Read Online Love For Sale by Linda Nightingale - Free Book Online

sofa.”
    “You know exactly the right thing to say. Cuddling sounds good.” She sank down onto the couch, and he massaged her shoulders, fingertips kneading sore muscles.
    “Are you not happy to be home? You’re tense.”
    “I’m happy but a little sad. We had such a great time in England.” She inhaled deeply, letting her head fall back. “You give a good massage. Is there anything you can’t do?”
    Silence stretched the moment. March wriggled around to look at him. Motionless, he gazed into the distance, a tiny frown puckering his brow. He seemeded focused on something far way. Had she offended him? The entire week in London, they hadn’t disagreed on anything.
    “You’re quiet suddenly.” She rose to her knees, faced him, stroking his hand.
    “Sorry. You asked if there was anything I couldn’t do. I was silent while I scanned my memory banks. I can’t find any instance when I’d lack the knowledge or physical capability.”
    He sounded like a robot.
    March shuddered. “Shall I make the drinks?”
    “Stay where you are, dear. Transatlantic flights are tiring. Eight hours in those cramped seats, you must be exhausted.” He sauntered into the small kitchen, opened the fridge, and produced the champagne with a flourish.
    “You don’t get tired, do you?” She hated being reminded he wasn’t human. Last Note to Self: Stop thinking he isn’t human.
    He shook his head. “Where are the champagne glasses?”
    God, he was beautiful standing there with an orange juice carton in his hand. Looking at him, her heart tripped over a beat. She’d never had much luck in the romance department…until nine days ago. Did it matter that he was programmed to love her? Melissa had said he seemed to love her before he was prepared. March had known she loved him the moment she saw him.
    “March?” He gestured at the cabinets. “Champers glasses?”
    “Oh, sorry. They’re in the antique cabinet. Mom gave me that piece. It belonged to her grandmother. The wood is American black walnut.”
    He held two sparkling flutes aloft. “Lovely.”
    The champagne glasses were the only Waterford she owned. After the divorce, with Paul keeping the china and crystal, she’d bought the four glasses on eBay. Tonight’s small celebration was the most important of her life. The lead crystal was definitely required. A man with a purpose, he strode from the kitchen and delivered a Mimosa.
    Pulling the ottoman that served as her coffee table closer, he offered a black ceramic coaster. Their fingers brushed. A thrill as hot as lightning zipped through her. She never wanted that feeling to go away. He placed her drink on the decorative silver tray, his empty glass beside it.
    She smiled, happy beyond words. “You don’t have to pretend to drink with me.”
    “I want to.” He returned her smile, and the light in his eyes made her feel as effervescent as the champagne.
    As she took her first sip, the telephone rang. March flinched at the interruption, the hair at her nape quivering. No need to be psychic to predict the caller. Dread gripped her by the scruff of the neck and shook her.
    As the phone continued to jangle her nerves, Christian frowned. “Shall I?”
    March slid down on the sofa, balancing her drink on her stomach. “Let it ring.”
    “It could be one of the boys.”
    She straightened. “How do you know about the boys?”
    “Your profile,” he said as if the obvious were amusing. “Every aspect was fed into my memory. That’s why you are required to complete the form in such detail.”
    “You know everything about me.” She blew out a long sigh. “I know so little of you.”
    “Not everything. I’ve much to discover and explore. There’s little about me to know until you arrived at Mayfair.” He raised his glass in an imaginary toast. “We’ll have fun learning together.”
    “Absolutely. To us.” She tapped her flute to his, crystal chiming.
    Finally, the phone stopped the infernal ringing. If she knew