Read Online A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel by Carol Burnside, Emily Sewell, Kim Killion - Free Book Online Page B
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Our friendship took on a new dimension. When we saw each other again—”
“Sam.” Rosie interrupted his fantasy story before he got to the real-life part about them staring at each other in her shop. What had that been all about? “That’s not very original. The e-mails, the meet? That’s a variation of my favorite movie, You’ve Got Mail with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.”
“Exactly!” He said in a smug, ah-ha voice. “It’s life imitating art.”
Except that it wasn’t. They weren’t. Not at all.
“With a little convincing, they’ll believe it, because they’ve seen it happen on the big screen.”
“And we’re going to accomplish this how?” Rosie was suspicious, having long ago learned not to rise too quickly to the bait when her brothers suggested something risky.
“Relax. I’m not suggesting we scandalize the blue-haired ladies of Sweetwater Springs by French kissing in public.” Sam looked affronted. “I’m just saying a little hand-holding here, an arm around you there, maybe take in a family movie and voilá!—we’re a couple.”
Rosie experienced a little thrill at his last words. She’d been dating casually for so long, being part of a couple—even a pretend one—would be a nice change. With Sam playing her love interest, the problem would be remembering it was all for show.
The PDA didn’t sound too over the top, but it involved more than casual touching. What if she liked it too much?
* * *
S am watched the play of emotions across Rosie’s face. At the moment, she looked ready to bolt. A distraction was needed and quick.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he swung over to sit facing her on the edge of her chaise. She flinched as he braced himself on either side of her shoulders and leaned in.
“Whoa.” Rosie slapped a hand to his chest, her gaze darting to where their outer thighs touched. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
“I don’t . . . are you . . . you’re not . . . ” Her eyes widened, her gaze dropping to her hand, where he was sure she could feel the accelerated bump of his heart.
“Practice,” he explained. “This has to look natural when we’re in public.”
Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip before dragging her teeth across it. He’d seen her perform that nervous habit and every time it got to him. Damn. Much more of this and he’d lose his focus.
“Give me your hand.”
Her breath puffed forth with an ego-bruising relief hard to ignore. She lifted her right hand off his chest and turned it palm up. Sam flipped it over and threaded their fingers together, noting how fair and delicate hers looked next to his. He dragged his gaze back to her face. Her eyes, darkened to a deep aquamarine, regarded him steadily.
“Are you okay with this?” he asked, to break the tension.
One shoulder jerked and her lashes lowered. “It’s just hand-holding.”
“Good. Ready for the next step? Let’s go for a hug.”
Rosie tugged her hand free and eased forward. Though she slid her arms around him in a loose embrace and rested her cheek on his shoulder, she was about as relaxed as a taut rubber band.
He tightened his hold, urging her closer, closing his eyes against a sudden stab of desire as her breasts smashed softly against his chest.
“Not bad,” he said, trying to keep his breathing even. “It has to look like it’s second nature when we hug or kiss, or we’ll never fool anybody.”
Rosie straightened, breaking his hold and stared. His hands dropped to her waist and her lips parted. “You didn’t say anything about kissing. Do we have to kiss in public?”
Have to? Now that deserved a little payback. Sam hid his bruised ego behind a smile and skimmed his fingertips over her shoulder and neck. Her skin felt like warm velvet. “I’m your fiancé now. We’ll be expected to kiss occasionally.”
“I guess you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
He tilted her chin a smidge with his
“Sam.” Rosie interrupted his fantasy story before he got to the real-life part about them staring at each other in her shop. What had that been all about? “That’s not very original. The e-mails, the meet? That’s a variation of my favorite movie, You’ve Got Mail with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.”
“Exactly!” He said in a smug, ah-ha voice. “It’s life imitating art.”
Except that it wasn’t. They weren’t. Not at all.
“With a little convincing, they’ll believe it, because they’ve seen it happen on the big screen.”
“And we’re going to accomplish this how?” Rosie was suspicious, having long ago learned not to rise too quickly to the bait when her brothers suggested something risky.
“Relax. I’m not suggesting we scandalize the blue-haired ladies of Sweetwater Springs by French kissing in public.” Sam looked affronted. “I’m just saying a little hand-holding here, an arm around you there, maybe take in a family movie and voilá!—we’re a couple.”
Rosie experienced a little thrill at his last words. She’d been dating casually for so long, being part of a couple—even a pretend one—would be a nice change. With Sam playing her love interest, the problem would be remembering it was all for show.
The PDA didn’t sound too over the top, but it involved more than casual touching. What if she liked it too much?
* * *
S am watched the play of emotions across Rosie’s face. At the moment, she looked ready to bolt. A distraction was needed and quick.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he swung over to sit facing her on the edge of her chaise. She flinched as he braced himself on either side of her shoulders and leaned in.
“Whoa.” Rosie slapped a hand to his chest, her gaze darting to where their outer thighs touched. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
“I don’t . . . are you . . . you’re not . . . ” Her eyes widened, her gaze dropping to her hand, where he was sure she could feel the accelerated bump of his heart.
“Practice,” he explained. “This has to look natural when we’re in public.”
Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip before dragging her teeth across it. He’d seen her perform that nervous habit and every time it got to him. Damn. Much more of this and he’d lose his focus.
“Give me your hand.”
Her breath puffed forth with an ego-bruising relief hard to ignore. She lifted her right hand off his chest and turned it palm up. Sam flipped it over and threaded their fingers together, noting how fair and delicate hers looked next to his. He dragged his gaze back to her face. Her eyes, darkened to a deep aquamarine, regarded him steadily.
“Are you okay with this?” he asked, to break the tension.
One shoulder jerked and her lashes lowered. “It’s just hand-holding.”
“Good. Ready for the next step? Let’s go for a hug.”
Rosie tugged her hand free and eased forward. Though she slid her arms around him in a loose embrace and rested her cheek on his shoulder, she was about as relaxed as a taut rubber band.
He tightened his hold, urging her closer, closing his eyes against a sudden stab of desire as her breasts smashed softly against his chest.
“Not bad,” he said, trying to keep his breathing even. “It has to look like it’s second nature when we hug or kiss, or we’ll never fool anybody.”
Rosie straightened, breaking his hold and stared. His hands dropped to her waist and her lips parted. “You didn’t say anything about kissing. Do we have to kiss in public?”
Have to? Now that deserved a little payback. Sam hid his bruised ego behind a smile and skimmed his fingertips over her shoulder and neck. Her skin felt like warm velvet. “I’m your fiancé now. We’ll be expected to kiss occasionally.”
“I guess you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
He tilted her chin a smidge with his
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