Read Online Housebound by Anne Stuart - Free Book Online

exasperation and affection. “I’m afraid a new roof is going to have to come first. I only wish we could afford to replace the slate.”
    â€œIt must be rather expensive—the upkeep of a house this size,” he observed casually.
    â€œIt’s like pouring money into a hole in the ground that never gets filled,” she admitted. “But I love it—I don’t begrudge a penny of it.”
    â€œDo the others feel that way?”
    Anne shrugged. “Not really. But then, very little of their money ever makes it to New Jersey. Their life-styles eat up almost every cent they make.”
    â€œSo who supports the house?”
    â€œI do. Proffy’s half-salary just about covers food and gas—most of it goes into his retirement fund. And then there have been the medical bills this year, not to mention that the foundation is crumbling.” She gave herself a tiny shake. “So no food processors for me for the time being. Let’s talk about something more cheerful for a change. Do you think we’ll get more snow?”
    â€œSome people wouldn’t find that so cheerful—especially the road crews and people who have long commutes to work. But yes, I think we’re going to get some more tonight, and then with any luck the storm will move up the East Coast and dump a foot or two on New England.”
    â€œWon’t the road crews and commuters dislike it there, too?”
    â€œI’m sure they’ll hate it. But the skiers will be in seventh heaven.”
    â€œAnd that includes you?”
    â€œThat includes me. Why? Don’t you approve?”
    â€œI think it’s insane. Why would anyone want to slide down a mountainside on two sticks? It’s beyond my comprehension.”
    â€œI guess I’ll have to change your mind.” He dumped the chopped onions into the bowl with hers, and Anne wrinkled her nose.
    â€œI don’t see why. I’ve made it to the advanced age of thirty-four without liking skiing—I imagine I can get through another thirty-four or so the same way.”
    â€œNot if I have anything to say about it.”
    â€œGod save me from a missionary,” Anne said, sighing. “Damn.”
    â€œDamn?” Noah echoed.
    â€œThese onions were so mild I thought they wouldn’t get to my eyes. I’m afraid this last one was more than I could take.” Laughing, she lifted watery, reddened eyes to his, the tears streaming down her face.
    He moved swiftly toward her, placing one strong, warm hand on her shoulder as he lifted the other to her tearstained cheek. His smile was wary.
    â€œVery affecting,” he murmured. “I wish all women laughed when they cried.” His head bent slowly down, and she knew he was going to kiss her; and once more, like a besotted teenager, she was going to let him. Before his mouth met hers, however, he pulled back, slowly, without a trace of guilt. And directly behind her she heard the kitchen door open. Turning, she met the distinctly displeased and surprisingly similar expressions of her sister Holly and Wilson Engalls.
    Â 
    I T WAS HARDLY an auspicious beginning for the evening, and things went steadily downhill from there. The instant antagonism that sprang up between Wilson and Noah, barely restrained, was bad enough. Holly’s intermittent bad temper and remorse only exacerbated the situation. But the absolutely crushing blow, the real stunner, the knockout punch, was when Anne looked up at Wilson’s tall, sturdy figure as she dusted the snow off his broad shoulders, broader than Noah’s lean strength, her eyes wandering over the strong, handsome face, the firm chin, warm brown eyes and finely molded mouth and realized she felt nothing more than sisterly affection.
    â€œHello, darling,” he greeted her in his even, mellifluous voice, coming over to give her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. “How are you feeling? You look rather pale. Has