A Loving Man Read Online Free PDF Page A

Sunday. She was not a woman who offered and then took back her invitation. She cast, propped the handle of her pole into the slot between the boards and took out her insect repellent, rubbing it on her arms and legs. She sniffed lightly and recognized the slight tang of citronella, also an insect deterrent, coming from Stefan. He would not be leaving her dock soon. “Can we just be quiet?” she asked. “I’ve looked forward to this all week.”
    For the next half hour, she felt the old dock tremble slightly as Stefan cast into her favorite fishing hole. The crappie responded to his lure, flip-flopping in the water as he reeled them in and released them. She refused to ask what he was using for bait, because nothing was nibbling at her line. He held up one and asked, “How do you prepare crappie?”
    She looked over her shoulder and wished she hadn’t. The fish was Old George, a legendary giant of a crappie, who had escaped her hook. “You wait until you get a ‘mess’ and then fillet, score, bread in flour and cornmeal and fry. Or you might dip them in egg or beer batter…serve with wilted lettuce…But I’d throw that one back, he’s too small,” she lied, because she wanted Old George on her dinner table. “Did you enjoy yourself today, your little masquerade?”
    He unhooked Old George and tossed him back into thelake. Stefan dipped his hands in the lake and washed them as would an experienced fisherman. He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. It was a devastating, boyish grin that took her breath away. “I learned so much.”
    Rose turned back and promptly missed the dip of her red bobber in the water as a fish nibbled on her lure. It was difficult to concentrate when Stefan spread his blanket, sat upon it and began opening the basket he had brought. “My mother likes you, too. She was excited that I had a date with you and packed this meal for us.”
    Rose pivoted to him, temper flashing. “This isn’t a date, Mr. Donatien.” She leveled her words at him, not wanting him to get any flashy, upscale ideas about a country girl.
    “But I am with a very fascinating woman and I am enjoying myself. Surely that is a date.” He began unpacking, carefully placing a wine bottle that looked very costly, onto the blanket. He opened the bottle with a flourish and poured the wine into two very expensive-looking stemmed glasses. He unwrapped cheese and studied it. “My mother thinks she will make cheese here. She is happy and reliving her young life on a French farm, I think. My daughter is…happy in one way, not so in another.”
    Rose watched as he sliced the cheese and a very-hard looking sausage, placing crusty bread rolls beside it. She couldn’t resist the temptation to ask, “Why isn’t your daughter happy?”
    He shrugged a broad shoulder and looked out at the peaceful lake. His features were unreadable. “She is happy to be here. She is not happy with me. It is a hard passage from the girl to the woman. A boy I do not like wants her.”
    Rose stared at him; the unlikely, worldly Donatiens moving to Waterville suddenly made sense. “You maneuvered this whole move to Waterville, didn’t you? Just to get her away from—”
    Stefan scowled and handed her one filled wineglass. “From Louie The Freeloader. Estelle wished to live in an average, small town and I merely arranged her wishes. Perhaps I was ready for a change, too. My mother had been speaking of her homeland and selfishly, I wished to keep my family—what there is of it—together. Waterville was selected after very thorough research. We will spend the summer here. The farm was a compromise to make them both happy. It had been up on the market since the Smiths decided to see the West in their camper. There is a college some miles away, which might suit Estelle’s needs, if she wishes to transfer.”
    “I hate to tell you this, Pops, but there are hot-blooded boys here in Waterville, too.” Rose sipped the wine and studied him.