Read Online Outbid by the Boss by Stephanie Browning - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephanie Browning
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the last man on earth.
Then why, Samantha dear, is your mouth dry, your heart pounding and your loins throbbing with desire?
Telling herself, a.k.a. the goddess of single women, to shut it, Samantha Redfern dove under the covers and turned out the light. But it was a long time before she fell asleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
Chas was waiting for her in the stable yard, Mrs. Weekes had told her, as she presented Sam with a breakfast tray of tea, croissant, and a poached egg. A pair of riding boots dangled precariously under the housekeeper’s left arm.
“And he hates to be kept waiting. But I guess you know that already,” she added with a wry smile. “He set off to fetch the horses about an hour ago.”
Sam smiled an acknowledgement, but said nothing as Mrs. Weekes set the boots down at the foot of the bed and produced a pair of riding gloves to go with them before she bustled away. It had taken Sam ages to fall asleep last night and she was loath to get into a conversation with the housekeeper. The searing kiss she had shared with Chas had left her in a fever of longing and indecision. She was an interloper in a grand house, and the housekeeper’s presence had reinforced that one irrefutable fact. Chas Porter might be the most exciting man she had ever met, but he was her boss. And she should never, ever forget that he was the one who had tricked her into coming to his home in the country.
Her eyes flickered across the room to the candlestick.
Not that she was without guilt. Another fact she would do well to remember.
Suddenly anxious to be outside, Sam drained the last of her tea and threw back the duvet.
Her wardrobe had not been planned for a week in the country, so the best she could do was jeans and a beaded sweater. It might be a bit too chic for a gallop. Sam shrugged. But it would have to do. She picked up the boots and examined them.
Beautifully made, hardly used, and designed for a more delicate foot than Sam possessed. Grimacing, she forced her feet into the boots and stuck the gloves in her pocket.
Finding her way through the house, Sam blinked as she stepped through the terrace doors and into the gentle sunshine of mid-morning. Rolling lawns spread before her. Beds of old roses in desperate need of a good pruning defined the formal flagstone terrace. Their current neglect was a sad reflection of just how unhappy a house Porter Hall had become. She was beginning to suspect a well-hidden pain behind Chas’ cool exterior. But that, she reminded herself sharply, was none of her business.
Chas was on the far side of the stable yard, standing, with his back to her. He looked magnificent in his boots and riding clothes, like a modern-day Mr. Darcy. Remembering the night before, Sam’s breath quickened. How was she going to face him? Ducking behind the garden wall, Sam watched Chas cinch the saddle of a massive chestnut while another, smaller horse waited nearby, his reddish-brown coat glistening in the sun. If this moment was her penalty for outbidding the boss, Sam thought, then she was deliriously happy.
And no longer tired despite her restless night full of erotic dreams and unfulfilled desires that, until yesterday, were unimaginable. Before last night, Sam had always believed that those kinds of daydreams were for the beautiful. That she would be better off hoping for a man who would appreciate her for who she was and come to know her passionate side. She never would have guessed that a single kiss could rouse her to such unsuspected heights.
The memory brought a soft smile to her lips as she admired the snug fit of Chas’ breeches, the fine leather of his riding boots, and the broad reach of his muscular back and shoulders. She couldn’t wait to see him in the saddle.
Chiding herself for being a silly goose, Sam left the security of the wall and strode across the cobblestone courtyard with forced confidence. She might look like a waif in yesterday’s jeans and today’s borrowed boots,
Then why, Samantha dear, is your mouth dry, your heart pounding and your loins throbbing with desire?
Telling herself, a.k.a. the goddess of single women, to shut it, Samantha Redfern dove under the covers and turned out the light. But it was a long time before she fell asleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
Chas was waiting for her in the stable yard, Mrs. Weekes had told her, as she presented Sam with a breakfast tray of tea, croissant, and a poached egg. A pair of riding boots dangled precariously under the housekeeper’s left arm.
“And he hates to be kept waiting. But I guess you know that already,” she added with a wry smile. “He set off to fetch the horses about an hour ago.”
Sam smiled an acknowledgement, but said nothing as Mrs. Weekes set the boots down at the foot of the bed and produced a pair of riding gloves to go with them before she bustled away. It had taken Sam ages to fall asleep last night and she was loath to get into a conversation with the housekeeper. The searing kiss she had shared with Chas had left her in a fever of longing and indecision. She was an interloper in a grand house, and the housekeeper’s presence had reinforced that one irrefutable fact. Chas Porter might be the most exciting man she had ever met, but he was her boss. And she should never, ever forget that he was the one who had tricked her into coming to his home in the country.
Her eyes flickered across the room to the candlestick.
Not that she was without guilt. Another fact she would do well to remember.
Suddenly anxious to be outside, Sam drained the last of her tea and threw back the duvet.
Her wardrobe had not been planned for a week in the country, so the best she could do was jeans and a beaded sweater. It might be a bit too chic for a gallop. Sam shrugged. But it would have to do. She picked up the boots and examined them.
Beautifully made, hardly used, and designed for a more delicate foot than Sam possessed. Grimacing, she forced her feet into the boots and stuck the gloves in her pocket.
Finding her way through the house, Sam blinked as she stepped through the terrace doors and into the gentle sunshine of mid-morning. Rolling lawns spread before her. Beds of old roses in desperate need of a good pruning defined the formal flagstone terrace. Their current neglect was a sad reflection of just how unhappy a house Porter Hall had become. She was beginning to suspect a well-hidden pain behind Chas’ cool exterior. But that, she reminded herself sharply, was none of her business.
Chas was on the far side of the stable yard, standing, with his back to her. He looked magnificent in his boots and riding clothes, like a modern-day Mr. Darcy. Remembering the night before, Sam’s breath quickened. How was she going to face him? Ducking behind the garden wall, Sam watched Chas cinch the saddle of a massive chestnut while another, smaller horse waited nearby, his reddish-brown coat glistening in the sun. If this moment was her penalty for outbidding the boss, Sam thought, then she was deliriously happy.
And no longer tired despite her restless night full of erotic dreams and unfulfilled desires that, until yesterday, were unimaginable. Before last night, Sam had always believed that those kinds of daydreams were for the beautiful. That she would be better off hoping for a man who would appreciate her for who she was and come to know her passionate side. She never would have guessed that a single kiss could rouse her to such unsuspected heights.
The memory brought a soft smile to her lips as she admired the snug fit of Chas’ breeches, the fine leather of his riding boots, and the broad reach of his muscular back and shoulders. She couldn’t wait to see him in the saddle.
Chiding herself for being a silly goose, Sam left the security of the wall and strode across the cobblestone courtyard with forced confidence. She might look like a waif in yesterday’s jeans and today’s borrowed boots,
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