Read Online The Sun and the Moon (Giving You ... #1) by Leslie McAdam - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Leslie McAdam
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be seeing Ryan in just a few short hours.
At my house.
"He's coming over, Marie. He's bringing dinner. I need new plates."
"Step away from the Pottery Barn, Amelia."
"But I give good table."
"Step away."
"But he's coming tonight!"
"Do I need to kick your ass? What you have is fine."
I sighed. She was right. I needed to head home and get ready for whatever Ryan had planned for tonight.
Appetizers and Dessert
A TALL, TAN, SURFER hunk stood on my doorstep in the evening sun, his golden hair gleaming and his eyes sparkling.
Special delivery. For me.
He again wore a plaid, short-sleeved, button-down shirt, with a white t-shirt underneath, dark jeans, and flip flops. God, even his feet were attractive. The shirt hugged his biceps and the jeans hung, in a sexy way, down his hips. He carried two bouquets of small white rosebuds, and two Trader Joe's grocery bags.
"Hi!" I chirped, overly cheery. "Come on in." I wore a petal pink, cashmere, V-neck sweater and jeans. Comfy but elegant.
Oh, and I had on new lingerie underneath.
He looked down at me and smiled his Sun God smile. Then he stepped into my home, dropped the bags and the flowers on the foyer, and grabbed me. One hand curled around my back, the other headed to my ass, as he pressed himself to me. I loved it. I immediately scooted my arms up around his neck, and reached one hand to his soft, curly hair. He leaned in and kissed me, and of course he kissed me senseless, his tongue chasing mine, his warm mouth welcoming. Damn, he smelled clean and good. Damn, he looked good close up.
All of the things that I had been worrying about before he came over—tidying the house, setting the table, checking my makeup, generally fussing—evaporated.
"I've been wanting to do that for a while," he said in his sexy, husky voice, after he broke apart with a quiet groan. He pressed his forehead to mine, and looked at me, smiling. And it was like my brain went to voicemail.
Amelia's brain is out of service at this time. Please try your call again later.
I mustered a breathy response of "me too." He looked at me intently.
"Hi," he whispered, running his finger down my nose, and bopping it on the end.
"Hi," I whispered back.
He let me go, picked up the bags, sauntered into my kitchen, like he owned it, and started to take groceries out of the bags. "Can you arrange the flowers and I'll make dinner?"
I didn't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. That said, I’d take it.
"Sounds good to me." Sure, I would let him handle dinner. Did he want to clean my house for me too? WTF? Was he for real?
I pulled out a wide, low, clear, cylindrical vase for the white rosebuds, got some scissors, and cut the stems quite short so that they were even with the top of the vase. This made it a rather chic arrangement. Like I said, I gave good table. Then, I wrapped up the stems in newspaper, so that I wouldn't prick myself with the thorns.
"Thanks for the flowers," I said. "White roses are actually my favorite."
He grinned. "Lucky guess on my part. I like them, too." He walked over to the table, and inspected the vase. Turning to me, and running his finger down my cheek, he said, "They reminded me of you. You knew just what to do with them." He plucked a petal from one flower, and fingered it. I noticed that he touched the softness of the rose while I tried to avoid the thorns.
Deep thoughts, Amelia. Focus.
"So," I said brightly. "What did you bring?"
"Appetizers, wine, beer, and stuff to make chicken pasta and salad. Chocolate cake for dessert. Will that work?"
I was stunned, but this time not by his masculine beauty or damn gravitational pull, but how, um, perfect he was. My favorite flowers. Good food. Chocolate. And he was cooking. "Yep. That’ll work." I aimed for nonchalance, and failed miserably.
"You hungry?" he asked.
I was actually ravenous but I shrugged. "A little." I didn't want to look too eager, abiding by another ancient
At my house.
"He's coming over, Marie. He's bringing dinner. I need new plates."
"Step away from the Pottery Barn, Amelia."
"But I give good table."
"Step away."
"But he's coming tonight!"
"Do I need to kick your ass? What you have is fine."
I sighed. She was right. I needed to head home and get ready for whatever Ryan had planned for tonight.
Appetizers and Dessert
A TALL, TAN, SURFER hunk stood on my doorstep in the evening sun, his golden hair gleaming and his eyes sparkling.
Special delivery. For me.
He again wore a plaid, short-sleeved, button-down shirt, with a white t-shirt underneath, dark jeans, and flip flops. God, even his feet were attractive. The shirt hugged his biceps and the jeans hung, in a sexy way, down his hips. He carried two bouquets of small white rosebuds, and two Trader Joe's grocery bags.
"Hi!" I chirped, overly cheery. "Come on in." I wore a petal pink, cashmere, V-neck sweater and jeans. Comfy but elegant.
Oh, and I had on new lingerie underneath.
He looked down at me and smiled his Sun God smile. Then he stepped into my home, dropped the bags and the flowers on the foyer, and grabbed me. One hand curled around my back, the other headed to my ass, as he pressed himself to me. I loved it. I immediately scooted my arms up around his neck, and reached one hand to his soft, curly hair. He leaned in and kissed me, and of course he kissed me senseless, his tongue chasing mine, his warm mouth welcoming. Damn, he smelled clean and good. Damn, he looked good close up.
All of the things that I had been worrying about before he came over—tidying the house, setting the table, checking my makeup, generally fussing—evaporated.
"I've been wanting to do that for a while," he said in his sexy, husky voice, after he broke apart with a quiet groan. He pressed his forehead to mine, and looked at me, smiling. And it was like my brain went to voicemail.
Amelia's brain is out of service at this time. Please try your call again later.
I mustered a breathy response of "me too." He looked at me intently.
"Hi," he whispered, running his finger down my nose, and bopping it on the end.
"Hi," I whispered back.
He let me go, picked up the bags, sauntered into my kitchen, like he owned it, and started to take groceries out of the bags. "Can you arrange the flowers and I'll make dinner?"
I didn't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. That said, I’d take it.
"Sounds good to me." Sure, I would let him handle dinner. Did he want to clean my house for me too? WTF? Was he for real?
I pulled out a wide, low, clear, cylindrical vase for the white rosebuds, got some scissors, and cut the stems quite short so that they were even with the top of the vase. This made it a rather chic arrangement. Like I said, I gave good table. Then, I wrapped up the stems in newspaper, so that I wouldn't prick myself with the thorns.
"Thanks for the flowers," I said. "White roses are actually my favorite."
He grinned. "Lucky guess on my part. I like them, too." He walked over to the table, and inspected the vase. Turning to me, and running his finger down my cheek, he said, "They reminded me of you. You knew just what to do with them." He plucked a petal from one flower, and fingered it. I noticed that he touched the softness of the rose while I tried to avoid the thorns.
Deep thoughts, Amelia. Focus.
"So," I said brightly. "What did you bring?"
"Appetizers, wine, beer, and stuff to make chicken pasta and salad. Chocolate cake for dessert. Will that work?"
I was stunned, but this time not by his masculine beauty or damn gravitational pull, but how, um, perfect he was. My favorite flowers. Good food. Chocolate. And he was cooking. "Yep. That’ll work." I aimed for nonchalance, and failed miserably.
"You hungry?" he asked.
I was actually ravenous but I shrugged. "A little." I didn't want to look too eager, abiding by another ancient
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