Read Online The Billionaire's Runaway Bride by Elizabeth Lennox - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Lennox
Ads: Link
things that had been said, but she didn’t like to remember them.
She laughed nervously. “Believe it or not, that’s extremely hard for me to believe,” she said. “But if you really like it and aren’t just teasing me, I’ll leave it down.”
She went to her closet and picked up her shoes, loving the way her hair fell forward, caressing her neck and brushing the sides of her face. She wished she was wearing a sleeveless dress so she could feel her hair against her shoulders. What an awful thing to consider, she told herself. What would her father think?
That thought had her standing straight up and staring at Jason. He was pulling on his own shoes and didn’t realize she was looking at him and she was glad. For the thought had just struck her that her father was no longer here. And Jason liked her hair. Or at least he said he did. She couldn’t tell if he was telling her the truth or not but it was nice of him to just say the words.
She’d originally thought that Jason was an exceptionally kind person but living with him for the duration of their short, aborted marriage made her realize that he wasn’t very kind to anyone but her. Oh, he was considerate and polite to others, especially the household staff members. But she’d read too many news articles about his business practices. She knew that he was what others considered a shark. The term merciless was often applied to him as he found, bought and capitulated on areas of the business world others didn’t find profitable.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tall frame walking up to stand right next to her. His hand came to touch the curling strands of titian hair that were now tumbling around her shoulders. “You look startled. What is on your mind?”
She looked into his dark blue eyes that showed no emotions unless she really watched him and smiled. “You really like my hair?” she couldn’t help but ask.
His forehead furrowed in anger and yet more confusion. “Why is that so hard to believe? Who doesn’t like your hair? Has someone said something recently about it? If so, I want their names, Sophie,” he demanded. He wasn’t being kind now. In fact, he looked absolutely determined to hear her answer.
She stepped back from him, needing a little space but shook her head. She smiled slightly, as if the smile might add to the confusion about her hair color. “It isn’t important.”
Jason’s look told her he wasn’t satisfied with her answer. “I think it is very important. Somehow, someone has made you self-conscious. Is that the reason you’ve always worn it pulled back into something that looks like torture?” he asked. “Was it your father? Did he make you feel bad about it in some way?” but the phone rang, saving her from answering his question. She was too startled by his guess to have answered anyway. How had the man deduced so quickly who had made her feel bad about her hair? It was such a simple thing, but it still warmed her frozen heart slightly.
He stalked over to the phone and answered it impatiently, obviously wanting to hear her answer more than he wanted to find out who was on the other end of the phone. But in the end, the phone won out, simply because the sound was so intrusive. A moment later, he turned back to her and said, “The car is waiting out front. Are you ready to go?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” she replied, turning immediately to the door, grateful that she was able to avoid the previous conversation.
“Sophie,” his deep voice stopped her as her hand rested on the door knob. “This discussion is not over. We’re going to discuss this further. I have a feeling there’s more to this issue than simply your hair, isn’t there?”
She looked up at him and shivered, understanding that there was a steel note in his voice. She didn’t answer him though. She walked out of the room ahead of him, again wishing that she had something other than
She laughed nervously. “Believe it or not, that’s extremely hard for me to believe,” she said. “But if you really like it and aren’t just teasing me, I’ll leave it down.”
She went to her closet and picked up her shoes, loving the way her hair fell forward, caressing her neck and brushing the sides of her face. She wished she was wearing a sleeveless dress so she could feel her hair against her shoulders. What an awful thing to consider, she told herself. What would her father think?
That thought had her standing straight up and staring at Jason. He was pulling on his own shoes and didn’t realize she was looking at him and she was glad. For the thought had just struck her that her father was no longer here. And Jason liked her hair. Or at least he said he did. She couldn’t tell if he was telling her the truth or not but it was nice of him to just say the words.
She’d originally thought that Jason was an exceptionally kind person but living with him for the duration of their short, aborted marriage made her realize that he wasn’t very kind to anyone but her. Oh, he was considerate and polite to others, especially the household staff members. But she’d read too many news articles about his business practices. She knew that he was what others considered a shark. The term merciless was often applied to him as he found, bought and capitulated on areas of the business world others didn’t find profitable.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tall frame walking up to stand right next to her. His hand came to touch the curling strands of titian hair that were now tumbling around her shoulders. “You look startled. What is on your mind?”
She looked into his dark blue eyes that showed no emotions unless she really watched him and smiled. “You really like my hair?” she couldn’t help but ask.
His forehead furrowed in anger and yet more confusion. “Why is that so hard to believe? Who doesn’t like your hair? Has someone said something recently about it? If so, I want their names, Sophie,” he demanded. He wasn’t being kind now. In fact, he looked absolutely determined to hear her answer.
She stepped back from him, needing a little space but shook her head. She smiled slightly, as if the smile might add to the confusion about her hair color. “It isn’t important.”
Jason’s look told her he wasn’t satisfied with her answer. “I think it is very important. Somehow, someone has made you self-conscious. Is that the reason you’ve always worn it pulled back into something that looks like torture?” he asked. “Was it your father? Did he make you feel bad about it in some way?” but the phone rang, saving her from answering his question. She was too startled by his guess to have answered anyway. How had the man deduced so quickly who had made her feel bad about her hair? It was such a simple thing, but it still warmed her frozen heart slightly.
He stalked over to the phone and answered it impatiently, obviously wanting to hear her answer more than he wanted to find out who was on the other end of the phone. But in the end, the phone won out, simply because the sound was so intrusive. A moment later, he turned back to her and said, “The car is waiting out front. Are you ready to go?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” she replied, turning immediately to the door, grateful that she was able to avoid the previous conversation.
“Sophie,” his deep voice stopped her as her hand rested on the door knob. “This discussion is not over. We’re going to discuss this further. I have a feeling there’s more to this issue than simply your hair, isn’t there?”
She looked up at him and shivered, understanding that there was a steel note in his voice. She didn’t answer him though. She walked out of the room ahead of him, again wishing that she had something other than
Similar Books
