Read Online The Pride of Jared MacKade by Nora Roberts - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nora Roberts
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where you got your jacket.”
“My jacket?” Bemused, Savannah glanced down. “I made it.”
“You’re kidding.”
Her bottom lip moved into an expression somewhere between a pout and a sneer, and her chin rose in a gesture he now recognized as an indicator of temper simmering. “What? I don’t look like the type who can sew? I don’t fit the happy-homemaker image?”
Intrigued, he rested a hip on the edge of his desk, reached out to rub the brilliantly hued lapel of her jacket between his fingers. “Nice work. What else can you do?”
“Whatever I need to do.” She didn’t bother to protest when he tugged her toward him. Instead, she rested her hands on his shoulders and leaned down into the kiss.
“It’s early,” he murmured.
“Relatively.”
“Where’s Bryan?”
“At Cassie’s.” Mildly surprised he’d bothered to ask, she changed the angle of the kiss and let herself sink in.“I’m going to pick him up about six. I’ve got about a half an hour.”
“It’s going to take longer.” He shifted, took her by the hips and drew her intimately between his legs. “Why don’t you call her and see if he can stay until seven?” His teeth nipped gently over that lovely bottom lip. “Seven-thirty.”
She was going to enjoy getting him out of that tie, Savannah thought. “I suppose I could.”
“Good. You clear it, then we’ll go across the street.”
“Across the street?”
“For an early dinner.”
She drew back, stared at him. “Dinner?”
“Yes.” Almost certain his legs would support him, Jared stood, before he could give in to the urge to tear off her clothes, drag her to the floor and have her. “I’d like to take you to dinner.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d enjoy spending an hour or two with you.” On top of you, he thought. Inside you. God. With every appearance of calm, he skirted the desk and flipped through his address file. “Here’s Cassie’s number.”
“I know Cassie’s number.” It was demoralizing to realize she had to take a good, deep breath to steady herself, when he was just standing there, so coolly, so easily. “What’s going on here, Jared? We both know dinner isn’t necessary.”
His stomach twisted into tight slick knots. He could take her. Right here, right now. It was just that simple. And anything too simple was suspect.
“I’d like to have dinner with you, Savannah. Andconversation.” Picking up the phone, he dialed Cassie’s number himself, held out the receiver. “All right?”
Filled with mistrust, she hesitated. With a shrug, she took the phone. “All right.”
The restaurant was casual, the menu basic American grill. Savannah toyed with her drink and waited for Jared’s next move.
“So, you make clothes.”
“Sometimes.”
Smiling, he leaned back in the wooden booth. “Sometimes?” he repeated, looking at her expectantly.
He wanted to make conversation, she determined. She could make conversation. “I learned because homemade is cheaper than store-bought, and I didn’t want to be naked. Now I make something now and again because I enjoy it.”
“But you make your living as an illustrator, not as a seamstress.”
“I like to work with color, and design. I got lucky.”
“Lucky?”
Wary of the friendly probing, she moved her shoulders. “You don’t want the story of my life, Jared.”
“But I do.” He smiled at the waitress who set their meals in front of them. “Start anywhere,” he said invitingly.
She shook her head, cut into the spicy blackened chicken he’d recommended. “You’ve lived here all your life, haven’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“Big family, old friends and neighbors. Roots.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m going to give my son roots. Not just a roof over his head, but roots.”
He was silent for a moment. There had been a fierceness in her voice, a fiery determination, that he had to admire, even as he wondered at it. “Why here?”
“Because it’s not the West.
“My jacket?” Bemused, Savannah glanced down. “I made it.”
“You’re kidding.”
Her bottom lip moved into an expression somewhere between a pout and a sneer, and her chin rose in a gesture he now recognized as an indicator of temper simmering. “What? I don’t look like the type who can sew? I don’t fit the happy-homemaker image?”
Intrigued, he rested a hip on the edge of his desk, reached out to rub the brilliantly hued lapel of her jacket between his fingers. “Nice work. What else can you do?”
“Whatever I need to do.” She didn’t bother to protest when he tugged her toward him. Instead, she rested her hands on his shoulders and leaned down into the kiss.
“It’s early,” he murmured.
“Relatively.”
“Where’s Bryan?”
“At Cassie’s.” Mildly surprised he’d bothered to ask, she changed the angle of the kiss and let herself sink in.“I’m going to pick him up about six. I’ve got about a half an hour.”
“It’s going to take longer.” He shifted, took her by the hips and drew her intimately between his legs. “Why don’t you call her and see if he can stay until seven?” His teeth nipped gently over that lovely bottom lip. “Seven-thirty.”
She was going to enjoy getting him out of that tie, Savannah thought. “I suppose I could.”
“Good. You clear it, then we’ll go across the street.”
“Across the street?”
“For an early dinner.”
She drew back, stared at him. “Dinner?”
“Yes.” Almost certain his legs would support him, Jared stood, before he could give in to the urge to tear off her clothes, drag her to the floor and have her. “I’d like to take you to dinner.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d enjoy spending an hour or two with you.” On top of you, he thought. Inside you. God. With every appearance of calm, he skirted the desk and flipped through his address file. “Here’s Cassie’s number.”
“I know Cassie’s number.” It was demoralizing to realize she had to take a good, deep breath to steady herself, when he was just standing there, so coolly, so easily. “What’s going on here, Jared? We both know dinner isn’t necessary.”
His stomach twisted into tight slick knots. He could take her. Right here, right now. It was just that simple. And anything too simple was suspect.
“I’d like to have dinner with you, Savannah. Andconversation.” Picking up the phone, he dialed Cassie’s number himself, held out the receiver. “All right?”
Filled with mistrust, she hesitated. With a shrug, she took the phone. “All right.”
The restaurant was casual, the menu basic American grill. Savannah toyed with her drink and waited for Jared’s next move.
“So, you make clothes.”
“Sometimes.”
Smiling, he leaned back in the wooden booth. “Sometimes?” he repeated, looking at her expectantly.
He wanted to make conversation, she determined. She could make conversation. “I learned because homemade is cheaper than store-bought, and I didn’t want to be naked. Now I make something now and again because I enjoy it.”
“But you make your living as an illustrator, not as a seamstress.”
“I like to work with color, and design. I got lucky.”
“Lucky?”
Wary of the friendly probing, she moved her shoulders. “You don’t want the story of my life, Jared.”
“But I do.” He smiled at the waitress who set their meals in front of them. “Start anywhere,” he said invitingly.
She shook her head, cut into the spicy blackened chicken he’d recommended. “You’ve lived here all your life, haven’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“Big family, old friends and neighbors. Roots.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m going to give my son roots. Not just a roof over his head, but roots.”
He was silent for a moment. There had been a fierceness in her voice, a fiery determination, that he had to admire, even as he wondered at it. “Why here?”
“Because it’s not the West.
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