Odnośniki
- Indeks
- Jessica Thomas [Alex Peres Mysteries 1] Caught In The Net
- An Irresistible Bachelor Jessica Bird
- Hart Jessica Maz na urodziny
- Baby for the Billionaire series 4 The Tycoon's Secret Melody Anne
- Kingwood Pack 3 Mated to the Billionaire Werewolf Mina Carter
- Baby for the Billionaire series 3 The Tycoon's Proposal Melody Anne
- Billionaire Bodyguard 2 Defended & Desired Kristi Avalon
- The Billionaire's Temptation 3 Love and Surrender Cali MacKay
- Weis & Hickman Deathgate Cycle 07 The Seventh Gate
- Bylem ksiedzem II Owce ofiarami Pasterzy, Jonasz (Kotlinski) Roman
- zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- shakyor.htw.pl
moment, she felt a little uncomfortable. What if he viewed this as a date?
Of course not, he said. And as if to prove her wrong, he gave his napkin a rough snap of the linen
and placed it in his lap. I simply wore a jacket because it was pleasing to me to dress well.
Well, so much for that, she thought. She couldn t tell if his words were intended to put her at ease
or put her in her place. Actually, it was never easy to tell with him.
Mr. Buchanan reached over to a bottle of opened wine. Would you like some?
Are you just trying to get me liquored up? she teased.
He stiffened.
That was a joke, she told him quickly. Wow, he really didn t know how to interpret her humor,
did he? I d love a drink. Gretchen extended her empty glass toward him, still watching him. His
fingers were long and skilled, and he poured the glass with remarkable grace. If she hadn t seen him
drop his knife earlier, she would have never suspected him of such a thing. He finished pouring and
tilted the bottle back with a practiced flourish, not spilling an ounce.
His manners were beautiful, even if his words were abrupt.
The candles flickered as she sipped her wine and he began to pour his own glass. She wondered
for a moment if the candlelight was for ambiance or to hide his scars. If it was for the latter, it was a
bad idea the flickering light made his scars that much more hideous with the shadows. And again,
she found herself wondering about them.
I m Gretchen, she offered when he finished pouring. I don t know that we ever had a formal
introduction.
We did not, he said in a crisp voice. I find it hard to introduce myself when I am naked and
unawares.
Her mouth dropped a little at that, and it was on the tip of her tongue to offer another apology when
he glanced over at her, and she realized . . . that was a joke. Was he waiting for her to laugh? Or
respond?
Yes, I do imagine it s quite hard when a madwoman approaches you in the gardens shouting about
how she saw your penis, Gretchen offered back. I can understand how that s not much of an
icebreaker.
She tried to gauge his reaction, curious. Would he get upset again, or would he be a bit more at
ease now that they were sitting and talking?
To her disappointment, he showed no reaction. Instead, he nudged a covered silver plate closer to
the two of them. I m Hunter. Buchanan.
I figured it was Buchanan, she said. Unless you were related to Eldon and you had the real
Buchanan locked away in the attic.
He snorted, though there was no smile on that grim face. Eldon is my assistant and butler.
Clearly you hired him for his sparkling personality, Gretchen said.
Hunter glanced over at her, still expressionless.
She grimaced, taking another swig of her wine. Faux pas again? Sorry. I m not trying to be
unpleasant. He just wasn t very . . . welcoming when I arrived. I m sure he s quite capable as an
assistant.
He pulled the lid off the tray, revealing a pale white pasta. It looked as if it had been cooked hours
ago, and the noodles were limp, the sauce clumpy.
Eldon is very protective of the estate. He is not fond of visitors.
I gathered that, she said lightly.
He gave her a solemn look. Was he cruel to you? Should I speak to him?
Oh, no. Gretchen extended her plate toward Hunter, since he seemed to be serving. I was just
surprised, that s all. So it s just you and him in this big house?
Not at all, Hunter said, taking the serving ware and spooning out some of the rather awful-
looking pasta onto Gretchen s plate.
Oh?
The cleaning crew is here most days. I assume Eldon told you the schedule?
She took her plate back from him and tried not to look repulsed by the noodly mass on her plate.
Maybe he d cooked it himself, though? Could she insult him by asking about it? She decided it was
time for a little white lie.
This looks delicious, she told him, adjusting her napkin in her lap and waiting for him to spoon
out his own portion.
Eldon is an adequate cook, Hunter said.
Well if that isn t a ringing endorsement, I don t know what is.
He gave her another curious look, but still did not crack a smile.
She waited for him to take a bite, and when he didn t fall over, choking, she took a tentative bite
herself. The food was every bit as awful as it looked. The sauce was congealed, the noodles
overcooked, and the entire thing was cold. She forced herself to swallow, her gaze on Hunter. How
could he sit there and eat this mess?
Sufficient cook, indeed.
He glanced over at her. Is everything all right? Tension seemed to suddenly vibrate through his
body.
Gretchen forced a bright smile to her face. Great, thank you.
Hunter grunted and turned back to his food, eating quietly and methodically.
Well, this was definitely one of the oddest dinners she d ever had. She was seated in one of many
dining rooms at the biggest house she d ever set foot into, and the food was worse than anything she d
ever tasted. Worse than that, the room was unnervingly quiet, and she wondered if Hunter even knew
how to make small talk. Or did he even have to? She imagined he had people falling all over
themselves to talk to him.
Another thought bothered her. He was a man who seemed to value his privacy. Perhaps spending
dinner with her wasn t very pleasurable for him and he was only doing it out of politeness? Ouch.
She toyed with the noodles on her plate.
He paused again, setting down his fork and knife. Something is bothering you.
No, really, I m fine.
His gaze hardened, as if disapproving of her obvious lie. It s not necessary for you to humor me
with dinner. If you wish to go, please go.
Oh, great. Now he thought she didn t want to be here with him? She shook her head and shoved
another forkful of the hideous pasta into her mouth to prove that she did want to be there. Immediately,
her gag reflex kicked in and she choked. Grabbing her napkin, she spit the gluey wad into it. Sorry
about that. I don t think I can eat this.
He looked down at his plate, surprised. Do you not like Italian?
Don t you have a cook? she blurted out. I mean, you re rich. You can afford a cook, right?
He frowned at her, then put his napkin down on the table. Eldon s cooking is sufficient.
I can t eat it, she told him. It s not you. Trust me. I just . . . I ll gag if I have to pretend to like [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]