The Cowboy's Gift-Wrapped Bride. Victoria Pade
Читать онлайн книгу.
I expected a lot of people to be around. Did I scare them all away?”
“No. My brothers went out to shovel the walks, and their wives and my sister decided to stay out of the way for the night so they didn’t overwhelm you right off the bat, when you’ve already had a tough day.”
Matt mimicked his grandfather by glancing up at the clock. “And speaking of which, I think we should get you to bed.”
Jenn had to admit—to herself if not to him—that she’d begun to feel as if she were wilting.
“Let’s do the dishes and then I will,” she said.
“No way. No dishes for you. But how ’bout I make you a cup of tea with honey and lemon to take to bed with you?”
“That sounds good.”
Matt grabbed the honey pot and as many dishes as he could carry and slid out of the nook. “Sit tight while I get your tea ready,” he ordered.
Jenn didn’t protest. She was suddenly feeling very weak and worn-out and she honestly didn’t know if she had the strength to do more than get back to her bedroom. So she did as she’d been told and sat tight as Matt put the dirty dishes in the sink and filled a mug with water to heat in the microwave.
Then he took a fresh lemon from the refrigerator, washed it thoroughly and rolled it against the wooden cutting board with his palm and the heel of his hand before slicing a wedge from it.
Jenn knew she was really tired because something about his actions almost hypnotized her and she ended up watching his every move in silence.
Mainly her focus was on his hands. Big, capable hands that seemed to dwarf everything they came into contact with.
And in Jenn’s mind she pictured him rolling the strained muscles of her shoulders the way he’d rolled the lemon—pushing with his palm and the heel of his hand in a gentle, insistent, adept massage.
Those hands would be strong against her tight muscles. Firm. Tender. They’d squeeze the stress out of her the same way they squeezed the juice from the lemon, with just the right amount of pressure.
And she’d grow pliable beneath his touch. She’d melt inside and her head would fall back and she’d give herself over to those hands…
“Here you go. All set.”
Jenn didn’t know when she’d drifted off into some kind of trance but the sound of Matt’s voice brought her out of it and she snapped to attention, raising her gaze to a face too handsome to help matters.
“Are you all right? You look kind of flushed,” he said.
Great. He’d noticed the blush that she could feel flooding her face for the second time that evening and Jenn wondered if he could see past it into her wayward mind and figure out what she’d been thinking to cause it.
“I’m okay. Tired and dizzy again is all,” she lied to hide what was really going on with her. But then what else could she do? She couldn’t admit that she’d been fantasizing about him, could she?
“Let’s get you to your room,” he said, sounding concerned and making Jenn feel guilty for misleading him.
But she did need to get back to her room and away from this man and his effect on her, there was no doubt about that. So she slid around the bend of the bench seat.
Unfortunately it was right into Matt’s waiting hand at her arm to help her up.
Not a good thing. Because this time, even through her clothes, a single touch of one of those hands she’d just been daydreaming about set off a whole new and more powerful set of tingles all through her.
“I’m okay,” she insisted as she got to her feet, hoping he would let go.
He didn’t, though. He kept hold of her, guiding and supporting her all the way back to her bedroom and to the side of the bed.
He set the mug of hot tea on the nightstand and said, “Can you get yourself undressed and into bed or do you need help?”
Oh, what flashed through her mind at that suggestion!
Matt undressing her. His hands on her bare skin. Scooping her up into his arms to lie her gently on the bed. Getting into bed with her…
“No! Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
She’d answered too frantically and he seemed to think she was afraid of him.
He took a step backward, as if distance might help calm her fears. “My sister Kate or one of my sisters-in-law could come and help if you needed it. I didn’t mean that I—”
“I know you didn’t,” Jenn was quick to assure him. “It’s just that I don’t need any help. But really, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me today.”
“It was nothin’,” he said, still watching her and no doubt wondering if she really was all right or if the bump on her head had made her lose her mind.
But then that was something she was wondering herself.
He must have decided the best thing was to leave her to her own devices because he said, “If you have any problems during the night, just holler. I’m next door and I’ll hear you.”
“Thanks. But I’m sure I’ll be okay.”
He took another long, hard look at her then, as if to convince himself she was telling the truth, and those deep, dark green eyes seemed to emit the same kind of heat she’d imagined feeling from his touch, the kind she’d felt when his hand had taken hers to help her from the truck and again when he’d walked her to her bedside.
And in that moment she felt all the more certain that she just couldn’t be married and still feel the way this man made her feel.
“Well, all right, then,” he finally said, as if giving in against his will to leaving her alone. “Feel better.”
“I’m sure I will. I just need some sleep.”
“’Night, then.”
“Good night.”
Matt turned to leave and Jenn watched him go. She devoured every step of those long legs until he was out of her room and the door was closed behind him.
And then Jenn deflated, falling more than sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling every bit as weak as she’d claimed.
Except she wasn’t so sure that the weakness had come from her car accident or her bump on the head or the incredible things that had come out of them both.
Instead it seemed as if her weakness was more for Matt McDermot than from anything that had happened to her.
And that was every bit as unnerving as not being able to remember who she was.
Chapter 4
It was midmorning when Jenn woke up the next day. She’d slept nearly twelve hours and she felt rested and much stronger than she had the evening before.
But as she rolled onto her back in bed and opened her eyes to acclimate herself, she recalled a dream she’d had several times during the night. A dream of herself as an old woman. An old woman here in this house, but not in this house the way it was now. And not because she be longed in it.
Strange. It felt as if there was something very strange about that dream. Even stranger than the dream itself. But since not one whit of her memory had returned as she’d slept, she didn’t know why the dream seemed strange or if it was telling her something.
Lying in bed thinking about it didn’t give her any answers and she was already embarrassed to have slept as late as she had, so she decided she couldn’t stay there pondering it.
Instead she sat up and gingerly swung her legs over the side of the mattress. She wasn’t sure if her head would pound again or if her neck