Her Naughty Holiday. Tiffany Reisz

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ little kissing made it a little less weird. You think a lot of kissing will make it a lot less weird?”

      “Stands to reason,” she said. “I mean, if you run the numbers, that adds up.”

      “So we should probably kiss some more, right?”

      “We should. Definitely.”

      “Definitely, she says. I like a definite woman.” He reached for her again but she stepped back, suddenly awkward again. She couldn’t get over thinking that this was Ruthie’s dad. Ruthie’s insanely sexy dad. Why did Ruthie have such a sexy dad? Work was going to be weird as heck next week.

      “Let me show you around the house first,” she said. “You know, since you’re supposed to be my boyfriend, you should probably know where the bathroom is.”

      “For a lot of reasons.”

      She showed him the living room and he admired the layout and the finish on her bamboo floors. In the kitchen he admired her box window. She would have showed him the deck but it was already pitch-black out and raining. That could wait until tomorrow. He liked the bathroom for the paint color and the nice fixtures. He actually said that—“nice fixtures.”

      “No one has complimented my fixtures before,” she said. “This is new.”

      “I like a lady who knows how to pick a faucet.”

      “Chrome is so dated,” she said. “Copper is classic.”

      “You are speaking my language. What’s upstairs?” he asked. His question sounded so innocent but something in his eyes looked quite devilish. She liked devilish.

      “Oh, another bathroom. Guest room. My bedroom.”

      “You have copper fixtures upstairs, too?” he asked.

      “Of course. I designed the whole place myself.”

      “I wouldn’t mind seeing the upstairs. You know, for the fixtures,” he said.

      “Right. The fixtures.”

      Clover took him up the steps—which he also admired for the fine grain of the cedar—and showed him her bathroom. He approved. She showed him the guest room. He also approved of that.

      “And here’s my room,” she said. “Kind of a small bed. Hope that’s okay. I can sleep in the guest—”

      Erick had walked to the bed while she was chatting away nervously and before she could get any more words out he’d turned around and fallen onto the bed on his back.

      Her full-size bed suddenly looked like a twin with Erick on it. He wallowed a little on the quilt, rolled left and rolled right, bounced once or twice, then sat up on his elbows and looked at her. She liked the look he gave her.

      “Comfy,” he said.

      “Good. As I was saying...you’re sort of, you know, big—”

      “Who have you been talking to?”

      “Stop. You know what I mean. You are tall and this is a small bed.”

      “I like small beds. You can’t hide from me in this bed.”

      She tucked a strand of hair that didn’t actually exist behind her ear.

      “What makes you think I want to hide from you?”

      “You’re wearing a bathrobe over a nightgown that’s got so much material to it I could make a schooner sail out of it. And you’re doing that grandma thing where you’re holding the lapels of your robe together like you’re afraid I’ll see your neck or some other unmentionable part of your body. It’s very cute, this shyness.”

      “I really want to be sexy and flirty with you, but if I ever knew how to do that, I’ve forgotten how.”

      “You are sexy.”

      “Not like you are.”

      He raised his eyebrows.

      “How am I sexy?” he asked. “And please, be specific.”

      “You’re very comfortable with yourself. I like that. I’m not as comfortable with myself.”

      “You’re comfortable with yourself at work.”

      “I am, but this isn’t work. And I don’t know you very well. Even though I know you really well. That made more sense in my head, I promise.”

      “You know me as Ruthie’s dad. That’s how you know me, and as dear old dad, you do know me well. Ruthie’s in LA right now and it’s just you and me. Now you get to know the other side of me that has absolutely nothing to do with my daughter even though it’s the reason she exists.”

      “I want to get to know that side of you. I want to get to know that side of me, too. But you know how it is, running your own business.”

      “Mine’s nothing like yours. I can pick my jobs, tell people no if they try to book me on a day I need to be at Ruthie’s school or something. Your place is open seven days a week, eight to eight, and I’ve never once gone there to drop off Ruthie or pick her up and not seen you there with your nose in a stack of invoices or with a trowel, a hose and a pair of hedge clippers in your hand. You work your ass off.”

      “It’s still there. I think.” She patted her backside. “Yup. I don’t work that hard.”

      “How long have you lived in this house?”

      “Um, two years and six months,” she said.

      “Where is everything?”

      “What?”

      “Where is everything? You have furniture and you have plants. I saw two books downstairs and those were on gardening. No art on the walls, no pets, no souvenirs from vacations anywhere. This place looks like a bed-and-breakfast. A nice bed-and-breakfast but not a home.”

      “I’m not here very often.”

      “Your office looks more like home than your home.”

      “It is my home.”

      “And that’s my point.” He sat up on the edge of the bed. “Your office is lived-in. It’s homey. You have pictures of your family on your desk and a stuffed puppy or something—”

      “That is a sock monkey. A pink sock monkey and his name is Alejandro. Your daughter gave him to me.”

      “Of course she did. You have a messy office. It looks like someone’s home. This house looks like you bought it yesterday turnkey and just brought a suitcase of clothes with you. Do you even have anything in your nightstand? A book? Chapstick? Vibrator?”

      She narrowed her eyes at him. He narrowed his eyes at her. Then he reached out and opened the nightstand drawer.

      “I knew СКАЧАТЬ