Read Online Just the Man She Needs by Gwynne Forster - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gwynne Forster
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you’ve had the other times I’ve been in your company, I can’t promise about the remainder of the evening.”
“Hmm. In that case I’d better wear my Oxford-gray suit and brown turtleneck sweater, which I think of as my man-tamer.”
“Your what?”
“You heard me correctly. Did you grow up where your grandfather lives?”
“Yes, it’s a tiny hamlet in what we call horse country. My brothers and I still consider that our home, although Damon and I also have residences elsewhere. It’s a beautiful region with bridal paths through wooded areas and along the brooks and little rivers. You can isolate yourself from the world. It’s so peaceful. But it’s a big responsibility for my eighty-three-year-old grandfather, although he has a manager and expert grooms and riding instructors.”
In his mind’s eye, he saw her in a dark gray suit and brown high-neck sweater and cringed. “Felicia, if I promise to be circumspect, as you put it, all evening, will you wear something red tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. Red makes me, uh, want to be kissed. You know…frisky. Do you think you can handle that?”
“Listen, woman, you don’t live that far from me, and I’m still dressed.”
“Tish. Tish. You should be getting ready for bed. You’re setting a bad example for Teddy.”
He stretched out on his back. “Teddy is four. I’m forty, and that is one hell of a difference. Try not to get too frisky tomorrow, not that I wouldn’t enjoy seeing the sophisticated Ms. Parker shake it up. You’re as refreshing as a crisp spring breeze. See you tomorrow evening at seven.”
“Good night, Ashton. Sweet dreams.”
He hung up, wondering what would come next. He’d always thought he was up to any task, but he hadn’t met a woman like Felicia Parker. Sharp, intelligent and quick-witted. Fine. That didn’t impress him too much; he was used to that. But she had that other side of her, the warm, soft sweetness, the sexy femininity that was like hot quicksand. He blew a sharp whistle. He’d be a fool if he didn’t find out what she was really like. If he got sucked in, he’d probably enjoy himself.
Felicia hung up the phone and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and her palms cupping her chin and cheeks. If she had any sense, she’d stay out of Ashton Underwood’s way. There was nothing ordinary about him. Any woman in her right mind would avoid a man with Ashton’s looks, but there was that other side of him that attracted her the way honey drew Winnie the Pooh. Perfectly postured and tailored, as well as good-looking described the circle of men which she worked with and traveled among. But Ashton’s bearing, charismatic personality, manners and apparent values set him apart. Lord, that man was sweet. He surprised her with his seriousness, sweetness and tenderness. And men who came near Ashton Underwood’s looks didn’t usually impress her as being gentlemen. Good looks notwithstanding, he was the man she had dreamed of finding. She wanted to meet Cade. If he was like his brothers, she’d have to ask their grandfather for his recipe for raising boys to become men.
“He won’t do a thing I don’t let him do,” she said to herself, jumped up from her perch on the edge of her bed and ran to her closet. He wanted red; she’d give him red. Her gaze landed on a red-velveteen sleeveless dress with a matching jacket that covered just enough of her hip to make the effect tantalizing.
“If he can’t stand the heat,” she rationalized, “he should stay away from the kitchen.”
The following evening she combed her hair down, put silver hoops in her ears and slipped on the most frivolous spike-heeled shoes she owned. He may as well learn that he was getting two women in one, she told herself and let the laughter pour out of her. She dabbed Givenchy’s Organza perfume in strategic places, glanced in the hall mirror at the total effect and, satisfied that she’d done her best, headed for the door as
“Hmm. In that case I’d better wear my Oxford-gray suit and brown turtleneck sweater, which I think of as my man-tamer.”
“Your what?”
“You heard me correctly. Did you grow up where your grandfather lives?”
“Yes, it’s a tiny hamlet in what we call horse country. My brothers and I still consider that our home, although Damon and I also have residences elsewhere. It’s a beautiful region with bridal paths through wooded areas and along the brooks and little rivers. You can isolate yourself from the world. It’s so peaceful. But it’s a big responsibility for my eighty-three-year-old grandfather, although he has a manager and expert grooms and riding instructors.”
In his mind’s eye, he saw her in a dark gray suit and brown high-neck sweater and cringed. “Felicia, if I promise to be circumspect, as you put it, all evening, will you wear something red tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. Red makes me, uh, want to be kissed. You know…frisky. Do you think you can handle that?”
“Listen, woman, you don’t live that far from me, and I’m still dressed.”
“Tish. Tish. You should be getting ready for bed. You’re setting a bad example for Teddy.”
He stretched out on his back. “Teddy is four. I’m forty, and that is one hell of a difference. Try not to get too frisky tomorrow, not that I wouldn’t enjoy seeing the sophisticated Ms. Parker shake it up. You’re as refreshing as a crisp spring breeze. See you tomorrow evening at seven.”
“Good night, Ashton. Sweet dreams.”
He hung up, wondering what would come next. He’d always thought he was up to any task, but he hadn’t met a woman like Felicia Parker. Sharp, intelligent and quick-witted. Fine. That didn’t impress him too much; he was used to that. But she had that other side of her, the warm, soft sweetness, the sexy femininity that was like hot quicksand. He blew a sharp whistle. He’d be a fool if he didn’t find out what she was really like. If he got sucked in, he’d probably enjoy himself.
Felicia hung up the phone and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and her palms cupping her chin and cheeks. If she had any sense, she’d stay out of Ashton Underwood’s way. There was nothing ordinary about him. Any woman in her right mind would avoid a man with Ashton’s looks, but there was that other side of him that attracted her the way honey drew Winnie the Pooh. Perfectly postured and tailored, as well as good-looking described the circle of men which she worked with and traveled among. But Ashton’s bearing, charismatic personality, manners and apparent values set him apart. Lord, that man was sweet. He surprised her with his seriousness, sweetness and tenderness. And men who came near Ashton Underwood’s looks didn’t usually impress her as being gentlemen. Good looks notwithstanding, he was the man she had dreamed of finding. She wanted to meet Cade. If he was like his brothers, she’d have to ask their grandfather for his recipe for raising boys to become men.
“He won’t do a thing I don’t let him do,” she said to herself, jumped up from her perch on the edge of her bed and ran to her closet. He wanted red; she’d give him red. Her gaze landed on a red-velveteen sleeveless dress with a matching jacket that covered just enough of her hip to make the effect tantalizing.
“If he can’t stand the heat,” she rationalized, “he should stay away from the kitchen.”
The following evening she combed her hair down, put silver hoops in her ears and slipped on the most frivolous spike-heeled shoes she owned. He may as well learn that he was getting two women in one, she told herself and let the laughter pour out of her. She dabbed Givenchy’s Organza perfume in strategic places, glanced in the hall mirror at the total effect and, satisfied that she’d done her best, headed for the door as
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