Passion Flower. Diana Palmer
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Название: Passion Flower
Автор: Diana Palmer
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Эротическая литература
Серия: Mills & Boon M&B
isbn: 9781474013031
isbn:
He chuckled softly. It was the first time she’d heard the deep, pleasant sound, and it surprised her to find that he was capable of laughter. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who laughed very often.
His eyes wandered over her thin body with amused indifference, and she regretted for a minute that she was such a shadow of her former self. “Try again, honey,” he said.
She noticed then the deep lines in his darkly tanned face, the sprinkling of gray hair at his temples. In the open neck of his shirt, she could see threads of silver among the curling dark hair. No, he wasn’t as young as she’d first thought.
“Thirty-four,” she guessed.
“Add a year and you’ve got it.”
She smiled. “Poor old man,” she said with gentle humor.
He chuckled again. “That’s no way to talk to your new boss,” he cautioned.
“I won’t forget again, honestly.” She stared at him. “Do you have other people working for you?”
“Just Eddie and Bib,” he said. “They’re married.” He nodded as he watched her eyes become wide and apprehensive. “That’s right. We’ll be alone. I’m a bachelor and there’s no staff in the house.”
“Well...”
“There’ll be a lock on your door,” he said after a minute. “When you know me better, you’ll see that I’m pretty conventional in my outlook. It’s a big house. We’ll rattle around like two peas in a pod. It’s only on rare occasions that I’m in before bedtime.” His dark eyes held hers. “And for the record, my taste doesn’t run to city girls.”
That sounded as if there was a good reason for his taste in women, but she didn’t pry. “I’ll work hard, Mr. Culhane.”
“My name is Everett,” he said, watching her. “Or Rett, if you prefer. You can cook meals and do the laundry and housekeeping. And when you have time, you can work in what passes for my office. Wages won’t be much. I can pay the bills, and that’s about it.”
“I don’t care about getting rich.” Meanwhile she was thinking fast, sorely tempted to accept the offer, but afraid of the big, angry man at her side. There were worse things than being alone and without money, and she didn’t really know him at all.
He saw the thoughts in her mind. “Jenny Wren,” he said softly, “do I look like a mad rapist?”
Hearing her name that way on his lips sent a surge of warmth through her. No one had called her by a pet name since the death of her parents.
“No,” she said quietly. “Of course you don’t. I’ll work for you, Mr. Culhane.”
He didn’t answer her. He only scanned her face and nodded. Then he started the truck, turned it around, and headed back to the Circle C Ranch.
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