Read Online Southern Hospitality by Sally Falcon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sally Falcon
Ads: Link
something more contemporary. She was going as Doug Henning, complete with spangled jumpsuit and high-topped sneakers, so David Copperfield had seemed the logical choice. Maybe she should have told him about the magic trick he’d have to perform for his supper and get all the bad news out of the way fast. Last year’s party for Bach’s birthday would have been a piece of cake for Logan because everyone had to play a minuet. Of course, he wouldn’t have liked the knee breeches or powdered wig, she realized, and sat gnawing her lower lip. She should have gotten a tuxedo.
Propping her chin in her clasped hands, she admitted to herself that she hadn’t because she was afraid Logan would look as awful as Sanders did in one. Her poor brother looked like Opus the penguin from the cartoon strip in formal dress. But she knew Logan would look just right. Hadn’t he just sat there in an Oxford-cloth shirt, buttoned all the way to the neck, and looked just fine? The only other men she’d seen carry that off without looking like they’d lost their nerd packs were Cary Grant and Sam Elliott.
“It fits, I think.”
Logan’s husky voice made her head snap up. For a moment, she couldn’t speak. He looked wonderful in the dark clothing. His golden-brown hair was highlighted by the contrast and now his eyes were more blue than gray. The unconstructed jacket accentuated the width of his shoulders, and she didn’t want to even consider what the pants, undoubtedly a size too small, did for the man’s thighs. Who cared if David Copperfield had dark hair and gorgeous black eyes after this?
“Yes, it should do nicely,” Tory agreed, and got slowly to her feet. Now that the initial shock was over, she noticed that there would have to be some adjustments. He’d buttoned the shirt all the way to the top and the shirt cuffs down. He was also standing ramrod straight, as ifhe’d been called to attention for inspection. “Just a few changes and you’ll be set.”
“Who am I?” he asked quietly as she walked around him.
“What?” she said absently, not really hearing his question. She’d suddenly realized what she was going to have to do. She, Victoria Camille Planchet, was going to unbutton the man’s shirt halfway to reveal the chest that haunted her dreams, and she would have to touch him to accomplish it. I really should have gotten the tuxedo.
“Who am I supposed to be?”
Tory stopped a few inches from him, staring down at his wrists and pretending they weren’t centimeters from his well developed thighs. She looked up at him and blinked. “Oh, you’re David Copperfield. Haven’t you seen him on television?”
“Did he make the Statue of Liberty disappear?”
“That’s the one. Give me your hands,” Tory ordered while she gave exaggerated attention to the line of his jacket across his shoulders.
He obeyed immediately, holding them out like a child having his hands checked before dinner. Tory stared at the long, sensitive fingers and the light dusting of golden hairs near his wrists, wondering if she could do this with her eyes closed. Taking a deep breath, she reached for his cuff and unbuttoned it without making too much contact with his warm skin beneath. The second one was easier. Then she swallowed heavily and grasped each hand as she pushed the material of his silk shirt and jacket halfway up his arms.
She took a step back, going through the motions of judiciously studying the effect, all the while mustering her courage to touch him again. Thankfully, he was standing as still as a mannequin. “Okay, now we need to loosen a few buttons.”
She almost gave a yelp of joy when Logan said, “I’ll do it.”
“Hmmm, pull out the collar just a little, and we’ll see if that does the trick, so to speak,” she quipped and gave him an approving grin. He was being so cooperative that she was beginning to wonder why she’d been nervous about the costume.
Logan didn’t dare answer her, knowing his voice
Propping her chin in her clasped hands, she admitted to herself that she hadn’t because she was afraid Logan would look as awful as Sanders did in one. Her poor brother looked like Opus the penguin from the cartoon strip in formal dress. But she knew Logan would look just right. Hadn’t he just sat there in an Oxford-cloth shirt, buttoned all the way to the neck, and looked just fine? The only other men she’d seen carry that off without looking like they’d lost their nerd packs were Cary Grant and Sam Elliott.
“It fits, I think.”
Logan’s husky voice made her head snap up. For a moment, she couldn’t speak. He looked wonderful in the dark clothing. His golden-brown hair was highlighted by the contrast and now his eyes were more blue than gray. The unconstructed jacket accentuated the width of his shoulders, and she didn’t want to even consider what the pants, undoubtedly a size too small, did for the man’s thighs. Who cared if David Copperfield had dark hair and gorgeous black eyes after this?
“Yes, it should do nicely,” Tory agreed, and got slowly to her feet. Now that the initial shock was over, she noticed that there would have to be some adjustments. He’d buttoned the shirt all the way to the top and the shirt cuffs down. He was also standing ramrod straight, as ifhe’d been called to attention for inspection. “Just a few changes and you’ll be set.”
“Who am I?” he asked quietly as she walked around him.
“What?” she said absently, not really hearing his question. She’d suddenly realized what she was going to have to do. She, Victoria Camille Planchet, was going to unbutton the man’s shirt halfway to reveal the chest that haunted her dreams, and she would have to touch him to accomplish it. I really should have gotten the tuxedo.
“Who am I supposed to be?”
Tory stopped a few inches from him, staring down at his wrists and pretending they weren’t centimeters from his well developed thighs. She looked up at him and blinked. “Oh, you’re David Copperfield. Haven’t you seen him on television?”
“Did he make the Statue of Liberty disappear?”
“That’s the one. Give me your hands,” Tory ordered while she gave exaggerated attention to the line of his jacket across his shoulders.
He obeyed immediately, holding them out like a child having his hands checked before dinner. Tory stared at the long, sensitive fingers and the light dusting of golden hairs near his wrists, wondering if she could do this with her eyes closed. Taking a deep breath, she reached for his cuff and unbuttoned it without making too much contact with his warm skin beneath. The second one was easier. Then she swallowed heavily and grasped each hand as she pushed the material of his silk shirt and jacket halfway up his arms.
She took a step back, going through the motions of judiciously studying the effect, all the while mustering her courage to touch him again. Thankfully, he was standing as still as a mannequin. “Okay, now we need to loosen a few buttons.”
She almost gave a yelp of joy when Logan said, “I’ll do it.”
“Hmmm, pull out the collar just a little, and we’ll see if that does the trick, so to speak,” she quipped and gave him an approving grin. He was being so cooperative that she was beginning to wonder why she’d been nervous about the costume.
Logan didn’t dare answer her, knowing his voice
Similar Books
