Read Online Caught by Surprise by Deborah Smith - Free Book Online Page A

woman and that she fit into his life perfectly.

Four
    Early the next morning Suds dropped Brig off to work on her roof again. Millie was still drinking her morning tea as she went out to meet him. His skin and hair glowed from a recent scrubbing, and his white shirt was tucked neatly into spotless white trousers. He was a tonic that made her hands tremble, and Millie stared at him helplessly as he ambled up the pebbled walkway framed by multi-hued flower beds on either side. He stopped at the bottom step, then smiled at her, his blue eyes sleepy but devilish. His guitar case hung from one brawny hand.
    “Good morning, Melisande,” he said with the innocent tone of a schoolboy greeting a teacher. “Fine morning, eh?”
    She shivered inwardly as she inhaled the warm scents of fresh soap and masculine skin. “Good morning, Brigand,” she answered equally primly. Light-hearted banter would keep them both out of trouble, Millie hoped. “You don’t see many mornings, I suspect.”
    He frowned mildly. “I’m a night person. Comes with my work.”
    “You could learn to love watching the sunrise.”
    Brig squinted at her, amused. “It’s just a sunset inreverse. But at sunset, at least my eyes are focused and I can think.”
    “I won’t ask you to do anything mental until after nine.”
    “Make it ten,” he corrected. His wide, generous mouth hinted at naughtiness. “I’ll have to let my physical impulses run wild until then.”
    She wore another pair of cutoffs—loose ones, left a discreet length—and a floppy white T-shirt with a bright red road-race logo across the chest. He ducked his head a little, tilted it to one side, and gazed at her lithe, muscular legs. Again, his voice was innocent. “You’ve got goose bumps on your knees, love. Are you cold?”
    Millie smiled at his tactics while she suppressed another small shiver. There would be no repeat of yesterday’s rooftop scene. She pressed a hand to her chest, then told him, “Cold hearted. And don’t forget it.”
    “Tsk, tsk.” He shook his head. “Exercise would warm you up.”
    She wasn’t going to ask what he had in mind. “I’ll help you cut down the rest of the tree.”
    He sighed. “Wouldn’t give a fellow a cup of hot coffee, would you?”
    “I doubt
you
need warming up, but I’ll be glad to provide a cup of blackberry tea. I don’t have any coffee.”
    “How can a man work without stimulation? I’ll have to look for something else to get my blood goin’.”
    She continued to smile, and silently admitted that she both loved and feared his provocative silliness. “I could turn the hose on you.”
    He gasped comically. “Ow.”
    Millie nodded toward the guitar case. “Heckuva lunch box.” Brig laughed, the sound low and gruff. It echoed through her, loosening her knees and making her skin tingle. She took a quick swallow of tea and stepped back from his intense, disturbing presence.
    “You can leave it inside.” With a slight movement of her head she indicated the house behind her. “Come on. I’ll fix your tea.”
    “Tea sounds fine, Melisande.”
    Brig’s gaze followed her as she turned and went swiftly to the door, her bare feet padding delicately on the porch’s creaking, whitewashed boards. Her feet were beautifully shaped and fine-boned. Slender blue veins crisscrossed the tops. He frowned as he felt blood pounding low in his body. It was going to be a long day, if he reacted this strongly to something as ordinary as feet. But then, nothing was ordinary about Melisande.
    Her living room was a cluttered, likable place filled with family photographs, overstuffed furniture, and heavy, plain bookcases. Brig put his guitar case on a chintz-covered couch and trailed after her to the kitchen, where a bay window looked out on the majestic forest in the backyard.
    She pointed to a small table in front of the window. “Have a seat.”
    “Yes, Melisande,” he said quaintly, and folded his sturdy frame into a chair.
    Millie