Read Online Simply Irresistible by Rachel Gibson - Free Book Online
Authors: Rachel Gibson
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remembered Ernie and a breathy laugh escaped her throat. “I’ve never been tackled before. Does this usually work for you?” Surely John wouldn’t expect her to sleep with him while his grandfather was in the next room. Relief washed through her.
“What’s the matter? Didn’t you like it?”
Georgeanne smiled up into his eyes. “Well, I could make a suggestion.”
Rising to his knees, he looked down at her. “I’ll just bet you could,” he said as he stood.
Instantly she felt the loss of body heat and struggled to a sitting position. “Flowers. They’re more subtle, but get your message across just the same.”
John held out a hand to Georgeanne and helped her to her feet. He never sent flowers to women anymore, not since the day he’d ordered dozens of pink roses placed on the lid of his wife’s white coffin.
He dropped Georgeanne’s hand and pushed the memory aside before it got too painful. Focusing his attention on Georgeanne, he watched her turn at the waist to wipe sand from her behind. He deliberately let his gaze slide down her body. She had tangles in her hair, sand on her knees, and her red toenails were a strange contrast to her dirty feet. The green shorts clung to her thighs, and his old black T-shirt looked as if it had been laminated to her breasts. Her nipples were hard from the cold and stuck out like little berries. Beneath him she’d felt good—too good. And he’d stayed much too long pressed into her soft body and staring down into her pretty green eyes.
“Did you get ahold of your aunt?” he asked as he bent down to pick up his sunglasses from the ground.
“Ahh... not yet.”
“Well, you can call again once we get back.” John straightened, then turned to walk across the beach toward his house.
“I’ll try,” she said, catching up with him and matching his long strides. “But it’s Aunt Lolly’s bingo night, so I don’t think she’ll be home for a few more hours.”
John glanced at her, then slipped on his Ray-Bans. “How long do her bingo games last?”
“Well, that depends on how many of those little cards she buys. Now, if she decides to play at the old grange hall, she doesn’t play as long because they allow smoking, and Aunt Lolly absolutely hates cigarette smoke, and of course, Doralee Hofferman plays at the grange. And there’s been real bad blood between Lolly and Doralee since 1979 when Doralee stole Lolly’s peanut patty recipe and called it her own. The two had been the best of friends, you understand, up until—”
“Here we go again,” John sighed, interrupting her. “Listen, Georgie,” he said, and stopped to look at her. “We’re never going to get through tonight if you don’t stop this.”
“Stop what?”
“Rambling.”
Her pouty mouth fell open and she placed an innocent palm on the top of her left breast. “I ramble?”
“Yes, and it gets on my nerves. I don’t give a goddamn about your aunt’s Jell-O, foot-washing Baptists, or peanut patties. Can’t you just talk like a normal person?”
She dropped her gaze, but not before he saw the wounded look in her eyes. “You don’t think I talk like a normal person?”
A twinge of guilt pricked his conscience. He didn’t want to hurt her, but at the same time, he didn’t want to listen to hours of her meandering chitchat either. “Not really, no. But when I ask you a question that should require a three-second answer, I get three minutes of bullshit that has nothing to do with anything.”
She bit her bottom lip, then said, “I’m not stupid, John.”
“I never meant that you were,” he contended, even though he didn’t figure she’d been valedictorian at that university she said she’d attended. “Look, Georgie,” he added because she looked so hurt, “I’ll tell you what, if you don’t ramble, I’ll try not to be an ass.”
The corners of her mouth formed a doubtful frown.
“Don’t you believe me?”
Shaking her head, she scoffed, “I told you
“What’s the matter? Didn’t you like it?”
Georgeanne smiled up into his eyes. “Well, I could make a suggestion.”
Rising to his knees, he looked down at her. “I’ll just bet you could,” he said as he stood.
Instantly she felt the loss of body heat and struggled to a sitting position. “Flowers. They’re more subtle, but get your message across just the same.”
John held out a hand to Georgeanne and helped her to her feet. He never sent flowers to women anymore, not since the day he’d ordered dozens of pink roses placed on the lid of his wife’s white coffin.
He dropped Georgeanne’s hand and pushed the memory aside before it got too painful. Focusing his attention on Georgeanne, he watched her turn at the waist to wipe sand from her behind. He deliberately let his gaze slide down her body. She had tangles in her hair, sand on her knees, and her red toenails were a strange contrast to her dirty feet. The green shorts clung to her thighs, and his old black T-shirt looked as if it had been laminated to her breasts. Her nipples were hard from the cold and stuck out like little berries. Beneath him she’d felt good—too good. And he’d stayed much too long pressed into her soft body and staring down into her pretty green eyes.
“Did you get ahold of your aunt?” he asked as he bent down to pick up his sunglasses from the ground.
“Ahh... not yet.”
“Well, you can call again once we get back.” John straightened, then turned to walk across the beach toward his house.
“I’ll try,” she said, catching up with him and matching his long strides. “But it’s Aunt Lolly’s bingo night, so I don’t think she’ll be home for a few more hours.”
John glanced at her, then slipped on his Ray-Bans. “How long do her bingo games last?”
“Well, that depends on how many of those little cards she buys. Now, if she decides to play at the old grange hall, she doesn’t play as long because they allow smoking, and Aunt Lolly absolutely hates cigarette smoke, and of course, Doralee Hofferman plays at the grange. And there’s been real bad blood between Lolly and Doralee since 1979 when Doralee stole Lolly’s peanut patty recipe and called it her own. The two had been the best of friends, you understand, up until—”
“Here we go again,” John sighed, interrupting her. “Listen, Georgie,” he said, and stopped to look at her. “We’re never going to get through tonight if you don’t stop this.”
“Stop what?”
“Rambling.”
Her pouty mouth fell open and she placed an innocent palm on the top of her left breast. “I ramble?”
“Yes, and it gets on my nerves. I don’t give a goddamn about your aunt’s Jell-O, foot-washing Baptists, or peanut patties. Can’t you just talk like a normal person?”
She dropped her gaze, but not before he saw the wounded look in her eyes. “You don’t think I talk like a normal person?”
A twinge of guilt pricked his conscience. He didn’t want to hurt her, but at the same time, he didn’t want to listen to hours of her meandering chitchat either. “Not really, no. But when I ask you a question that should require a three-second answer, I get three minutes of bullshit that has nothing to do with anything.”
She bit her bottom lip, then said, “I’m not stupid, John.”
“I never meant that you were,” he contended, even though he didn’t figure she’d been valedictorian at that university she said she’d attended. “Look, Georgie,” he added because she looked so hurt, “I’ll tell you what, if you don’t ramble, I’ll try not to be an ass.”
The corners of her mouth formed a doubtful frown.
“Don’t you believe me?”
Shaking her head, she scoffed, “I told you
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