Read Online The Mogul's Maybe Marriage by Mindy Klasky - Free Book Online Page A

possible date that made any sense at all.
    Sloane leaned back against her rich leather chair. Here it was: a foundation for her entire relationship with Ethan. She glanced at the broad desk situated beneath the mullioned windows. A wireless printer waited to do her bidding. A flurry of keystrokes, and she had a crisp sheet of paper in hand. She read over her words one last time before she folded the document into thirds and tucked it into her purse.
    Just as she was beginning to get hungry, James appeared with a chicken sandwich on a tray. He seemed to understand that Sloane needed time alone though, time to process the changes in her life. He left her in the mahogany-and-leather library until nearly sunset, when he carried in another tray, this one sporting a lightly dressed shrimp salad. “Sloane,” he said, interrupting her as she checked her email. “I’ll be heading home for the evening.”
    â€œHome?”
    He gestured out the window, across the spacious yard. “I live in the carriage house, out back.”
    â€œI thought—” She’d just assumed that James lived in the house. He clearly was responsible for every aspect of the mansion’s smooth operation. Sloane had already come to count on his presence. She’d even considered that James would be a sort of chaperone as she got used to living with the man she was going to marry.
    â€œThis works out better for everyone,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. “A little privacy can go a long way.Every phone in the main building has a direct line to the carriage house. Just press zero if you need me, and it will ring out there.”
    Sloane nodded, but she couldn’t imagine having a property large enough to sport a carriage house. And she certainly couldn’t imagine having a—what? A butler? A housekeeper? A friend? —at her beck and call. “Thank you,” she said a little belatedly. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
    â€œIt’s not often that we have such a lovely visitor in the guest suite.” James winked and left her to her own devices.
    Lovely visitor. Ha. Ethan Hartwell had plenty of lovely visitors. Sloane wasn’t about to forget that.
    But James had no doubt chosen his words carefully. In the guest suite he’d said. Ethan’s usual “lovely visitors” must not stay in the suite. Ethan probably sent them home in the dark of night, before they could get any ideas about settling in for a long stay.
    Sloane closed her eyes, letting her memories catapult her back to the terrace at the Kennedy Center. She remembered the shock of electricity that had jolted through her as Ethan kissed her palm, the liquid heat that had tempted her to change her mind then and there, to dismiss the promise that he had just made, the promise to curb the need that shimmered between them like a physical thing.
    No. She was right to insist on that restraint. She had to prove to Ethan that there was something more between them, something deeper than the pure physical attraction that sparked whenever they were in the same room. She needed to be certain—for herself, and for the baby.
    Sloane closed the laptop, making sure that it wasfirmly latched. She’d grab a book and head upstairs to her room. There was no telling when Ethan was coming home, and she certainly wasn’t going to wait up for him like an overeager puppy. Or a mistress. Heading over to the shelves that she’d studied so many times that day, she picked up Cannery Row. She’d never read the Steinbeck classic, and it looked light. Enjoyable.
    James had left a trail of lights on, guiding her from the library to her suite of rooms. Stepping over the threshold, she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the scent of roses. A riot of three-dozen long-stemmed beauties overflowed a cut-crystal vase on the dresser. White, pink, yellow and peach. Someone had studiously avoided sending any