Read Online Everything but the Baby (Harlequin Superromance) by Kathleen O`Brien - Free Book Online Page B

and Daniel would’ve loved to offer to teach her. He played tennis well. It was the one thing his lanky body was suited for.
    Lincoln eyed Daniel thoughtfully, his blue gaze a little less sparkling and friendly than usual. Then he looked at Janelle, who was still smiling, apparently unaware that Daniel had just overstepped the all-important line, which, though invisible, was electrified.
    â€œYou know, that’s a great idea,” he said, shocking the hell out of Daniel. “Good thinking, Danny. Let’s do it.”
    He handed over a racket he hauled around in a 12-pack Babolat bag, one of the most expensive they carried here in the pro shop. Bart had encouraged Lincoln to buy it a few days ago and the big selling point had been that tennis pro Rafael Nadal used a similar one.
    â€œI’m not sure why I bought such a big bag,” Lincoln said with a self-effacing smile as he noticed Daniel’s gaze. “I think your partner Bart is too good a salesman. He had me thinking I’d play like Nadal if I owned this thing. Which Janie can tell you is absolutely not the case.”
    Janelle laughed and slipped her hand into the crook of Lincoln’s elbow. “Compared to me, you do,” she said.
    Lincoln laughed, and as Daniel took the racket he found himself laughing along. As he’d said before, Lincoln was hard to hate. Every time Daniel got close, the guy did something human.
    He was either the slickest con artist on the planet or he was the only truly humble, friendly millionaire playboy in the history of the world.
    For Janelle’s sake, Daniel hoped it was the latter. If he couldn’t have her—and short of getting struck by a miraculous stroke of love-lightning, he definitely couldn’t—he still wanted her to be happy.
    That surprised him, too. Sure was different from how he felt when his last girlfriend, Beth Miller, dumped him for a no-neck football player.
    Maybe, he thought, as he trotted back to restring the racket, he was actually growing up.
    Bummer.
    Â 
    A S SHE GOT OUT of her car in front of Lincoln’s borrowed mansion, Allison’s dress snagged on a loose piece of chrome. A blue loop of thread dangled from her left hip. Cursing under her breath, she smoothed thesurrounding fabric. Maybe it would slide back into place.
    Of course, it wouldn’t. She fought the urge to rip the darn thing out, blew a damp curl out of her eyes and took a deep breath. From the moment she got up that morning, she’d been jinxed. First, she’d overslept. Then she realized she’d forgotten to pack the only styling mousse capable of handling this humidity. Now her hair kinked up if she so much as glanced out the window. Then Flannery and Fiona had cornered her about coming to their dance practice this afternoon. Fiona had fingered the straps of her backpack nervously and done all her begging with her eyes. Flannery had hopped in place and pleaded in a piercing falsetto.
    It was adorable…and successful. Allison had promised to be back by one o’clock.
    Great . As if it weren’t daunting enough to have to convince Lincoln of her sincerity, humility, generosity, desperation, adoration and poor-little-rich-girl naïveté. Now she was going to have to do it all in about ninety minutes or less.
    With frizzy hair.
    And a bra at least two sizes smaller than Janelle Greenwood’s.
    But she refused to think negatively. She opened her purse to be sure she’d remembered the heavy signet ring and repeated her private hook-Lincoln mantra.
    I’m rich enough, I’m dumb enough and, doggone it, bigamists like me.
    That made her smile, which settled some of the butterflies. She tossed the strap of her purse over hershoulder, marched up to the door and pressed the bell before she could change her mind.
    Lincoln answered it in two seconds, as if he’d been standing there waiting for it to ring. To her dismay, he was dressed in tennis whites and