Read Online Reunion for the First Time by K. M. Daughters - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: K. M. Daughters
Tags: Contemporary
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huff?
“You would play with me again?” Fear slid down her spine.
“Sure I would. Why wouldn’t I? You played a great round. But remind me not to spot you any strokes. Hey, maybe we could play partners and hustle some of my friends.” He grinned.
She grinned back, used to a different reaction from men. Well, Wallace. What a contrast.
Jack picked up the golf bag and hoisted its strap over his shoulder. “Let me know when you’re free for dinner in Chicago so I can pay up.”
“You don’t have to buy me dinner.”
“I never welsh on bets. You can pick the restaurant.”
Lunch at the clubhouse lasted longer than the quick bite they’d intended to grab. A quiet man until he had a beer or two in him to loosen his tongue, Mick entertained Jack with stories of his antics in college, most notably the dogged pursuit of Kay for six months before she relented and dated him. Lizzie had always been part of Kay’s inner sanctum so she added Kay’s perspective to the anecdotes, and it made for laughs and good-natured ribbing.
Mick dropped them at the hotel when the afternoon sun had swung low toward the horizon. The peach-tinged light softened the day. The landscape surrounding the river looked prettier to Lizzie as it filtered through the pastels of impending sunset. She wanted to linger outside and watch the sky grow fiery as the sunlight extinguished, but she needed to get ready for the gala.
Walking through the lobby next to Jack, her contentment with him at her side surprised her. Close together for the few minutes’ elevator ride she almost believed they were a couple.
She slid her key into the slot in her hotel door and turned to him. “We certainly were well matched today, huh Jack?”
“Yes, surprisingly so.” His appreciative look flattered her. “I’ll come by your room at seven.”
Leaning on the doorframe, she watched his progress down the hall, which gave her a nice display of extremely great buns.
He’s a good guy. Maybe I won’t kill Charlie after all.
Chapter Seven
A hollow knock on her door sounded as she fastened the clasp on the back of a strappy sandal. “Door’s open.” Bent over, she worked the tiny piece of metal into the hole on the leather strap.
The door hinge creaked. Footsteps echoed on the tile floor, coming nearer. Bent at the waist, Lizzie fiddled with her shoe. The bottom of pant legs, matte black on rich fabric, swung into view.
Jack halted with a half-skid of his mirror-polished black dress loafers, and cleared his throat. “I think I need a defibrillator, Beth. Red is your color. And I like how little there is of that dress.”
His thick tone of desire sent chills up her spine.
“Thanks.” She straightened, did a little curtsy in place and froze.
Look at you.
Clad in a finely tailored tuxedo, his dark hair slicked back, Jack was the epitome of a dream date. He was classic “black Irish” handsome, narrow straight nose, fair complexion, navy blue eyes that shone with easy confidence. “I could use CPR myself. You look terrific.”
“John P. Clark, date extraordinaire, at your service, ma’am.” He bowed at the waist.
She walked to a side table and picked up her evening purse, thrilled that Jack would accompany her to her next all-important encounter with Wallace. “Ready?”
He swept his gaze over her from the floor to her eyes. Sensuality simmered behind his even stare. “Nice shoes.”
“Manolo Blahniks.” She sighed. “It’s a vice.”
“Well, just keep on sinning.” He walked toward her and stretched out his hand. She looked down at the flat, black jewelry box in his palm.
“What’s this?”
“Charlie told me to give this to you tonight. Claimed you’d appreciate it more than a corsage. I took the liberty of opening it before I came.”
Jack deposited the box in her hand. “I think you’ll like it. Go ahead. Open it.”
Lizzie opened the box gingerly, conflicted about accepting a present from Charlie through Jack. When she saw
“You would play with me again?” Fear slid down her spine.
“Sure I would. Why wouldn’t I? You played a great round. But remind me not to spot you any strokes. Hey, maybe we could play partners and hustle some of my friends.” He grinned.
She grinned back, used to a different reaction from men. Well, Wallace. What a contrast.
Jack picked up the golf bag and hoisted its strap over his shoulder. “Let me know when you’re free for dinner in Chicago so I can pay up.”
“You don’t have to buy me dinner.”
“I never welsh on bets. You can pick the restaurant.”
Lunch at the clubhouse lasted longer than the quick bite they’d intended to grab. A quiet man until he had a beer or two in him to loosen his tongue, Mick entertained Jack with stories of his antics in college, most notably the dogged pursuit of Kay for six months before she relented and dated him. Lizzie had always been part of Kay’s inner sanctum so she added Kay’s perspective to the anecdotes, and it made for laughs and good-natured ribbing.
Mick dropped them at the hotel when the afternoon sun had swung low toward the horizon. The peach-tinged light softened the day. The landscape surrounding the river looked prettier to Lizzie as it filtered through the pastels of impending sunset. She wanted to linger outside and watch the sky grow fiery as the sunlight extinguished, but she needed to get ready for the gala.
Walking through the lobby next to Jack, her contentment with him at her side surprised her. Close together for the few minutes’ elevator ride she almost believed they were a couple.
She slid her key into the slot in her hotel door and turned to him. “We certainly were well matched today, huh Jack?”
“Yes, surprisingly so.” His appreciative look flattered her. “I’ll come by your room at seven.”
Leaning on the doorframe, she watched his progress down the hall, which gave her a nice display of extremely great buns.
He’s a good guy. Maybe I won’t kill Charlie after all.
Chapter Seven
A hollow knock on her door sounded as she fastened the clasp on the back of a strappy sandal. “Door’s open.” Bent over, she worked the tiny piece of metal into the hole on the leather strap.
The door hinge creaked. Footsteps echoed on the tile floor, coming nearer. Bent at the waist, Lizzie fiddled with her shoe. The bottom of pant legs, matte black on rich fabric, swung into view.
Jack halted with a half-skid of his mirror-polished black dress loafers, and cleared his throat. “I think I need a defibrillator, Beth. Red is your color. And I like how little there is of that dress.”
His thick tone of desire sent chills up her spine.
“Thanks.” She straightened, did a little curtsy in place and froze.
Look at you.
Clad in a finely tailored tuxedo, his dark hair slicked back, Jack was the epitome of a dream date. He was classic “black Irish” handsome, narrow straight nose, fair complexion, navy blue eyes that shone with easy confidence. “I could use CPR myself. You look terrific.”
“John P. Clark, date extraordinaire, at your service, ma’am.” He bowed at the waist.
She walked to a side table and picked up her evening purse, thrilled that Jack would accompany her to her next all-important encounter with Wallace. “Ready?”
He swept his gaze over her from the floor to her eyes. Sensuality simmered behind his even stare. “Nice shoes.”
“Manolo Blahniks.” She sighed. “It’s a vice.”
“Well, just keep on sinning.” He walked toward her and stretched out his hand. She looked down at the flat, black jewelry box in his palm.
“What’s this?”
“Charlie told me to give this to you tonight. Claimed you’d appreciate it more than a corsage. I took the liberty of opening it before I came.”
Jack deposited the box in her hand. “I think you’ll like it. Go ahead. Open it.”
Lizzie opened the box gingerly, conflicted about accepting a present from Charlie through Jack. When she saw
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