A Contract Seduction. Janice Maynard

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ morning, or I guess it’s officially afternoon now. Come on in.”

      Her knees wobbled when the scent of his crisp aftershave teased her nostrils. His broad shoulders were encased in a simple white cotton shirt. Rolled-up sleeves revealed muscular arms tanned from years in the sun. An expensive watch gleamed on one wrist.

      He was dressed more casually than she had ever seen him. Jeans, too, like her. Leather deck shoes that drew attention to his sexy feet.

      When she realized she was getting turned on by the man’s feet, she knew she was in big trouble.

      Her big, sexy guest smiled. “Smells amazing in here.”

      * * *

      Jonathan was gobsmacked and trying not to show it. What had happened to the prim and proper woman who managed his business affairs with such aplomb? Suddenly...today...she looked barely twenty. Her smooth, creamy skin was unadorned. That perky ponytail bared the nape of her neck.

      Her lightweight summer blouse fit her generous breasts snugly. And those skinny jeans? Hell. A man could be excused for wanting to cup that heart-shaped butt in his two hands. His libido, which in recent days had been squashed, roared back to life in a big way.

      Was his reaction inappropriate? Should he try harder to ignore the attraction? Or, under the circumstances, could he be excused for wanting to let himself finally get closer to Lisette?

      He shifted from one foot to the other. “This is very nice of you,” he said. “I’ve been looking forward to a home-cooked meal.”

      Lisette gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. “You have the best housekeeper and chef in the state of South Carolina.”

      “It’s not the same as having a woman cook for me.”

      He hadn’t intended to bring flirtation into the mix, not at all. But the comment slipped out.

      Far from being offended, Lisette gave him a shy smile. “Sit down at the table,” she said. “Everything is almost ready.”

      He sprawled in a trendy retro chair that reminded him of something his great-grandmother might have used back in the 1950s. The Formica-top table was aqua and white. In the center sat a white hobnail vase filled with daisies. Yellow place mats had been set with flatware and cloth napkins.

      “I like your condo,” he said.

      “Thanks. I needed a change of scenery after Mom died. This building is very friendly, and I like the neighborhood.”

      “Does the guy you were out with Friday night live here?” The question popped out of his mouth before he could censor it. Entirely inappropriate from boss to employee. Entirely understandable from a man who felt like he was losing everything. His whole life had shifted. Inappropriate feelings he had suppressed for so long in the past were coming to the fore.

      Lisette had her back to him, grating fresh parmesan cheese for their spaghetti. He saw her go still. But she didn’t turn around. “No,” she said quietly. “That was a blind date my friend Rebekah set up.”

      “Rebekah in Purchasing?”

      “Yes.”

      He drummed his fingers on the table. “Sorry,” he muttered. “None of my business.”

      She turned to face him with an unreadable expression on her face. “This is not going to work unless we can both speak freely. Under the circumstances, I understand that you want to know more about my life. If I’m going to help you, you have to trust me.”

      “I do trust you,” he said quickly. “Completely.”

      “But?” Her half smile called him out.

      Clearly she was reading his ambivalence. “I think you were right about the possibility of people resenting you if I suddenly give you carte blanche to make decisions.”

      She nodded slowly. “It will look odd. Does this mean you’ve changed your mind?”

      He stood to pace restlessly, shoving his hands in his pockets. Second-guessing himself was a novelty he didn’t enjoy. In almost any situation he was able to cut through to the center of a matter and make decisions...good decisions. But that was business.

      This new scenario with Lisette comprised a hundred more layers of uncertainty. “I haven’t changed my mind,” he said. “But I’ve had more time to think about this, and I’ve come to a few conclusions.”

      “Sounds important,” she said lightly, pouring each of them a glass of iced tea.

      “It will keep until after we’ve eaten. I always think better on a full stomach. And have your wine,” he said. “You don’t have to abstain on my account.”

      She shook her head. “I happen to love iced tea. Mine is very good, if I do say so myself. My grandmother taught my mom, and my mom taught me.”

      “I know very little about your family,” he said.

      “Not much to tell.” Lisette set white porcelain salad bowls, dressing, and the two plates of steaming pasta on the table, along with a smaller plate of fragrant garlic bread. Jonathan held out her chair as she seated herself. Then he took the spot opposite her.

      “Is your father still living?” he asked. “I don’t remember hearing you say.”

      She shook her head. “My mother never spoke of him. As a kid I fantasized that he was a secret agent or a prince in some foreign country. Unfortunately, I think the truth is that he just didn’t care and walked away.”

      “Were they married?”

      “I believe so. There’s a name on my birth certificate. And it’s the same last name as my mom’s and mine. But she could have made him up.”

      “Haven’t you ever wanted to track him down?”

      Lisette grimaced, a bite of spaghetti halfway to her mouth. She set the fork on her plate and sighed. “According to all the books and movies, I should. Want to, I mean. But the truth is, I don’t.”

      “Why not?” Jonathan had cleared most of his plate. He was starving, and the meal was amazing. Lisette had barely picked at her spaghetti. Was it because she was nervous? He hoped not. He wanted things between them to be comfortable. Easy.

      Maybe that was an impossible task under the circumstances.

      She curled her fingers around the stem of her crystal goblet and wrinkled her nose. “My mom did the best she could for us, but I was a latchkey kid from the time I was eight or nine. Our house wasn’t like my friends’ houses. It was quiet and empty and lonely. I decided that I would make my own home someday and fill it with color and sound and happiness.”

      Jonathan nodded and smiled. “You’re off to a good start.” Inwardly he groaned. His needs and wants were going to be in direct opposition to hers. Was it fair of him to ask so much when he could give her so little in return?

      “Thank you.” Her cheeks were flushed. It could be the heat from the kitchen, or perhaps she was as aware of him as he was of her. Before today, he would have said СКАЧАТЬ