Matchless Millionaires. Elizabeth Bevarly

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СКАЧАТЬ you that day in front of the house, walking home in your ice-cream shop uniform.”

      “I bet you hated me on sight.”

      “No,” he responded slowly, “I was too consumed by anger at Webb to see past to anything else.”

      “I never saw you come into Sloanie’s, and it had the best ice cream in town!”

      “I didn’t want to run into you.” He laughed shortly. “Besides, something as wholesome as ice cream would have ruined my bad-boy image.”

      “I recall,” she said drily. “I’d spot you around town from time to time. Of course, I knew you were Webb Sperling’s son, but even if I hadn’t, your Jaguar convertible would have been a dead giveaway you were the son of the richest family in town.”

      He smiled rakishly. “I loved that car.”

      In the next moment, the waiter arrived with their food, and the conversation moved on to other topics.

      But a newfound level of understanding existed between them and Ryan was sure he wasn’t the only one who felt it—just as he was sure he wasn’t the only one to feel the undercurrent of sexual energy.

      Afterward, he drove her home. When he pulled up in front of the town house, she offered, “Would you like to come in … for coffee? Or—” her eyes laughed at him “—tea?”

      He felt his lips quirk. “Tea sounds great … for the novelty value.”

      Inside, they took off their jackets and she deposited her purse on an entry table before heading toward the kitchen.

      He followed, and they chatted about current events while she boiled water in an old-fashioned teakettle, packed loose tea into a holder and pulled down some cups and saucers.

      When she’d prepared two cups of tea, they walked back into the living room and sat on the couch.

      The conversation touched on Tahoe and growth nearby in California, and he recounted amusing bits of Silicon Valley lore.

      After a while, he looked around and commented, “This is like being allowed into the inner sanctuary.”

      “Would you like a tour? You didn’t get to see it all before we left for dinner.”

      He nodded. He was looking forward to uncovering some more of the mystery that was Kelly Hartley.

      Besides the living room, dining room and kitchen, the lower level of the house had a laundry room and a small bath with scented candles and a little stained-glass cabinet.

      When they went upstairs he discovered the upper level had three rooms and a full bath. There was a guest bedroom with a neat, canopied double bed. Next to the guest bedroom, there was a study that functioned as a workroom and that contained a desk, a sewing machine and shelves full of bolts of fabric.

      They came to her bedroom last, and as Ryan sauntered in, he realized he’d been wrong. This was the inner sanctuary.

      A metal four-poster bed occupied most of the room and was covered with brown-and-aqua bedding. A chandelier with blue glass droplets was suspended over the bed. A floor lamp with a poplin shade stood in one corner. Along one wall stood a mirrored dresser. Along another, there was a vanity table and stool. The room was finished with built-in white shelving behind the bed that held books and photos.

      Ryan turned back to Kelly. “It’s like seeing your style in its purest form. Wow.”

      She looked embarrassed but flattered. “Thank you, I think. “

      “You’re welcome.”

      She glanced out the window. “I just noticed. There’s a full moon.”

      He stood beside her and peered out. “So there is. How about that?”

      He glanced down at her and was struck anew with the urge to kiss her.

      At the same time, she turned to look up at him, her eyes shadowed.

      Slowly, he raised his hands to cup her shoulders and turn her to face him fully. Then he lowered his head and brushed her lips.

      She sighed against his mouth and he took the kiss deeper, taking the edge off a hunger that dinner had done nothing to sate.

      Eventually, his lips drifted away from her lips to explore the delicate shell of her ear and the hollows of her throat.

      She swayed into him and sighed again, her arms locking around his neck.

      Finally, however, and with difficulty, he raised his head. With Kelly, he’d have to go slow. He took a deep, head-clearing breath and asked, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

      Tomorrow was Sunday, and he knew Distressed Success would be closed.

      “I’ll be at the lodge,” she replied huskily.

      “Working.” “Good.”

      He had a surprise for her and, fortunately, the weather for tomorrow called for sunny skies and a clear view.

      “I should be working. This is crazy.” Kelly pulled loose strands of hair away from her face in a futile battle with the wind.

      Though she had her hair tied back in a ponytail, she knew she’d be struggling to get out knots later on.

      Ryan grinned in response to her words, his hair whipped by the wind.

      He stood by the sails of the boat, and Kelly thought she’d never seen him so carefree. She could well imagine how he might have been a pirate in another life.

      She’d shown up early this morning at the lodge because it was Sunday and she didn’t have to be in the shop today. She’d intended to put in a full day’s work, setting up additional furnishings that had been previously delivered.

      Ryan, however, had had other plans. After they’d worked for three hours, he’d taken the vase she’d been holding and announced they were playing hooky for the rest of the day.

      It turned out he’d already had a picnic basket packed and, what’s more, he’d rented a sailboat.

      She had taken one look outside at the glorious weather and had found it impossible to resist.

      Now here they were on the vastness of Lake Tahoe—blue skies overhead accentuated by the occasional lazy puffy white cloud, wavy aqua waters below dotted by the occasional watercraft.

      Ryan had rented a sloop, which had a single mast and two sails. Because she’d been on a sailboat just once before in her life, Ryan had taught her the basics of trimming the sails and handling the helm before they’d left the dock.

      Once they’d gotten under way, however, Ryan had done most of the work. Except for handling the helm when Ryan trimmed the sails, she was able to sit and enjoy the ride.

      “Where did you learn to sail?” she called to him now. Then before he could answer, she added, “No, wait. Let me guess. You took Sailing 101 at prep school.”

      He СКАЧАТЬ