Read Online Harmony by Stef Ann Holm - Free Book Online Page B

volunteered. No matter how Edwina’s money woes might affect her in the future, she could never cast the woman adrift. At least not without a tidy severance check as compensation.
    While Edwina nibbled on a nut wafer cookie, a horse-drawn wagon driven by Mr. Wolcott’s associate pulled up front. She could view the assemblage through the sporting goods store’s open door. Boxes and crates, not to mention an abundant pile of stuffed animals, filled the bed. The brake went into place, then the man climbed down from the seat.
    As he entered the premises, she was reminded that he wasn’t an unpleasant-looking man—albeit his facial features were somewhat linear. Lines wore grooves at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Yesterday, after Crescencia had fainted and had been revived, he’d made his introduction. Shay Dufresne. His name had sounded French, especially the last: Dew-fraine. She’d thought him a gentleman when his concern for dear Crescenciahad bordered on indulgent. His hand had taken hers, and he’d given her fingers a few quick pats before lifting her head so that Edwina could pass the ammonia bottle beneath Crescencia’s nose.
    Once her eyes fluttered open, Crescencia nearly fell into oblivion again upon seeing the man she’d collided with standing over her. Edwina would have to impress upon the other woman that contact with a person of the opposite sex wasn’t cause for a fit of the vapors. That, in fact, a man’s touch could be . . .
    Edwina abruptly shook her musings from her head.
    â€œMiss Huntington.” Mr. Dufresne tipped his hat.
    A nod blended with her reply of “Mr. Dufresne.”
    â€œYou remembered.”
    â€œOf course.”
    Momentarily, he went outside to return with one of the boxes. “How’s your friend Miss Stykem?”
    â€œI’m certain she’s very well today. How kind of you to ask.”
    Mr. Wolcott appeared around the door’s corner, an animal’s black-and-white-striped rear end hoisted in his arms. As it was for the bear, the wall plaque was only half of the body of the poor thing, definitely a victim of rigor mortis. But in this case, the unappealing half—muscled hindquarters with legs and hooves, and a tail with a tuft of black hair on the tip.
    Though Edwina had promised herself she’d be congenial, she couldn’t refrain from asking, “Was it necessary to remove its head?”
    â€œNever had a head that I saw,” Mr. Wolcott replied, setting the vulgarity on a sawhorse. “This was bagged on a safari in Africa.”
    She became duly impressed. “You’ve been to Africa, Mr. Wolcott?”
    â€œNever claimed I was there. Said that’s where the zebra bought it. I picked this up from a marketeer in the Galveston harbor.”
    A frown marred her lips. She should have known he’d say one thing to make her think another. Leaning intothe chair’s canvas, she tucked her legs beneath the seat. “If you cross the zebra with your bear, you’d have something whole.”
    Laughter erupted from him, a deep and rich earthy sound that unexpectedly gave her a shiver of delight. Against her will, she smiled with him. His lips were firm and sensual, the white of his teeth an engaging contrast next to sun-bronzed skin.
    Too soon, he broke the spell and looked away.
    â€œWouldn’t do me any good to put them together.” The lid to his coffeepot was lifted, and apparently, the pot was empty, because he scowled. “One of these days, I’m going to make a clock out of the zebra. The tail’s going to be the pendulum.”
    Edwina’s brow arched. A clock? Out of a zebra’s behind . . . ? How positively and utterly . . . stupid. Managing to speak in a serious tone, the best she could muster was “I’m certain it will be a conversation piece.” And something she’d never care to see.
    â€œNo more