Read Online A Promise of Roses by Heidi Betts - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Heidi Betts
Ads: Link
prefer?"
"I'm not sure.” He had only seen her in a brown and red plaid shirt made for a man. “She's very soft and feminine,” he said, wondering if God would strike him dead for such an outrageous lie.
The woman held up several choices. “This pale yellow is nice, but it gets dirty easily. The light blue is just as bad. Then there's this forest green, but it draws the heat like an iron skillet."
Lucas had half a notion to ask why the hell the store bothered to carry any of the garments if they were so troublesome. Then the flash of another color caught his eye. Tiny blue and yellow flowers danced around on the fabric of a red skirt, and Lucas knew the combination would suit Megan much better than any of the other, plainer prints.
"What about this one?” he asked.
The woman inhaled so deeply, her buttons threatened to pop. “Red is a shameful color, meant only for trollops and ladies of lesser morals."
"I like it,” Lucas said. He could already picture the skirt on Megan. “Give me the yellow one, too,” he said to appease the woman's sense of propriety.
"Will you be wanting unmentionables to wear with them?"
"Huh?” Lucas could have sworn the stodgy old lady blushed.
"Unmentionables, sir. Undergarments."
"Oh, you mean drawers and such.” Yep, the old lady definitely blushed three shades of red.
"Does your wife need them or not?” she snapped.
"I suppose. A couple of blouses, too."
Lucas watched the woman fold the two skirts and add them to his pile on the counter. Then she picked two blouses, one plain with no frills, the other ruffled from neck to waist and around the wrists.
He smiled and dug into his pocket to pay for the purchases. But she wasn't done yet. She seemed to take great pride in building the stack of clothes until it wobbled precariously. Then she simply started another. He ended up buying drawers, chemises, camisoles, stockings, garters, and something that looked like a bear trap, which the woman insisted no decent female should be without.
Too stunned and out of his element to argue, Lucas simply handed over the money, asking to have everything wrapped and delivered to the hotel. At the last minute, he remembered that he'd wanted to get Megan some rose-scented soap or perfume or the like, and he started digging into his pocket again. Whatever she could find would be fine, he assured the woman. He scooped up his things—a mere pittance of the full order—and started down the street for the bathhouse.
Lucas let out a long sigh as he lowered himself into the steaming water. Nothing eased the aches and pains of the trail like a hot bath. It would have been nice to take advantage of the privacy of the hotel room, but he didn't think Megan would appreciate his presence.
Of course, he didn't much care what Megan thought. At least, he shouldn't. He was still fuming over the expense of kidnapping a woman. A man never would have cost him so dearly or given him so much trouble.
A man's leg never would have looked so damn good hanging over the side of a tub, either, he reminded himself.
And that had been one damn fine leg.
Lucas cursed and forced himself to relax, letting the heat seep through his stiff, tired muscles. He lathered his hands with a chunk of the brand-new soap he'd paid extra for and scrubbed every inch of his body. When he finished, the water was nearly as dark as his boots. He felt ten pounds lighter as he walked next door to the barber shop.
Half an hour later, Lucas had a hard time recognizing his reflection in the mirror. With a clean-shaven face and neatly trimmed hair that barely brushed the collar of his new shirt, he looked almost human again.
He paid the barber and started for the Eat ‘n’ Sleep, humming an old tune his mother used to sing. In the hotel lobby, a bloodcurdling scream stopped Lucas in mid-stride. The young man behind the desk blanched, and Lucas's stomach clenched. He cast an apologetic smile toward the hotel clerk and quickly made his way up
"I'm not sure.” He had only seen her in a brown and red plaid shirt made for a man. “She's very soft and feminine,” he said, wondering if God would strike him dead for such an outrageous lie.
The woman held up several choices. “This pale yellow is nice, but it gets dirty easily. The light blue is just as bad. Then there's this forest green, but it draws the heat like an iron skillet."
Lucas had half a notion to ask why the hell the store bothered to carry any of the garments if they were so troublesome. Then the flash of another color caught his eye. Tiny blue and yellow flowers danced around on the fabric of a red skirt, and Lucas knew the combination would suit Megan much better than any of the other, plainer prints.
"What about this one?” he asked.
The woman inhaled so deeply, her buttons threatened to pop. “Red is a shameful color, meant only for trollops and ladies of lesser morals."
"I like it,” Lucas said. He could already picture the skirt on Megan. “Give me the yellow one, too,” he said to appease the woman's sense of propriety.
"Will you be wanting unmentionables to wear with them?"
"Huh?” Lucas could have sworn the stodgy old lady blushed.
"Unmentionables, sir. Undergarments."
"Oh, you mean drawers and such.” Yep, the old lady definitely blushed three shades of red.
"Does your wife need them or not?” she snapped.
"I suppose. A couple of blouses, too."
Lucas watched the woman fold the two skirts and add them to his pile on the counter. Then she picked two blouses, one plain with no frills, the other ruffled from neck to waist and around the wrists.
He smiled and dug into his pocket to pay for the purchases. But she wasn't done yet. She seemed to take great pride in building the stack of clothes until it wobbled precariously. Then she simply started another. He ended up buying drawers, chemises, camisoles, stockings, garters, and something that looked like a bear trap, which the woman insisted no decent female should be without.
Too stunned and out of his element to argue, Lucas simply handed over the money, asking to have everything wrapped and delivered to the hotel. At the last minute, he remembered that he'd wanted to get Megan some rose-scented soap or perfume or the like, and he started digging into his pocket again. Whatever she could find would be fine, he assured the woman. He scooped up his things—a mere pittance of the full order—and started down the street for the bathhouse.
Lucas let out a long sigh as he lowered himself into the steaming water. Nothing eased the aches and pains of the trail like a hot bath. It would have been nice to take advantage of the privacy of the hotel room, but he didn't think Megan would appreciate his presence.
Of course, he didn't much care what Megan thought. At least, he shouldn't. He was still fuming over the expense of kidnapping a woman. A man never would have cost him so dearly or given him so much trouble.
A man's leg never would have looked so damn good hanging over the side of a tub, either, he reminded himself.
And that had been one damn fine leg.
Lucas cursed and forced himself to relax, letting the heat seep through his stiff, tired muscles. He lathered his hands with a chunk of the brand-new soap he'd paid extra for and scrubbed every inch of his body. When he finished, the water was nearly as dark as his boots. He felt ten pounds lighter as he walked next door to the barber shop.
Half an hour later, Lucas had a hard time recognizing his reflection in the mirror. With a clean-shaven face and neatly trimmed hair that barely brushed the collar of his new shirt, he looked almost human again.
He paid the barber and started for the Eat ‘n’ Sleep, humming an old tune his mother used to sing. In the hotel lobby, a bloodcurdling scream stopped Lucas in mid-stride. The young man behind the desk blanched, and Lucas's stomach clenched. He cast an apologetic smile toward the hotel clerk and quickly made his way up
Similar Books
