Read Online Printer in Petticoats by Lynna Banning - Free Book Online Page A

out of turn.”
    â€œI’ll talk it up in the Sentinel and—”
    â€œI’ll do the same in the Lark ,” he finished. He removed his black Stetson and held it over his heart. “Great minds—”
    â€œAre never at a loss. Oh, Cole, it will be fun!”
    â€œAnd a challenge,” he added. “Once Arbuckle gets going, he’s hard to shut up.”
    â€œJericho Silver can shut him up,” she said smugly. “Just you wait and see.”
    * * *
    Just before the next chorus rehearsal, winter struck with a vengeance. All afternoon rain spit against the front window of the Lark office, and by suppertime the sky had turned black and hail was bouncing off the boardwalk.
    At the restaurant, Cole downed a bowl of hot chili and a slab of apple pie, then snugged up his jacket and started off for the music school rehearsal room. Halfway down the boardwalk, he spied Jessamine trudging along ahead of him.
    â€œCan’t hardly sing if our teeth are chattering,” he remarked from three paces behind her.
    â€œâ€˜Can’t hardly’? Heavens, such grammar!” She turned toward him and teetered on the hail-spattered planks. Just as she lost her balance, he snaked out an arm, caught her shoulder and held on while she righted herself.
    â€œI hate winter,” she gasped.
    â€œI’ve always liked it.” He slid his arm around her waist and urged her forward. “Rain makes the corn grow and flowers bloom in the spring. Anything ungrammatical in that?”
    She laughed, and he expelled a sigh of relief. Maybe she wasn’t so prickly on rehearsal nights. Or maybe she was just too cold to talk back. Whatever it was, he liked it when she was quiet.
    Actually, he liked it when she talked back, too.
    After their vocal warm-ups, the director stopped them and made a surprising announcement. “Ladies, on choir rehearsal nights, please dispense with your corsets. You cannot breathe properly when you are all trussed up in whalebone.”
    Cole had a hard time keeping his mind off Jessamine’s body with no corset.
    The director rehearsed them rigorously for an hour, let them take a break, then pushed them even harder. Halfway through the last chorus, something intangible swept through the singers, as if a single bolt of lightning had struck them all simultaneously. The sounds they made were suddenly tinged with magic, and in the middle of the chorale they were singing, they looked at each other in wonder.
    Ellie Johnson’s usually impassive expression melted into dazed surprise, and on impulse Cole turned slightly so he could see Jessamine’s face.
    Her mouth was rounded into a soft, rosy O, and her green eyes were wide-open and bright with unshed tears. A fist slammed into his chest.
    His throat closed up so tight he couldn’t sing if his life depended on it, but it didn’t matter. The swell of the music swept them all up into one of those rare moments when everything came together in perfection.
    Mercy, it was almost like an orgasm.
    His gaze met Jessamine’s, and he stopped breathing. Suddenly he wanted to hold her. Touch her. He wanted to make love to her .
    His own eyes stung. Whoa, what was happening?
    When the chorale ended, the director stood transfixed, and no one spoke for a long minute.
    â€œThat,” Ellie said at last, “does not happen very often. We are attaining something magnificent in this music. Something important.”
    She dismissed the choir members early. People were unusually quiet as they pulled on coats and gloves and bid each other good-night. Cole was still shaken by what had hit him. He caught Jessamine at the door and waylaid her with a hand on her shoulder.
    â€œWalk you home?” he said quietly. She nodded and wound her blue knit scarf over her ears and around her chin.
    When they stepped outside, she gave a little cry. “Look! It’s snowing!”
    Sure enough, powdery flakes were sifting