Read Online Between the Lines by Jayne Ann Krentz - Free Book Online
Authors: Jayne Ann Krentz
Tags: Contemporary Romance
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disturbing images aside. Things were back to normal between herself and Gray. She was determined to keep them that way.
"What's on the agenda for this evening?" she asked.
"Tonight we're going to ask for a bottle of very exotic French wine at dinner."
"We are? I have no objections, but why French wine?"
Gray tossed her a gleaming look. "Because I don't think Delaney has this particular label in the hotel cellars. It's not on the wine list."
"Then why are we going to ask for it?"
"Because Vie Delaney spent a vast sum of money on a shipment of it. I don't think that shipment ever materialized. When we try ordering it tonight, we'll know for sure, won't we?"
"I see," Amber said quietly. She tried to sound politely businesslike, because business was clearly the only thing on Gray's mind. But privately she was beginning to understand that the second night of her honeymoon was probably going to be spent in the same way as the first had been spent-alone in her bedroom.
Chapter 4
four days later Amber found herself experiencing S. U. Twitchell country in the most authentic way - from the back of a horse. She didn't know whether to groan or laugh as she obediently followed Gray as he led the way into a small canyon hidden in the hills behind the resort. He was astride a big sorrel gelding and seemed to be having no more difficulty adjusting to a horse's saddle than to swinging a golf club. His big frame moved easily with that of the animal's, and the sorrel seemed ready and willing to take direction from the firm hands that held the reins.
Amber's own mount was a small mare of a indeterminate pale shade that was probably meant to be palomino. It would have required more imagination than Amber had to see any resemblance between her horse and Trigger, however. She had a hunch her animal had been bleached somewhere along the line. Furthermore, Goldie, as the mare was called, refused to pay any attention to Amber's guidance. Goldie had apparently learned early on in her career as a dude ranch horse that she was only required to follow the horse in front of her. She did that much and no more.
"Are you sure this is the way Twitchell got his inspiration?" Amber demanded as Goldie plodded dutifully behind the big sorrel. They were following the path of a small creek that ran through the canyon.
"Of course, I'm sure. How else could he have developed such a feel for the land?" Gray glanced over his shoulder. His expression was respectfully sincere, but there was amusement in his green-gold eyes.
"Somehow I've never thought of Twitchell as having a great feel for the land," Amber muttered. "Or poetry, either," she added in an even lower tone.
But Gray caught the treasonous words. "You'd better smile when you say that, pardner."
"I can't smile. The part of me that meets the saddle has grown numb. When do we stop for lunch?"
Gray reined in his horse and gazed around the scenic little canyon. He seemed satisfied with the sparkling creek, the artfully designed clutter of small boulders and the welcoming bits of green foliage. "How about right here? This looks like the canyon Twitchell described in 'Outlaw Retreat', doesn't it? Do you suppose he actually wandered into this very canyon and got inspired?"
"Any inspiration S.U.T. received probably came from the bottom of a bottle." Predictably enough Goldie had come to a halt the instant her leader had stopped. Amber swung one jeaned leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground with a feeling of relief. Goldie immediately took the action as an indication that she was free to munch. The mare started nosing around a patch of green that grew near the little creek.
"There are times when I detect a certain lack of respect for the great man in some of your comments." Gray dismounted as if he was accustomed to spending days in a saddle. He looped the sorrel's reins and those of the washed-out palomino around a scraggly bush. Then he removed a small leather pouch from the back of his
"What's on the agenda for this evening?" she asked.
"Tonight we're going to ask for a bottle of very exotic French wine at dinner."
"We are? I have no objections, but why French wine?"
Gray tossed her a gleaming look. "Because I don't think Delaney has this particular label in the hotel cellars. It's not on the wine list."
"Then why are we going to ask for it?"
"Because Vie Delaney spent a vast sum of money on a shipment of it. I don't think that shipment ever materialized. When we try ordering it tonight, we'll know for sure, won't we?"
"I see," Amber said quietly. She tried to sound politely businesslike, because business was clearly the only thing on Gray's mind. But privately she was beginning to understand that the second night of her honeymoon was probably going to be spent in the same way as the first had been spent-alone in her bedroom.
Chapter 4
four days later Amber found herself experiencing S. U. Twitchell country in the most authentic way - from the back of a horse. She didn't know whether to groan or laugh as she obediently followed Gray as he led the way into a small canyon hidden in the hills behind the resort. He was astride a big sorrel gelding and seemed to be having no more difficulty adjusting to a horse's saddle than to swinging a golf club. His big frame moved easily with that of the animal's, and the sorrel seemed ready and willing to take direction from the firm hands that held the reins.
Amber's own mount was a small mare of a indeterminate pale shade that was probably meant to be palomino. It would have required more imagination than Amber had to see any resemblance between her horse and Trigger, however. She had a hunch her animal had been bleached somewhere along the line. Furthermore, Goldie, as the mare was called, refused to pay any attention to Amber's guidance. Goldie had apparently learned early on in her career as a dude ranch horse that she was only required to follow the horse in front of her. She did that much and no more.
"Are you sure this is the way Twitchell got his inspiration?" Amber demanded as Goldie plodded dutifully behind the big sorrel. They were following the path of a small creek that ran through the canyon.
"Of course, I'm sure. How else could he have developed such a feel for the land?" Gray glanced over his shoulder. His expression was respectfully sincere, but there was amusement in his green-gold eyes.
"Somehow I've never thought of Twitchell as having a great feel for the land," Amber muttered. "Or poetry, either," she added in an even lower tone.
But Gray caught the treasonous words. "You'd better smile when you say that, pardner."
"I can't smile. The part of me that meets the saddle has grown numb. When do we stop for lunch?"
Gray reined in his horse and gazed around the scenic little canyon. He seemed satisfied with the sparkling creek, the artfully designed clutter of small boulders and the welcoming bits of green foliage. "How about right here? This looks like the canyon Twitchell described in 'Outlaw Retreat', doesn't it? Do you suppose he actually wandered into this very canyon and got inspired?"
"Any inspiration S.U.T. received probably came from the bottom of a bottle." Predictably enough Goldie had come to a halt the instant her leader had stopped. Amber swung one jeaned leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground with a feeling of relief. Goldie immediately took the action as an indication that she was free to munch. The mare started nosing around a patch of green that grew near the little creek.
"There are times when I detect a certain lack of respect for the great man in some of your comments." Gray dismounted as if he was accustomed to spending days in a saddle. He looped the sorrel's reins and those of the washed-out palomino around a scraggly bush. Then he removed a small leather pouch from the back of his
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