Read Online More Than Friends (The Warriors) by Laura Taylor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laura Taylor
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photograph to her, aware of how precious family memorabilia of any kind had always been to her.
"You’re wearing a tux in the picture, so I assume you were in the wedding party, too."
"That’s right. Your parents always made me feel like part of the family."
"Are they alive?"
"Your folks? Yes, of course."
"And all those brothers and sisters I don’t remember?"
"Absolutely. No worries, alright? I’d tell you."
"Thank you," she whispered.
After a long moment, she handed a second photograph to Brett. Their fingertips brushed. Leah sucked in a breath, her gaze shifting to his face. He peered back at her, pretending he hadn’t felt the hot spark that had just passed between them.
"My parents?" she confirmed, her voice sounding very nearly breathless.
Brett recalled that unique sound more clearly than he wanted. He ached just thinking about what it would be like to hear her whispered words of pleasure as their bodies merged and she wrapped her arms and legs around him.
"Yes, your parents."
He returned the photograph to Leah. She resumed her study of their faces, preoccupied enough, he hoped, not to notice that his hunger for her was close to disabling him.
"Their names are Helene and Martin Holbrook," he told her.
She looked up from the photo. "Are they as nice as they look?"
"Even more so. They’re still in love with each other, and it shows. They adore their children and grandchildren. They’ve always reminded me of two sides of the same coin. Unique individuals, but permanently mated."
"I look like my mother, don’t I?"
"All the girls in the family resemble Helene." Brett grinned. "But she’s a very even tempered woman."
"And I’m not?" she asked, bristling a little.
"No, you’re not. But then, neither are your sisters."
She glared at him.
He smiled and then dealt with her annoyance. "You tend to be self–contained until you’re pushed too hard. Then, you do a pretty good imitation of an explosive device."
"Lovely," she muttered.
"It doesn’t happen that often." He chuckled. "What do you think of yourself so far?"
"I honestly don’t know what to think, especially since you’ve just told me I have the temperament of a grenade."
Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on the edge of the table. "Shall I tell you what I think of you, Leah Holbrook?" He knew the instant the words passed his lips that he was tempting fate.
Leah frowned, but then her curiosity got the best of her. "Bring it on."
"You’re one of the most unique women I’ve ever known. You’re sensitive and loving and fiercely loyal. You may have a temper, but you control it. I doubt that you’ve ever intentionally hurt anyone in your entire life. You just don’t have it in you to be cruel to people."
"And I’m being nominated for sainthood when?"
He grinned.
"You look way too satisfied with yourself right now." She tossed her napkin at him.
He caught the square of fabric and set it aside.
"One more," she said, using the tip of a fingernail to nudge the last photograph in his direction.
His expression sobered as he caught sight of the shot of several children gathered around Leah as they all sat atop a picnic table. "This one must be from the Yellowstone camping trip."
He couldn’t drag his eyes from the face of his son. Several moments passed before he met Leah’s gaze.
"Why do you look so sad?" she asked.
He wanted to say, I’m sad because I’m missing my son’s life. Instead, he offered, "This was taken last summer at the official Holbrook family reunion. Everyone except Micah…" and yours truly, he amended silently. "…managed to attend."
"The children. Do I know them all?"
Yellow caution flags waved in his mind. "Of course, although there are a few strays in the group, but most are Holbrook grandchildren," he confirmed.
She looked at him, frustration and hope in her expression. "They look like good kids."
He nodded. "They are."
She admitted, "When I studied this particular photo earlier, I thought
"You’re wearing a tux in the picture, so I assume you were in the wedding party, too."
"That’s right. Your parents always made me feel like part of the family."
"Are they alive?"
"Your folks? Yes, of course."
"And all those brothers and sisters I don’t remember?"
"Absolutely. No worries, alright? I’d tell you."
"Thank you," she whispered.
After a long moment, she handed a second photograph to Brett. Their fingertips brushed. Leah sucked in a breath, her gaze shifting to his face. He peered back at her, pretending he hadn’t felt the hot spark that had just passed between them.
"My parents?" she confirmed, her voice sounding very nearly breathless.
Brett recalled that unique sound more clearly than he wanted. He ached just thinking about what it would be like to hear her whispered words of pleasure as their bodies merged and she wrapped her arms and legs around him.
"Yes, your parents."
He returned the photograph to Leah. She resumed her study of their faces, preoccupied enough, he hoped, not to notice that his hunger for her was close to disabling him.
"Their names are Helene and Martin Holbrook," he told her.
She looked up from the photo. "Are they as nice as they look?"
"Even more so. They’re still in love with each other, and it shows. They adore their children and grandchildren. They’ve always reminded me of two sides of the same coin. Unique individuals, but permanently mated."
"I look like my mother, don’t I?"
"All the girls in the family resemble Helene." Brett grinned. "But she’s a very even tempered woman."
"And I’m not?" she asked, bristling a little.
"No, you’re not. But then, neither are your sisters."
She glared at him.
He smiled and then dealt with her annoyance. "You tend to be self–contained until you’re pushed too hard. Then, you do a pretty good imitation of an explosive device."
"Lovely," she muttered.
"It doesn’t happen that often." He chuckled. "What do you think of yourself so far?"
"I honestly don’t know what to think, especially since you’ve just told me I have the temperament of a grenade."
Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on the edge of the table. "Shall I tell you what I think of you, Leah Holbrook?" He knew the instant the words passed his lips that he was tempting fate.
Leah frowned, but then her curiosity got the best of her. "Bring it on."
"You’re one of the most unique women I’ve ever known. You’re sensitive and loving and fiercely loyal. You may have a temper, but you control it. I doubt that you’ve ever intentionally hurt anyone in your entire life. You just don’t have it in you to be cruel to people."
"And I’m being nominated for sainthood when?"
He grinned.
"You look way too satisfied with yourself right now." She tossed her napkin at him.
He caught the square of fabric and set it aside.
"One more," she said, using the tip of a fingernail to nudge the last photograph in his direction.
His expression sobered as he caught sight of the shot of several children gathered around Leah as they all sat atop a picnic table. "This one must be from the Yellowstone camping trip."
He couldn’t drag his eyes from the face of his son. Several moments passed before he met Leah’s gaze.
"Why do you look so sad?" she asked.
He wanted to say, I’m sad because I’m missing my son’s life. Instead, he offered, "This was taken last summer at the official Holbrook family reunion. Everyone except Micah…" and yours truly, he amended silently. "…managed to attend."
"The children. Do I know them all?"
Yellow caution flags waved in his mind. "Of course, although there are a few strays in the group, but most are Holbrook grandchildren," he confirmed.
She looked at him, frustration and hope in her expression. "They look like good kids."
He nodded. "They are."
She admitted, "When I studied this particular photo earlier, I thought
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