Suiteheart Of A Deal: Suiteheart Of A Deal / My Place Or Yours?. Wendy Etherington

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      His thoughts drifted to Francine. Should he tell Rainey about her? Last spring they had gone out exactly three times—twice to dinner and once to a movie. Six whole months had passed and she was still bitter about their “breakup.” What Beck didn’t understand was, how could they have broken up when they never got together in the first place? They had nothing in common and couldn’t dredge up enough conversation to get through a meal. Why, they hadn’t even…

      Anyway, maybe he should just leave it alone for now. Francine was smart and sensible. She’d come around eventually.

      Another thing he wasn’t about to tell Rainey: that despite his reputation he hadn’t gotten down to business with any woman for nearly two years. He was hungry for a woman’s touch, her taste, her scent. But not just any woman…

      Lord knew it wasn’t for lack of opportunity. It was just that…hell, there just wasn’t anybody he wanted to be with. Meaningless, short-term stuff. Man, he was tired of that routine. The mindless chitchat over dinner. The slow buildup to the big question: So, when do you get your inheritance, Beck? And by the way, exactly how much money is it? Not that I’m interested, or anything.

      And then, worst of all, the hurried, halfhearted sex that left him wanting more. What more he wasn’t exactly sure—but there had to be something more.

      The last of his whiskers shed, Beck washed his still-bloody face, rinsed the razor and put it away. Whistling, he raked a comb through his hair and donned a pair of clean khakis and a turtleneck sweater. Satisfied that he was at least passably presentable, even with the goofy tissue paper, he stepped into the hall.

      And came face-to-face with an angel.

      Grimacing and wringing her hands, Rainey stood before him in a long green linen dress. Sleeveless and collarless, it fell in a straight line from her slender shoulders to the tops of her thin-strapped black sandals. From there it was slit up both sides to her bare knees. A black enamel pin and a slender black bracelet completed the ensemble.

      “Wow!” he exclaimed.

      “Oh, Beck.” Her expression was tortured. “Do you think it’s okay? I mean, it’s really a summer dress…”

      “I think it’s more than okay,” he confirmed with an appreciative nod. “I think it’s spectacular.”

      “Oh, Beck.” She managed a small smile. Her hair shone and her lips glistened with a pale-pink glossiness. Despite her anxiety, she had a girlish glow on. It was just about the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

      Before he could stop them, his eyes took a good long look at the swelling of those more-than-generous breasts beneath the pale green sheath, and the graceful curves leading down to those luscious hips. He had no trouble picturing her without the dress. No trouble at all.

      Restraint, he silently reminded himself. Restraint, Beck.

      “You look wonderful, too,” she said sweetly.

      Beck eyed her suspiciously. In the past three days she had swung all the way from snarling at him to almost treating him like a human being. What was going on?

      The doorbell sounded and he winked at her. “It’s show time!” Rainey took a sharp breath and expelled it slowly.

      “Beck, darling,” his tiny, feisty grandmother chirped as he let her into the apartment, “you’re as handsome as ever!” As usual, she was overdressed and over-coifed, her mauve suit, pink shoes and blue-tinted hair a medley of clashing pastels.

      “Thanks, Grandma,” he said as she brushed past him and made a beeline straight for Rainey. Smiling as sweetly as only a crafty old lady can smile, she held out her jeweled hands and clasped the sides of Rainey’s bare arms. “Why, aren’t you just the prettiest thing!”

      Rainey beamed—and relaxed. “Thank you.”

      “I’m delighted to meet you at last. Your aunt Lilly always said such nice things about you. I can see now that she wasn’t exaggerating.” With that, her watery eyes clouded over with sadness. “Oh, I miss her so much,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “A stroke. And she was only eighty-four. It’s tragic.”

      Beck rolled his eyes. He loved his grandmother, but her penchant for melodrama bordered on being insufferable.

      Rainey, immediately smitten, murmured, “I miss her, too, Mrs. Mahoney.”

      Old Flo pursed her lips. “Oh, please. Call me Flo. We don’t need formalities here.”

      “Oh, I couldn’t do that!” Rainey cried. “It wouldn’t be right.”

      Flo’s frown quickly gave way to a sugary smile. “Well now, isn’t that just the mark of a well-raised young lady. I’ll tell you what. Call me Grandma then.” She flashed Beck a disgusted look. “These Mahoney boys, they just don’t seem to be able to produce girls. It will be a pleasure to have you as my granddaughter.”

      Beck nearly gagged. “Tea, ladies?”

      “Only if there’s a little gin to go with it,” his grandmother replied as she and Rainey moved into the living room.

      Beck sauntered into the kitchen and looked around for the kettle. Dammit, where had Rainey put the stupid thing? If they couldn’t manage a pot of tea, how were they going to manage a marriage and a renovation?

      After a tedious search, he finally found it, along with the tea bags. Standing at the sink, he overheard the women chatting amiably about the weather, and Rainey’s dress—so flattering!—and her new responsibilities. And, of course, the Women of the Wapiti. Rainey simply would have to join the club as soon as possible. They needed some young blood.

      Leaning against the counter, Beck took a deep breath. Good Lord, how were they going to broach the subject of the marriage? And how about that five-day engagement, huh? Hell, in Flo’s day, two years were considered scandalous. No doubt about it, the old girl was going to be appalled. Not to mention highly suspicious. After all, she was the trustee. She controlled the cash—and Beck along with it.

      As the kettle began to whistle, his conscience finally kicked in. Man alive, how could he lie to his own grandmother? What kind of cad did that? Of course, he rationalized, he wasn’t really lying. Not totally, anyway. He was attracted to Rainey and he did, for whatever warped reason, want to marry her.

      Summoning all the courage he could muster, he went into the living room, sat down across from the women, and cleared his throat. They stopped chattering and stared expectantly at him.

      “Ah, Grandma,” he began, his throat suddenly dry, his palms sweating, “Rainey and I have something to tell you. We’ve, ah, we’ve…” Desperate, he glanced at Rainey for help, but she looked away and nervously licked her lips. “We’ve—we’re—we’ve decided to marry!” He braced himself for the explosion.

      It didn’t come.

      Instead, before his very eyes, Florence Mahoney’s funny little face lit up like a neon sign and she gasped—with sheer delight. “Oh, my, now isn’t that just the best news I have ever heard! Let me be the first to congratulate both of you.”

      “Wh-whaaat…?” Beck stammered.

      “Thank you.” Rainey’s СКАЧАТЬ