ТОП просматриваемых книг сайта:
Mr. Predictable: Mr. Predictable / Too Many Cooks. Carol Finch
Читать онлайн.Название Mr. Predictable: Mr. Predictable / Too Many Cooks
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781474025393
Автор произведения Carol Finch
Жанр Зарубежные любовные романы
Издательство HarperCollins
“I started this,” Moriah reminded him unsteadily. “You don’t deserve the blame for what just happened. I asked for it.”
“Yeah,” he said, then gave a self-deprecating snort. “And I delivered. I’m sorry, Moriah. G’night.”
Moriah watched him disappear around the corner and then cursed herself soundly. She’d known Jake Prescott was going to be trouble—a dozen different kinds of trouble—an hour after she met him. Sure ’nuff.
Moriah staggered up the steps, closed the door and stood there staring at her empty apartment. The silence in there was deafening. Needs she’d spent years ignoring were exploding through her body like popcorn. She was magnetically drawn to Jake, hypnotized by those intense chocolate eyes, mesmerized by the needy desire he ignited in her. She couldn’t even begin to describe or categorize the sensations that bombarded her when he kissed her and caressed her. Damn, she must’ve been a harlot in a previous life, because she’d wanted to rip off his shirt and get her hands all over that sleek muscled flesh she’d seen the first night when she’d accidentally walked in on Jake while he was practically naked.
Moriah gulped when she realized her body was still sizzling and her heart was thumping like a nail gun. She remembered, with vivid clarity, how it felt to be wrapped in Jake’s powerful arms, their bodies meshed intimately together, his hands skimming over her feminine contours, her hands exploring his masculine body.
This was not good! This was insane! She barely knew the man, yet she wanted to take their relationship to a deeply intimate level and she never felt that obsessive need hammering at her before.
Good grief, did some latent feminine hormone kick in at age thirty to cause a woman to freak out, despite the good sense she’d cultivated for three decades? For heaven’s sake, she knew she was lousy at romantic relationships. She didn’t know diddly about attracting and holding a man’s attention. For all her extensive education she had some serious deficiencies when it came to relating to a man her own age.
Senior citizens she could handle, no sweat. Jake made her sweat—and that was the least of her reactions to him!
Ordinarily, she kept things lighthearted and casual with her guests. She could joke around with the best of them. But with Jake—
“But nothing. Go make your rounds, then go to bed, Mo,” she ordered herself sharply. “Just because this is Jake’s birthday, you didn’t have to kiss his lips off this evening. You baked his cake. That should’ve been good enough!”
Moriah blew out her breath, then lurched around to return to the lodge. She had warm milk and wine to deliver to her guests. She may have the hots for Jake, but it would pass when he returned to his world and she welcomed another guest to take his place.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to delve into the reason why she was anxious for time to whiz by at supersonic speed. She suspected it had something to do with the fear of developing heart trouble. She had to take the necessary precautions to ensure she didn’t contract the dangerous ailment.
MORIAH FROWNED when she returned from hiking with one of her guests to see Tom, Kent and Chester motioning her to an isolated spot beneath a sprawling shade tree. “Something wrong?” she asked worriedly.
“Yeah, ’fraid so,” Kent mumbled as he swept off his Resistol hat and raked his fingers through his smashed hair. “It’s about Jake.”
Moriah stared at the men in alarm. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Well, for the past week he’s attacked every leisure sport on the premises,” Chester Gray reported, lips twitching. “He got all huffy the first time he showed up to play golf and I told him we didn’t set pars for the course and we didn’t allow scorecards because it makes the game competitive and we don’t encourage competition at Triple R. He played twenty-seven holes of golf, nonstop. He wouldn’t have quit then, but his golf cart ran out of charge and I had to tow him to the shed. It’s the same drill each time he arrives at the course to play a round.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.