Mail Order Sweetheart. Christine Johnson
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Название: Mail Order Sweetheart
Автор: Christine Johnson
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Исторические любовные романы
Серия: Mills & Boon Love Inspired Historical
isbn: 9781474067935
isbn:
Fiona breathed out. She hadn’t realized how much she would miss the income she’d received from her concerts. Almost three months without pay had stretched her funds very thin. “That’s wonderful. An answer to prayer.”
“You’ve been praying to have a concert?”
“I’ve been praying for an income.”
The color left his face. “An income?”
“I do need to pay for room and board,” she pointed out.
“Of course.” His color returned, this time to a bright red. He avoided looking directly at her.
“All right. What’s wrong? Spit it out.” Fiona hated when a man wouldn’t express himself outright.
“Um.” Again he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to say that at least for now we’ll have to do them without pay. Mrs. VanderLeuven said she needs to start turning a profit first.”
Fiona’s temper rose. Under that rationale, the VanderLeuvens would never pay them. She’d heard the rumors of unpaid debts and heavy loans on the property. But it did no good to rail at the messenger. It also wouldn’t help pay the bills when Mary Clare did arrive. She needed steady employment. The thought of cleaning rooms or scrubbing dishes at the hotel left a foul taste in her mouth. She’d clawed her way out of poverty. She would not descend back into it.
“I see.” The terse reply was the best she could manage.
“Then you’ll do it?” The hint of hope in his voice gave her pause.
He wanted her to sing at the hotel again. Maybe he looked forward to it. She did too, and not just the singing. Sawyer was surprisingly handsome and charming. And his piano and violin playing made her want to close her eyes and drink it in. Too bad he was only a sawmill foreman. Still, a concert couldn’t hurt. Maybe she could persuade Mrs. VanderLeuven to give them a percentage of profit from the meals ordered that night.
“I will,” she confirmed. “For now.”
The faint sound of women’s giggling reached her ears. She turned to see the ladies glued to the parlor windows. They weren’t watching her. No, every eye was fixed on Sawyer. No wonder he’d looked so uncomfortable. It wasn’t her at all. Drawing the attention of six women left him unnerved.
She glanced back at Sawyer. Granted, he was a fine specimen of masculinity with his broad shoulders, height, muscular build and shock of dark brown hair. Brunette for brunette. That’s how Mr. Adamson had matched the girls. Under that criteria, Clara would go with Sawyer. The woman did have a proprietary gleam in her eye.
Sawyer looked away. “Are those the women we rescued? I didn’t realize they were so young.”
He didn’t say they were pretty, but he thought it. She could tell.
Something fiercely protective rose in Fiona’s breast. “Yes, and they are all engaged to marry. Every last one.”
There. That ought to douse the spark of interest in his eyes.
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