Read Online The Men of Thorne Island by Cynthia Thomason - Free Book Online
Authors: Cynthia Thomason
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telling you anything about these men, but I will tell you one thing—it’s a piece of advice you’d do well to heed. This development thing, it’s been tried before, and it didn’t work.”
“You mean the Golden Isles project?”
His eyes rounded and he drew in a sharp breath. He looked as if she’d physically struck him. “What do you know about that?”
“Only that what I’m proposing is nothing like what that company wanted to do. I’m not even considering selling plots of land.”
Relief softened his features but apparently didn’t lessen his anger. “Right. You only want to turn Thorne Island into a circus.”
Sara shook her head in dismay. This man had the most irritating habit of exaggerating everything she said. “I do not. I only want to—”
“Leave the island alone, Sara. If you want to play accountant, go back to Florida and crunch numbers all you want. We like things the way they are.”
She threw her hands in the air. “Oh, really? You like eating tomato soup and taking naps and watching your world crumble into decay?”
“And not obsessing about where our next dollar is coming from, yes!”
He wrapped his hands around her shoulders the way he’d done that afternoon, but this time his grip was forceful. Sara wasn’t afraid. She stared into his pewter eyes and blasted him with the same words he’d said to her the day before. “If you’re trying to scare me to death, it won’t work.” She let her lips curl into a satisfied grin. “I can outrun you, Bass.”
His fingers flexed just before his hold on her moved to her upper arms and tightened. A tremor ran through his body and shuddered into hers. “God, you are one aggravating pencil pusher,” he ground out.
She thrust her chin at him. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you, Bass?”
He sucked in a breath and held it, his gaze fixed intently on her face. “You want to know what’s bothering me? Okay, I’ll tell you. You’re what’s bothering me. You and your accounting principles, formulas and plans for modernizing things, and you…just you.” He stopped talking, pulled her to him.
Before Sara could make an evasive move, his mouth was on hers. The kiss was hard and hungry, fired with frustration and the indefinable essence of powerful maleness. It tasted of Italian spices and tangy wine and filled her senses with something infinitely dangerous, undeniably provocative.
When he raised his head, she released a warm, drugged breath that ruffled the hair on his forehead. She swallowed hard. “Why did you do that?” she asked.
“Don’t expect any explanation,” he snapped at her. “Because I don’t have one that would satisfy either one of us. Just think of it as my way of saying thanks for dinner.” He strode from the kitchen without looking back.
A simple thank-you might have been more conventional, she thought. But it wouldn’t have left such a lasting impression.
CHAPTER FIVE
“N ICK , COME ON ! For pity’s sake, time’s wasting!”
The urgent call from outside her window jolted Sara from a light sleep. She sat up in bed and focused on the sound.
“Let’s go, Nickie!”
There was no mistaking that grumpy voice. Sara knew before she even reached the window that it was Brody issuing orders from in front of the inn.
“What is it with men?” she grumbled. “Is it some rite of manhood, this having to prove they can irritate the rest of society before the sun’s even up?”
Next she heard Nick’s irritated response coming from his window. “Keep your shirt on, Brody. For God’s sake, you start this little exercise earlier every time!”
Sara peered out the window at the walkway below. What the heck are they doing? She couldn’t see anything of Brody, since he was hidden under the metal canopy of a motorized golf cart. Just as she was getting the courage to widen the shutter opening for a better look, Brody poked his head out the side of the cart and risked a glance at her
“You mean the Golden Isles project?”
His eyes rounded and he drew in a sharp breath. He looked as if she’d physically struck him. “What do you know about that?”
“Only that what I’m proposing is nothing like what that company wanted to do. I’m not even considering selling plots of land.”
Relief softened his features but apparently didn’t lessen his anger. “Right. You only want to turn Thorne Island into a circus.”
Sara shook her head in dismay. This man had the most irritating habit of exaggerating everything she said. “I do not. I only want to—”
“Leave the island alone, Sara. If you want to play accountant, go back to Florida and crunch numbers all you want. We like things the way they are.”
She threw her hands in the air. “Oh, really? You like eating tomato soup and taking naps and watching your world crumble into decay?”
“And not obsessing about where our next dollar is coming from, yes!”
He wrapped his hands around her shoulders the way he’d done that afternoon, but this time his grip was forceful. Sara wasn’t afraid. She stared into his pewter eyes and blasted him with the same words he’d said to her the day before. “If you’re trying to scare me to death, it won’t work.” She let her lips curl into a satisfied grin. “I can outrun you, Bass.”
His fingers flexed just before his hold on her moved to her upper arms and tightened. A tremor ran through his body and shuddered into hers. “God, you are one aggravating pencil pusher,” he ground out.
She thrust her chin at him. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you, Bass?”
He sucked in a breath and held it, his gaze fixed intently on her face. “You want to know what’s bothering me? Okay, I’ll tell you. You’re what’s bothering me. You and your accounting principles, formulas and plans for modernizing things, and you…just you.” He stopped talking, pulled her to him.
Before Sara could make an evasive move, his mouth was on hers. The kiss was hard and hungry, fired with frustration and the indefinable essence of powerful maleness. It tasted of Italian spices and tangy wine and filled her senses with something infinitely dangerous, undeniably provocative.
When he raised his head, she released a warm, drugged breath that ruffled the hair on his forehead. She swallowed hard. “Why did you do that?” she asked.
“Don’t expect any explanation,” he snapped at her. “Because I don’t have one that would satisfy either one of us. Just think of it as my way of saying thanks for dinner.” He strode from the kitchen without looking back.
A simple thank-you might have been more conventional, she thought. But it wouldn’t have left such a lasting impression.
CHAPTER FIVE
“N ICK , COME ON ! For pity’s sake, time’s wasting!”
The urgent call from outside her window jolted Sara from a light sleep. She sat up in bed and focused on the sound.
“Let’s go, Nickie!”
There was no mistaking that grumpy voice. Sara knew before she even reached the window that it was Brody issuing orders from in front of the inn.
“What is it with men?” she grumbled. “Is it some rite of manhood, this having to prove they can irritate the rest of society before the sun’s even up?”
Next she heard Nick’s irritated response coming from his window. “Keep your shirt on, Brody. For God’s sake, you start this little exercise earlier every time!”
Sara peered out the window at the walkway below. What the heck are they doing? She couldn’t see anything of Brody, since he was hidden under the metal canopy of a motorized golf cart. Just as she was getting the courage to widen the shutter opening for a better look, Brody poked his head out the side of the cart and risked a glance at her
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