Read Online What a Woman Wants (A Manley Maids Novel) by Judi Fennell - Free Book Online Page B

tapped the letter. “What’s that supposed to mean? Where’s the clue in there?”
    Riddles. Sean cursed under his breath. He’d never had a problem with numbers, but letters had always been a challenge for him. Dyslexia had tormented him through school, and though he’d come up with coping strategies, things like homonyms and homophones—and
riddles
—had made his life hell. It figured that his future would come down to riddles.
    “So what is this supposed to mean? I have to find some old documents?”
    The lawyer cleared his throat. “The only clarification I can make is that should you elect to pass on this opportunity or fail to complete it, you will be entitled to a small stipend from the estate. Beyond that, Mrs. Martinson’s directions were clear.”
    “Yeah, yeah, I know. Follow the yellow brick road and I end up in Oz. Scarecrow included. Question is, does
Grandmama
see herself as Glinda or the Wicked Witch of the West?”
    Sean knew which one he’d pick right now. Dammit. That old woman was playing both of them.
    “Maybe it’s a book.” Livvy stood up and kicked the Louis XIV chair with the heel of that ridiculous boot.
    Sean cringed. He hoped to God she hadn’t put a dent in that chair or she’d just devalued it by several hundred dollars.
    And then she stood just as more lightning flashed through the front window, streaming through her skirt, reminding him exactly what those legs had looked like draped over the banister, all smooth, creamy skin.
    His damn pants were constricting him again. Sean bit back a curse. When was the last time he’d gotten laid? That had to be the explanation for this because frizzy-headed munchkins, with an attitude—and potential fortune—bigger than his, were not his cup of tea.
    Tea. Oh, hell. He’d left the kettle on when he’d boiled the water for the coffee.
    Great. Burning the place down would only make his problems worse.

Chapter Nine

    I ’LL look forward to seeing you in two weeks, Ms. Carolla.”
    Sooner, if Livvy had her way.
    “Drive carefully, Mr. Scanlon.” She closed the massive front door. Two weeks and this would all be over. For better or worse, she’d be finished.
    Why did she have the nasty suspicion that it’d be worse?
    Sean materialized from behind one of the giant columns near the living room. She hadn’t decided where he fell on the good-to-bad scale.
    “Meeting go okay?” he asked, one eyebrow higher than the other. Oh, sure.
He
could do the eyebrow trick. Was there anything not perfect on this guy?
    With the way those pants hugged his thighs (and butt, she reminded herself; let us not forget how they hugged his butt), the way the shirt rippled over the contours of that six pack . . . He was in the Better column.
    No. Worse.
    No. Better.
    Ah, hell. He could be the Sexiest Man Alive according to whatever magazine was running the poll that week, but it didn’t change anything. She was here to earn this inheritance so she could sell it and pocket the change, and he wasn’t going to be very happy with her for doing him out of a job.
    How about just doing him?
    Now there was a thought. She already knew the guy was a world-class kisser, she’d bet he’d be a world-class lov—
    “Hello? Livvy?”
    A big, tanned hand waved in front of her face, cutting off that delicious image. Which was probably just as well because she could feel a blush starting and she didn’t want to have to go explaining
that
. “Oh. What? Is Orwell all right?”
    Sean winced. “Well, he’s certainly a healthy eater. All your animals are.”
    Of course they were; that’s what the organic food was all about.
    “Did things go okay?” He motioned to the paper she’d dragged off her grandmother’s desk as if it were a loan being called due.
    And, yes, she did realize how appropriate that analogy was.
    “Do you know if there’s an old book around here anywhere? Something really ancient about a queen losing her head? Marie Antoinette, maybe.” She