A Pretend Proposal. Jackie Braun

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      “I wouldn’t have taken you for the sort of woman who enjoyed Kung Pao chicken,” he said slowly. “It’s got a lot of kick, especially from the restaurant I patronize.”

      “Hence the sweet and sour pork and chicken stir-fry,” she replied.

      His smile was lightning quick and appealing.

      “I was hedging my bets with a good assortment.”

      “That was very thoughtful, but as it turns out there was no need. I like spice. Lots of it, in fact.” She sipped her water, took her time swallowing. Regardless, the heat not only remained, but also burned even hotter.

      That studious look was back on his face. “I have a feeling there’s a lot more to you, Elizabeth Morris, than first meets the eye.”

      She held his gaze. “The same is true for most people, I think.”

      It was definitely true for Thomas. She’d had him pegged as a smooth operator based on his handsome face and admitted commitment-phobia. Add in that kiss and she’d known he was vastly experienced when it came to casual physical relationships, making him exactly the sort of man any woman who valued keeping her heart whole knew to avoid. But that opinion shifted once she figured in his manners and his deep love for his grandmother. Just as she had the night before, Elizabeth found herself marveling at all of his layers and almost wishing they were involved in the sort of relationship that allowed one to delve deeper, explore and, eventually, see more.

      “What you’re telling me is you can’t judge a book by its cover,” he said.

      “Am I sensing some regrets? Perhaps I’m not the right woman for this … job after all.”

      “No. No regrets.” But he was frowning when he said, “I have a feeling you’re perfect.”

CHAPTER SIX

      THEY talked throughout their meal about the inconsequential things that ultimately helped people get to know one another. Little by little, more of the true Elizabeth Morris emerged. As Thomas already had surmised, there was far more to her than first met the eye. And he wasn’t completely comfortable with the woman now seated across from him.

      He’d meant it when he’d said earlier that he had the feeling she was perfect. Not just for the role he wanted her to play, either. She was funny, interesting and smart, definitely. And he knew from that kiss that, under different circumstances, he wouldn’t mind pursuing a more intimate relationship with her. But that would have to wait, assuming she felt the same way. Right now it was business. Even if it also came with a few perks, he decided, as his gaze slid to her mouth. As long as they were on the same page, he might as well as enjoy them.

      He rounded up the last morsel of chicken on his plate and grinned in satisfaction when it stayed between his chopsticks. After eating it, he motioned across the room. “Tell me about that picture on your refrigerator door.”

      She glanced over. Amusement was apparent in her eyes and her voice when she replied, “The one of Mel and me shrieking like a pair of loons?”

      “Exactly.”

      “I’m a roller-coaster junkie,” she admitted, reaching up to adjust the band that held her hair back from her face. “I’m guessing that comes as a surprise to you, too.”

      “Guilty.” While he would have pictured her holding on for dear life as the car crested the summit and plunged over, he saw proof to the contrary affixed to the refrigerator. The photo of her and the young woman he’d met at Literacy Liaisons showed Elizabeth in the front seat of the first car, slim arms waving over her head, a delighted grin flashing over her face.

      “Well, I am. The steeper, the faster, the more winding the better.” She said it with pride and just a little defiance.

      “When and where was that taken?”

      “Last summer. Mel and I took some of our younger clients on a field trip to an amusement park in Ohio,” she told him. “That particular coaster was new and billed as the highest and fastest one in the Midwest. Mel dared me to go on it and take that first plunge hands-free.” Now her smile was every bit as smug as it was nostalgic.

      “Can’t turn down a dare?” His mouth began to water. He blamed it on the spices that were still making his tongue sting.

      “Sure I can. But not one where I know I can do it.”

      “Dang.” He snapped his fingers in mock dismay. “Another one of my misconceptions busted.”

      “Besides, there was an ice-cream cone riding on my saying yes.”

      “Ice cream. I like ice cream.” His gaze was on her mouth and his own was watering again. This time, there was no denying the exact cause.

      “Who doesn’t?”

      “What flavor do you prefer?”

      “Vanilla.” Elizabeth cocked her head to one side. “Before you condemn me for being boring—”

      “Never.” He meant it. He was finding her way too enchanting to be bored.

      “Good.” She offered a quick smile before continuing. “Vanilla is my favorite because it’s the most versatile flavor of ice cream out there. As such, it offers one a chance to get creative.”

      “I guess I never thought of it that way before,” he replied truthfully.

      “Most people haven’t, but they should. Buy a half gallon of vanilla ice cream and you can add whatever you want and create the exact flavor you’re after.”

      “Practical,” he agreed.

      Her frown told him she didn’t quite care for the description, even before she said, “I prefer to think of it as being flexible, maybe even a little imaginative. Add fresh strawberries, chocolate syrup, caramel, peanuts, what have you and you’ve crafted a new flavor.”

      “The possibilities are endless.” Suddenly, he was seeing vanilla in a whole new light, just as he’d already begun to see Elizabeth differently.

      They chatted about coasters and ice cream for the remainder of their meal. When they finished eating, he helped her carry their dishes to the sink. She tried to shoo him back to his seat.

      “There’s no need. Really. You’re my guest.”

      “Actually, I’m your fiancé, remember?” He chose not to ponder how easily the word rolled off his tongue. “My grandmother was a stickler when it came to household chores. From the first day she came to live with us, she drilled into me the importance of cleaning up after myself.”

      “Smart woman.”

      He nodded. “That bit of instruction has served me well. I may be a bachelor, but my house isn’t a pigsty.”

      Her brows rose. “Cleaning lady?”

      “Well, yeah. But she only comes every other week.”

      Elizabeth СКАЧАТЬ