Read Online A Midsummer Night's Romp by Katie MacAlister - Free Book Online Page B

family to use the grounds will make it all worth it.”
    â€œTruer words were never spoken,” Elliott agreed. “And stop fussing. You’ll have the cast off soon, though, and then you can go back to work.”
    â€œMy boss has me booked to go to Venice in October—until then, I’ll be kicking around here.”
    â€œLucky bastard,” Elliott said with affection. “How many people find themselves taken to glamorous places like Venice to do their jobs?”
    Gunner grinned. “Glamour doesn’t enter into it; it’s damned hard work climbing all over those abandoned factories documenting them, as you well know.”
    â€œYes, but it doesn’t make me any less envious of a job where all you have to do is snap a few photos.”
    â€œâ€˜Architectural forensic photographer’ is the official title, thank you very much. Anyway, did you and Alice get any time away from your book tour to enjoy your belated honeymoon?”
    The talk turned purely familial as the two men spent another ten minutes hashing over various estate issues that Gunner had been handling while his brother Dixon, who normally handled such things, was off taking a much-needed vacation. Or at least he was handling things until Elliott returned from his three-week American book tour. Once the video call ended, Gunner hobbled around the residential section of the castle, his fiberglass walking boot echoing loudly down the wood-paneled hallways, making him very aware of his isolation.
    He settled down in the small, dark library, propping his leg up on an ottoman. He picked up a book, but it wasn’t the words on the page that he saw. His mind went to the soft feel of the woman he’d run down as she sat on his legs, one of her breasts pressed enticingly against his chest, the warm curve of her hip nicely solid under his arm. He’d been honest when he told her that he favored curves, not understanding why so many women felt it necessary to starve themselves into thinness that seemed to him to be borderline creepy. He’d seen enough survivors of famine, pestilence, and war in his life to keep him from seeking skeletal qualities in a female companion.
    â€œLorina,” he said aloud, savoring her name on his lips. She was a substantial woman, close to six feet tall, which was another point in her favor. At six feet three, he didn’t like women who were so small that they gave him a crick in his neck when he kissed them. And he very much liked kissing women—he also liked holding them, andtouching their breasts, and stroking his hands up their long, long legs. . . .
    He had to stop himself from mentally stripping Lorina, guessing she would not be one of the women who easily tumbled into his bed. Long experience had taught him to quickly assess who was after him for his supposed wealth and relationship to the Ainslie family, and although he wasn’t above indulging himself when so offered, of late he had begun to feel there was something important missing in his fleeting relationships.
    â€œDamn Elliott,” he said aloud as an orange cat wandered into the room, looked around, and leaped onto his legs, kneading his thigh briefly before curling up on his lap. Absently, he stroked the cat while glaring out of the small paneled window. “He had to go and get married, Captain, and live happily ever after with a charming woman who makes him laugh, and stay in bed half the day until he emerges with a besotted look plastered all over his face, and now it’s made me feel like things are lacking in my own life. They aren’t, though. You see that, don’t you? I’m not the marrying type. Elliott is. I’m a free spirit. I like women, and they like me, and we both understand that although we can enjoy each other for some time, it’s not going to be permanent. I come and go like the wind, without any responsibilities. Elliott’s the one with those, and he