Read Online What a Bride Wants by Kelly Hunter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kelly Hunter
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otherwise you’re going to want to please me all the time .”
“ I can see how that would get tedious, but back to the now. What shall I wear?”
“ You’re really task oriented, aren’t you?”
“ I think it’s a family trait. I’m also standing here in a towel and it’s getting chilly. At this point, clothes would be good.”
S ilence.
“ Sawyer?”
“ I’m trying to decide if you’re torturing me deliberately.”
“ Rest assured, that is my intention.”
“ Wear whatever’s comfortable, Ella.” There was a smile in his voice. “Rest assured you’re going to torture me anyway.”
Ella grinned as she went back to her wardrobe. She narrowed her eyes and gnawed on her lower lip before finally reaching for her favorite pair of jeans. They were low slung, soft to the touch and perfectly comfortable.
B onus points for being blue.
S he had a yellow top in there somewhere, with three-quarter sleeves and a pretty sweetheart neckline. Team it with a burgundy, hot-pink and grey plaid shirt and she still looked country but not staggeringly so. Add a ring for her forefinger – a wide white-gold one – and a yellow band for her hair and she figured she looked ready for just about anything, which she was, and relaxed, which she most definitely was not.
How many times had she shown visitors around the house? Too many to count.
How many times had she fretted about what to wear while doing so?
Never ever before.
Cameron Sawyer was a bad influence. And that was before she factored in all the naughty things she wanted to do with him.
Ella found him in the kitchen, looking freshly washed and smelling of pine and lime soap. A tall glass of water sat beside an almost empty bag of Sage’s ginger strips. He’d made himself at home, but not overly so and she liked his restraint, his awareness of borders.
“ I made the mistake of opening them before I left Marietta, and then eating them all the way here,” he said, pushing the chocolates toward her in silent invitation.
“ We’ve all made that mistake.” She took one , and vowed to resist the rest. “You want a tour of the house? People usually do. The architect was a Norwegian who settled here as a young man. He had a thing about honoring the landscape and the materials it provided. Revolutionary back then.”
“ A tour would be fine.”
“ And then we should probably decide what we’re going to do this evening.” Not that she was being directive. Or bossy. Or anything.
Much.
Ella swung into tour guide mode, leading Sawyer through the house to the front door. The tour started on the wide entry porch that had been built to look imposing and to complement the landscape and the stunning mountain views that the house commanded. She showed him the reception room with its rough-hewn wooden furniture and exposed wooden beams. She drew him through into the lounge for more exposed beams and a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. She took him into her father’s study where her mother’s portrait hung, for no other reason than that she wanted her mother to get a good look at this man with his wide shoulders and dimpled smile, this man who Ella was in lust with.
Sawyer studied the portrait openly before looking back at her with a question in his eyes.
“ Cameron Sawyer meet Caroline Grace Emerson. My mother.”
He didn ’t comment that her mother was very beautiful, which she was, or that Ella favored her in looks, which she did. He didn’t talk about the diamonds and sapphires at her mother’s throat and in her ears.
“ She looks happy,” he murmured.
“ I think she was. She and my father were so very much in love. At least, that’s how I remember them. What about your parents, Sawyer? Are they still in love?”
“ I don’t know.” Sawyer smiled faintly. “They seem well suited. Compatible.”
“ Is your mother happy?”
Again he hesitated. “My mother’s very reserved. Hard to know what she’s thinking or feeling.”
“ How long
“ I can see how that would get tedious, but back to the now. What shall I wear?”
“ You’re really task oriented, aren’t you?”
“ I think it’s a family trait. I’m also standing here in a towel and it’s getting chilly. At this point, clothes would be good.”
S ilence.
“ Sawyer?”
“ I’m trying to decide if you’re torturing me deliberately.”
“ Rest assured, that is my intention.”
“ Wear whatever’s comfortable, Ella.” There was a smile in his voice. “Rest assured you’re going to torture me anyway.”
Ella grinned as she went back to her wardrobe. She narrowed her eyes and gnawed on her lower lip before finally reaching for her favorite pair of jeans. They were low slung, soft to the touch and perfectly comfortable.
B onus points for being blue.
S he had a yellow top in there somewhere, with three-quarter sleeves and a pretty sweetheart neckline. Team it with a burgundy, hot-pink and grey plaid shirt and she still looked country but not staggeringly so. Add a ring for her forefinger – a wide white-gold one – and a yellow band for her hair and she figured she looked ready for just about anything, which she was, and relaxed, which she most definitely was not.
How many times had she shown visitors around the house? Too many to count.
How many times had she fretted about what to wear while doing so?
Never ever before.
Cameron Sawyer was a bad influence. And that was before she factored in all the naughty things she wanted to do with him.
Ella found him in the kitchen, looking freshly washed and smelling of pine and lime soap. A tall glass of water sat beside an almost empty bag of Sage’s ginger strips. He’d made himself at home, but not overly so and she liked his restraint, his awareness of borders.
“ I made the mistake of opening them before I left Marietta, and then eating them all the way here,” he said, pushing the chocolates toward her in silent invitation.
“ We’ve all made that mistake.” She took one , and vowed to resist the rest. “You want a tour of the house? People usually do. The architect was a Norwegian who settled here as a young man. He had a thing about honoring the landscape and the materials it provided. Revolutionary back then.”
“ A tour would be fine.”
“ And then we should probably decide what we’re going to do this evening.” Not that she was being directive. Or bossy. Or anything.
Much.
Ella swung into tour guide mode, leading Sawyer through the house to the front door. The tour started on the wide entry porch that had been built to look imposing and to complement the landscape and the stunning mountain views that the house commanded. She showed him the reception room with its rough-hewn wooden furniture and exposed wooden beams. She drew him through into the lounge for more exposed beams and a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. She took him into her father’s study where her mother’s portrait hung, for no other reason than that she wanted her mother to get a good look at this man with his wide shoulders and dimpled smile, this man who Ella was in lust with.
Sawyer studied the portrait openly before looking back at her with a question in his eyes.
“ Cameron Sawyer meet Caroline Grace Emerson. My mother.”
He didn ’t comment that her mother was very beautiful, which she was, or that Ella favored her in looks, which she did. He didn’t talk about the diamonds and sapphires at her mother’s throat and in her ears.
“ She looks happy,” he murmured.
“ I think she was. She and my father were so very much in love. At least, that’s how I remember them. What about your parents, Sawyer? Are they still in love?”
“ I don’t know.” Sawyer smiled faintly. “They seem well suited. Compatible.”
“ Is your mother happy?”
Again he hesitated. “My mother’s very reserved. Hard to know what she’s thinking or feeling.”
“ How long
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