She had incentive. Just as he did.

      But she hadn’t lunged for his wallet. So maybe she’d be willing to give him his ring back after a short, fake engagement, the way she’d given away all his prizes.

      He congratulated himself on a fine plan. This would be a piece of cake. A piece of wedding cake!

      “Why don’t we read this book together, Jeffrey?” Brooke kept her voice upbeat even when she felt defeated once more by this reticent five-year-old.

      He kept his head bent, never looking up, never responding. A shock of brown hair fell across his forehead, and she smoothed it back. At least he no longer flinched.

      “This is one of my favorites. Have you ever read it?” She continued talking, though she felt as if she was talking to a brick wall.

      But she didn’t stop. She plowed ahead, opening the book, showing him the pages. If he would only look up enough to see the bright, colorful carnival pictures of cotton candy, popcorn and clowns. She’d just reached the second page when a shadow crossed the book. With a sigh she stopped. Was it already time for her to leave?

      Expecting to see the prim and stoic Mrs. Morris who ran the orphanage, she glanced up and felt the breath knock out of her lungs. “What do you want?”

      Matt Cutter gave her that charming grin she was sure had made many women swoon. But not her. He didn’t faze her in the least. Not even those navy-blue eyes that seemed deeper than the ocean and as full of as many mysteries. She refused to notice the way his starched white shirt emphasized his tan or the way his faded jeans fit a tad too snugly, causing a heat flash inside her.

      “I came to see you.” His deep, sexy voice made the back of her neck tingle.

      She closed the book. What did he want now? She’d taken enough grief from friends and co-workers the past couple of days to keep her permanently out of the limelight. It was all Matt’s fault. Men like him were trouble. Pure and simple. “How’d you find me?”

      “It’s not a secret that you come here every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, is it?”

      “No, but—”

      “Good, then your secretary isn’t in trouble.” He swiveled a kid-size chair toward him on its legs and settled into it as if it were as comfortable as a leather recliner. He stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles, the toes of his custom black boots pointing toward the ceiling.

      Irritation sparked inside her. How would he like someone barging into one of his high-powered business meetings? “I’m in the middle of a session.”

      “Hey, cowboy,” Matt addressed Jeffrey. “How are you?”

      Her attention snapped toward the little boy who stared at Matt like he was Paul Bunyan reincarnated.

      But he wasn’t. He was a wealthy business owner. He’d franchised his family’s store, taken it nationwide, diversified Cutter’s assets and branched out beyond Stetsons and Ropers to retail clothes, fast food and oil. He bought and sold companies like most people borrowed books from the library. His rate of return with women was, according to the tabloids, even faster.

      And here he was at a little, out-of-the-way orphanage, concentrating on a five-year-old as if he was about to make a business deal. “Do you mind my interrupting you and Dr. Watson for a minute?”

      Brooke caught a small, almost indiscernible, shake of the little boy’s head. But it was there! She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t witnessed it. Her heartbeat kicked up its pace.

      Unbelievable! She’d been working with Jeffrey for over six months and there had been only minuscule improvements. Most of her colleagues would have given up by now. Then Matt Cutter waltzes in the room and the kid merely acts shy, instead of traumatized. What was it about the famous cowboy? Who was he…Prince Charming in a Stetson?

      That was dangerous thinking, even if she didn’t want a Prince Charming. And she didn’t.

      Women acted as if he was Tom Cruise or something, swarming around him, fawning over him, buying up any newspapers, magazines or tabloids that printed his picture. Well, she didn’t get it. Maybe that’s why she was more irritated than delighted at Jeffrey’s tiny response.

      “What are y’all reading?” Matt asked, disturbing her thoughts even more as he turned the book over on her lap and brushed his hand against her thigh. A jolt of electricity coursed through her. “Hmm. Looks interesting. But carnivals and circuses are for little kids. Not big boys like you.”

      Annoyance nettled inside her, especially when she saw Jeffrey’s eyes widen.

      “I’ve got a book at home, cowboy, that I bet you’d like. It’s about cowboys and horses. Would you like me to bring it sometime for you to read?”

      Again, the little boy gave a microscopic indication that he would.

      Amazed, Brooke wondered what magic Matt had woven in the few moments he’d been here. She stared at him, bewildered and confounded, but also impressed and baffled. This showed progress. And gave her hope for the little boy. But how had Matt accomplished so much in so little time?

      Catching sight of Mrs. Morris walking the periphery of the rec room, wearing her brightly colored quilted vest, Brooke leaned toward the little boy. “Jeffrey, it’s time for me to go, but I’ll be back in a couple of days. Okay?”

      No response. Frustration returned full force.

      Trying to remain positive, she touched his shoulder lightly. “I’ll bring СКАЧАТЬ