Read Online Charming You (Thirsty Hearts Book 1) by Kris Jayne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kris Jayne
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her chin to the soft spot behind her ear. Something unnamable compelled him to try again.
"I don't think they'll mind if we take a moment to catch up."
Vivienne shook her head and glanced again over her shoulder. "Maybe not, but Miranda will be quite displeased if the food gets cold while we're fooling around."
"Fine," he said, reaching to pull her close to him one more time.
Vivienne shook her head. "Uh, uh. Dinner. I'm starving."
Sex or food? Right now, Nick would take sex, but he knew he couldn't drag Vivienne down to the Brazilian rosewood parquet floors and get it on in the middle of the Morans' den. He surveyed the wood's dark brown whirls, and the color brought to mind shining waves of espresso hair. Micky had fire. She might take his head off, but he'd love it. Nick blinked and focused on Vivienne. Indulging in brunette fantasies had to stop.
Nick ate many dinners here, but the Morans' dining room still stunned him. The room broke off the wide hallway between the kitchen and the formal living room. Three walls of divided light windows framed an immense, antique table that sat sixteen people. Foot-wide crown molding sat atop the walls, breaking at the corners for scrolled sconces. On the right wall, a stone fireplace sat in the center, providing warmth and ambiance in the winter.
The first time Nick set foot in the room, he'd been amazed at the size of the Persian rug laid out under the impressive table. It had to be at least twenty-five feet long. He looked up and out the many windows.
Although it was nearly eight o'clock, he could still appreciate the view in the twilight. At the far end of the room, a pair of French doors opened out onto a stone patio as large as the indoor living area. It curved around to the left of the dining room and led to a set of steps taking you down to an Olympic-size swimming pool. Another flagstone staircase outside the doors on the right took you down to a clearing centered around a picturesque, 100-year-old oak tree, which formed the view from the family room.
The tree was only slightly older than the house. The acreage surrounding the house stretched beyond the entire scene, all the way down to their private tennis courts and guesthouse.
Tom sat at the head of the table on the far side of the room. Nick followed Vivienne and sat to the left, opposite her mother and brother. Sheila swept her hand through her pale hair and then straightened the napkin on her lap. While she'd always been pleasant to Nick, he found Vivienne's mother more than a little intimidating.
The last dinner Nick attended had put Vivienne and him squarely in the woman's crosshairs. Two weeks before Vivienne went radio silent on him, he'd sat at this mahogany dining table, staring out into the darkness. He'd imagined what would happen if he grabbed Vivienne by the hand and made a break for it.
"Your wedding is just over a year away, Vivienne. It's not going to plan itself. Have you even made the guest list? Nick has his family, his college friends, and his work colleagues. That's wonderful, but you have an entirely different set of social balances to strike. Your wedding will be an event, and we have to think carefully about the right people to attend," Sheila had explained.
Vivienne's mother had beamed with enthusiasm. She would surely love wielding the social hammer of an invitation to her daughter's nuptials. Nick thought of how she'd reacted when Vivienne intimated she'd invite her college roommate's family.
Sheila and the other woman's mother, a woman named Birgit Schoen, had fallen out. The lady headed up a charitable committee to host a fundraising event for a local women's shelter. When Sheila had asked to join the board, Birgit had told her "yes," but then called one week later full of apologies. They decided to keep the committee membership to a minimum, but maybe next year, Sheila could try again. Of course, Vivienne's mother had been outraged.
Birgit had extended an invitation to the wife of
"I don't think they'll mind if we take a moment to catch up."
Vivienne shook her head and glanced again over her shoulder. "Maybe not, but Miranda will be quite displeased if the food gets cold while we're fooling around."
"Fine," he said, reaching to pull her close to him one more time.
Vivienne shook her head. "Uh, uh. Dinner. I'm starving."
Sex or food? Right now, Nick would take sex, but he knew he couldn't drag Vivienne down to the Brazilian rosewood parquet floors and get it on in the middle of the Morans' den. He surveyed the wood's dark brown whirls, and the color brought to mind shining waves of espresso hair. Micky had fire. She might take his head off, but he'd love it. Nick blinked and focused on Vivienne. Indulging in brunette fantasies had to stop.
Nick ate many dinners here, but the Morans' dining room still stunned him. The room broke off the wide hallway between the kitchen and the formal living room. Three walls of divided light windows framed an immense, antique table that sat sixteen people. Foot-wide crown molding sat atop the walls, breaking at the corners for scrolled sconces. On the right wall, a stone fireplace sat in the center, providing warmth and ambiance in the winter.
The first time Nick set foot in the room, he'd been amazed at the size of the Persian rug laid out under the impressive table. It had to be at least twenty-five feet long. He looked up and out the many windows.
Although it was nearly eight o'clock, he could still appreciate the view in the twilight. At the far end of the room, a pair of French doors opened out onto a stone patio as large as the indoor living area. It curved around to the left of the dining room and led to a set of steps taking you down to an Olympic-size swimming pool. Another flagstone staircase outside the doors on the right took you down to a clearing centered around a picturesque, 100-year-old oak tree, which formed the view from the family room.
The tree was only slightly older than the house. The acreage surrounding the house stretched beyond the entire scene, all the way down to their private tennis courts and guesthouse.
Tom sat at the head of the table on the far side of the room. Nick followed Vivienne and sat to the left, opposite her mother and brother. Sheila swept her hand through her pale hair and then straightened the napkin on her lap. While she'd always been pleasant to Nick, he found Vivienne's mother more than a little intimidating.
The last dinner Nick attended had put Vivienne and him squarely in the woman's crosshairs. Two weeks before Vivienne went radio silent on him, he'd sat at this mahogany dining table, staring out into the darkness. He'd imagined what would happen if he grabbed Vivienne by the hand and made a break for it.
"Your wedding is just over a year away, Vivienne. It's not going to plan itself. Have you even made the guest list? Nick has his family, his college friends, and his work colleagues. That's wonderful, but you have an entirely different set of social balances to strike. Your wedding will be an event, and we have to think carefully about the right people to attend," Sheila had explained.
Vivienne's mother had beamed with enthusiasm. She would surely love wielding the social hammer of an invitation to her daughter's nuptials. Nick thought of how she'd reacted when Vivienne intimated she'd invite her college roommate's family.
Sheila and the other woman's mother, a woman named Birgit Schoen, had fallen out. The lady headed up a charitable committee to host a fundraising event for a local women's shelter. When Sheila had asked to join the board, Birgit had told her "yes," but then called one week later full of apologies. They decided to keep the committee membership to a minimum, but maybe next year, Sheila could try again. Of course, Vivienne's mother had been outraged.
Birgit had extended an invitation to the wife of
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