Read Online Her Fifth Husband? by Dixie Browning - Free Book Online

he said, stating the obvious.
    And there she was, looking even better than he’d remembered.
    Jake had never been partial to redheads—he’d never been partial to any particular type, for that matter. Rosemary had been tall, lean, blond and athletic. But the way Sasha looked with her hair all soft and coppery around her face and her eyes shining like emeralds—
    Emeralds? Yesterday they’d been blue.
    The day before that they’d been tan.
    â€œThose are lovely,” she said, her full red lips widening in a smile.
    Jake stared at the bouquet he was holding as if he’d never seen the thing before. “Uh—yeah, they caught my eye, too, so I thought I might as well…” He shrugged. “You got a vase or something? They probably need some water.”
    Damn, he thought as he ran water into a tall crystal vase he’d found following her directions, you’d think he was Timmy’s age instead of old enough not only to have sown his oats, but harvested the crop.
    He put the drinks in the refrigerator, the frozen vegetables that he’d selected by feel and not by label, in the freezer. The doughnuts, he left on the table. “You need more ice on your ankle?” he called.
    â€œI guess so. It’s been a while.”
    â€œHow about something cold to drink? Or I could make coffee.”
    â€œYes to the first two offers, but not the coffee. Did you bring my shoe?”
    Jake nearly dropped a tray of ice. Her shoe. He’d left it on the dresser in his bedroom. Like a damned trophy.
    Nothing to do but admit it. “Look, I know this is crazy, but I walked right out and forgot the thing. I can go back home right now and get it if—”
    She waved him to a chair. “Don’t be silly, it’s not like I’ll be wearing it anytime soon.”
    â€œGood thing, too. Shoes like that are just asking for trouble.”
    Ignoring him, she said, “First I’ll have to get the heel repaired.”
    He shook his head. Women. “Why do you wear those things, anyway?”
    â€œYou mean ankle straps?” She batted a set of black eyelashes that had to be at least as long as her red fingernails.
    â€œI mean ten-inch heels.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. She was teasing him, and damned if he didn’t like it.
    â€œIn case you hadn’t noticed, I’m slightly height-challenged.”
    â€œShort, you mean.”
    â€œWell, if you insist on being literal, I’m short and dumpy. And as long as I’m in confession mode, I wasn’t born with this shade of hair, either.” Laughter trembled on her lips and sparkled through her green contact lenses.
    He crooked a grin. “Neither was I. The hair thing.”
    â€œYou mean you weren’t born gray?” she asked, all innocence.
    â€œBelieve it or not, I started out as a blond. By the time I was twenty it had turned dark. And yeah, lately the colors have started to change again.”
    â€œI started out the color of broom sedge, which is sort of red, I guess. Once I discovered my creative side, I started playing around with colors.”
    He looked pointedly at her hair. It was currently somewhere between spice-red and maroon and had been cut in varying lengths and gathered up so that it looked carelessly disheveled. “I look ghastly as a brunette,” she admitted cheerfully. “I tried several shades of blond, but you know what? I don’t care what they say, I never had that much fun as a blonde.”
    â€œAnd fun’s the name of the game, right, Ms. Napoleon?”
    â€œNope. The name of the game is power,” she said gravely, and then burst out laughing. “You’re fun, did you know that?”
    â€œOh, yeah—everybody says so. Regular life of the party. Here, let me refill that glass for you.” He stood, knowing he should leave before he got in any deeper.What was it about this woman that made him want to