Read Online The Cinderella Deal by Jennifer Crusie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Crusie
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and he took a deep breath and stepped back. “I’m fine.”
Daisy sat down on the edge of one of the double beds, still glowing, and her slip rode up her thighs. She had excellent long legs that she stretched out in front of her as she talked. “Chickie kept hinting all afternoon, but I couldn’t believe it. Are you going to tell me what happened? Your speech must have been great.”
“It wasn’t just the speech.” Linc sat down on the end of the other bed, trying to keep his eyes somewhere in the vicinity of her forehead. “Crawford didn’t give a damn about the speech, although Booker did.” The memory of the speech came back, and he forgot Daisy had a body while he reveled in his victory again. “Booker loved the speech, but Crawford was hooked the moment you smiled at him. Thank God this college has such a small hiring committee. Make sure you tell him you love Prescott tonight at the party.”
“I do.” Daisy moved back into the center of the bed and stretched her legs out, crossing her ankles. “You should have seen the tour Chickie gave me.”
Linc looked at her legs again. Somebody should do her a favor and burn all those long skirts. She had terrific legs. And they went all the way up.
Think of something else
, he told himself, and looked at her face. “Crawford is crazy about you.”
“I think he’s just plain crazy, period.” Daisy rolled off the bed and Linc tried not to look at her round butt as she slid to her feet. She headed to the bathroom, picking up her dress as she went. “I feel sorry for his poor wife.”
“Chickie?” Linc was confused. “Why?”
“She’s so lonely.” Daisy’s voice floated back to him. “She’s just dying to have a surrogate daughter, and if their marriage was any good, she wouldn’t need one. She’d have him to talk to.” She came back out, zipping up the virgin dress as she walked, and he felt confused again, remembering the slip and the body under it at the same time he registered that she looked like a child. “I can’t get over how you look in that dress. I feel like a child molester.”
Daisy hesitated. “Do I look bad?”
“No.” He tried to analyze how she did look. “Just provocative. Like a hot fairy tale. Sort of like Cinderella in heat.”
He had a momentary vision of bouncing Daisy on the bed, sliding his hand up her hip, feeling her underneath him as those long legs—
“Linc?”
Make a note to stay out of motel rooms with Daisy
, he told himself. “Nothing,” he told her, and went to get ready for the party.
Daisy saw the Crawford house as Tara North: big columns, lots of drapery, flowers, gardens, statuary, everything that spelled opulent living, all in pink and white. “I do declare,” she said to Linc under her breath, and he whispered back, “Behave, Magnolia.”
She really tried.
Crawford practically drooled down her neckline, and said, “You really are a daisy,” and she smiled back, even when he patted her rear end.
A thousand dollars is not enough,
she thought, but a deal was a deal. Professor Booker seemed a little staggered at first and then welcomed her politely. “You’re not at all what I expected,” he told her, and she smiled at him, turning on the charm as ordered. He blinked once, and then introduced her to his wife, Lacey, who was open and warm in her welcome and got a real smile in exchange. Later Booker moved to one side of the room and laughed quietly into his drink until Lacey nudged him with her elbow, and Daisy thought,
We’re not fooling either one of them,
and liked them even more. A professor with a long, mournful face introduced himself. “I’m Evan York. History. Interesting dress. It probably won’t wash well.” His smile was brief but genuine, and Daisy liked him a lot too. There was something endearing about anyone that depressed.
There was nothing endearing about the last professor who introduced herself, a small blonde with a lovely face. “I’m Caroline Honeycutt,
Daisy sat down on the edge of one of the double beds, still glowing, and her slip rode up her thighs. She had excellent long legs that she stretched out in front of her as she talked. “Chickie kept hinting all afternoon, but I couldn’t believe it. Are you going to tell me what happened? Your speech must have been great.”
“It wasn’t just the speech.” Linc sat down on the end of the other bed, trying to keep his eyes somewhere in the vicinity of her forehead. “Crawford didn’t give a damn about the speech, although Booker did.” The memory of the speech came back, and he forgot Daisy had a body while he reveled in his victory again. “Booker loved the speech, but Crawford was hooked the moment you smiled at him. Thank God this college has such a small hiring committee. Make sure you tell him you love Prescott tonight at the party.”
“I do.” Daisy moved back into the center of the bed and stretched her legs out, crossing her ankles. “You should have seen the tour Chickie gave me.”
Linc looked at her legs again. Somebody should do her a favor and burn all those long skirts. She had terrific legs. And they went all the way up.
Think of something else
, he told himself, and looked at her face. “Crawford is crazy about you.”
“I think he’s just plain crazy, period.” Daisy rolled off the bed and Linc tried not to look at her round butt as she slid to her feet. She headed to the bathroom, picking up her dress as she went. “I feel sorry for his poor wife.”
“Chickie?” Linc was confused. “Why?”
“She’s so lonely.” Daisy’s voice floated back to him. “She’s just dying to have a surrogate daughter, and if their marriage was any good, she wouldn’t need one. She’d have him to talk to.” She came back out, zipping up the virgin dress as she walked, and he felt confused again, remembering the slip and the body under it at the same time he registered that she looked like a child. “I can’t get over how you look in that dress. I feel like a child molester.”
Daisy hesitated. “Do I look bad?”
“No.” He tried to analyze how she did look. “Just provocative. Like a hot fairy tale. Sort of like Cinderella in heat.”
He had a momentary vision of bouncing Daisy on the bed, sliding his hand up her hip, feeling her underneath him as those long legs—
“Linc?”
Make a note to stay out of motel rooms with Daisy
, he told himself. “Nothing,” he told her, and went to get ready for the party.
Daisy saw the Crawford house as Tara North: big columns, lots of drapery, flowers, gardens, statuary, everything that spelled opulent living, all in pink and white. “I do declare,” she said to Linc under her breath, and he whispered back, “Behave, Magnolia.”
She really tried.
Crawford practically drooled down her neckline, and said, “You really are a daisy,” and she smiled back, even when he patted her rear end.
A thousand dollars is not enough,
she thought, but a deal was a deal. Professor Booker seemed a little staggered at first and then welcomed her politely. “You’re not at all what I expected,” he told her, and she smiled at him, turning on the charm as ordered. He blinked once, and then introduced her to his wife, Lacey, who was open and warm in her welcome and got a real smile in exchange. Later Booker moved to one side of the room and laughed quietly into his drink until Lacey nudged him with her elbow, and Daisy thought,
We’re not fooling either one of them,
and liked them even more. A professor with a long, mournful face introduced himself. “I’m Evan York. History. Interesting dress. It probably won’t wash well.” His smile was brief but genuine, and Daisy liked him a lot too. There was something endearing about anyone that depressed.
There was nothing endearing about the last professor who introduced herself, a small blonde with a lovely face. “I’m Caroline Honeycutt,
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