Cinderella and the Playboy / The Texan's Happily-Ever-After: Cinderella and the Playboy / The Texas Billionaire's Baby. Lois Dyer Faye

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      The bed dipped under his weight, rolling Jennifer toward him. He grinned and caught her, tugging the sheet lower until she was bare from her tousled hair to her belly button.

      Chance’s head bent and he trailed his lips over the upper curve of her breasts. “Mmm,” he muttered. “You taste as good as you look.”

      Jennifer buried her fingers in the silky thickness of his hair, cradling his head to hold him close as her eyelids drifted closed.

      “If we’re going out, I have to shower and get dressed,” she protested drowsily, smiling as he growled in protest. She closed her fingers into fists and tugged his hair, the strands sliding like rough black silk against her fingertips and palms.

      Reluctantly, he obeyed her silent demand and lifted his head to look down at her. “We could skip going out and order in—eat Chinese food in bed,” he suggested.

      “No.” She laughed softly. “I’m starving and those chocolate crepes sound wonderful.” And she wanted to see a bit more of the pieces of his day-to-day life. The need to know him better, to learn more about the man behind the handsome face and powerful male body, grew stronger with each moment she spent in his company.

      “All right,” he grumbled good-naturedly, his hands trailing over her midriff as he rolled onto his side, releasing her so she could slide out of bed. “We’ll take Butch for a walk and get brunch at the café. Then we’ll come back and pick up where we’re leaving off. Deal?”

      “Deal.” She flashed him a sassy grin, caught up the pile of clothing from the foot of the bed and slipped into the bathroom. For a moment, she leaned back against the door, eyes closed, a smile on her lips while she reveled in the sheer happiness bubbling through her veins.

      A half hour later, Jennifer had showered, pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, smoothed on the lipstick and mascara she’d tucked into her evening bag the night before, and was dressed. She paused to run a quick, assessing glance over her reflection in the long mirrors bracketing the door.

      The pale pink silk slacks fit well except for being a trifle short in the leg, the hem hitting her at her anklebone. Which is actually a good thing, she thought, since if the designer label slacks had been longer, she would have surely tripped over them while wearing the strappy red heels. The white silk tank top was snug and since she didn’t have a bra to wear, she’d pulled on a clean white shirt from Chance’s closet. It was much too big, of course, but after rolling the sleeves to her elbow, she decided it worked well enough to conceal her braless state.

      In fact, she thought, turning to look over her shoulder at her back view, the outfit was rather chic. The slim-cut slacks hugged her thighs below the hem of the loose white shirt, and the red heels added a touch of Vogue-model fashion to the outfit.

      Thanks to Chance’s mother leaving clothes in his guestroom, Jennifer reflected, she was reasonably covered. She’d had a few qualms about the clothing, suspecting it might have really belonged to one of Chance’s girlfriends. But the silk slacks and tank top had a small label with “A. Demetrios” beautifully embroidered in blue and gold thread. Chance had mentioned his parents, John and Anastasia, and Jennifer was confident the “A. Demetrios” was surely his mother.

      She left the bathroom, a spring to her step, and went searching for Chance. She found him in the kitchen, reading a newspaper spread out over the island countertop.

      “Hey.” He looked up when she entered, his eyes lighting up as he swept her from head to toe and back again.

      “Hi.” Suddenly self-conscious under his intent stare, she glanced down. “I’m glad your mother left her slacks and top here. Are you sure she won’t mind my borrowing them?”

      “I’m positive,” he told her, abandoning the paper on the counter. He reached her in two long strides and wrapped her close, pressing a quick, hard kiss against her mouth. When he lifted his lips from hers, his eyes were molten. “And if we don’t leave the house right now, I’m going to carry you back upstairs. Come on. Let’s feed you. You’re going to need energy when we get home.”

      He released her, threaded her fingers through his, and tugged her after him toward the front door.

      “Come on, Butch.”

      The big dog obeyed Chance’s command with enthusiasm, pushing past them to race down the hall and wait just inside the front door.

      Chance took a leash from a peg on the antique coatrack and clipped it onto Butch’s collar, then pulled open the heavy oak door.

      Jennifer stepped outside, relishing the balmy air and the quick warmth of sunlight on her bare forearms.

      Chance locked the door behind them, pocketing the keys before catching Jennifer’s hand in his, and with Butch leading the way at the end of the leash, they set off down the street.

      “I love your neighborhood,” Jennifer told him, taking in the neat facades of town houses and bright flowers filling window boxes. She tilted her face up and spring sunshine warmed her cheeks, filtered through tree leaves.

      “Good morning.”

      The friendly greeting drew Jennifer’s attention and she smiled hello at the young couple passing by, pushing a stroller with a little boy that babbled excitedly, hands outstretched to Butch.

      “Good morning.” Chance nodded at the couple, letting the little boy pat Butch on the nose, then pulling the big dog away before he could lick the toddler’s face.

      “Who was that?” Jennifer asked, curious.

      “The Carmichaels.” Chance expertly steered Butch around a trio of giggling schoolgirls in jeans and sandals walking toward them, three abreast on the sidewalk. “They moved into the house two doors down from me just before their little boy was born. I met them when I was out walking Butch.”

      “Butch seems to be a great ice breaker,” Jennifer commented. “You must meet a lot of people when they stop to pet him.”

      “Yeah, I do.” He grinned at her and tugged her nearer, releasing her hand to sling an arm over her shoulder and tuck her close. Their hips bumped companionably as they walked. “Nobody can resist a big, friendly dog.”

      Jennifer privately thought it was probably the combination of Butch’s friendliness and Chance’s charm.

      “Here we are.” Chance drew Jennifer to a halt outside a small restaurant. “Do you mind sitting outside? I can’t take Butch inside.”

      He nodded at the area to their right. Several round wrought-iron tables with colorful red and white umbrellas shading their chairs were clustered along the front of the café, the uneven line two tables deep. Just then a patron exited, the café’s open door releasing a waft of aroma that was mouthwatering.

      “Yes, let’s.” Jennifer drew in a deep breath. “It smells fabulous. I can’t believe anyone has the willpower to walk by and not stop to eat.”

      Chance bent to brush his lips against her ear. “The food’s great but it doesn’t taste as good as you.”

      Jennifer shivered with awareness and felt her skin warm.

      His arm tightened in a brief hug before he released her and pulled out a chair at an empty table СКАЧАТЬ