Awakened by His Touch Read Online Free PDF Page B

was definitely on the make. Girls and surfing were about the only things Owen took seriously.
    ‘And you didn’t think to just let us enjoy a quiet dinner without him?’ Laney muttered.
    ‘Elliott has nothing in that chalet, Helena.’
    Uh-oh— Helena. Reason had always been her friend in the face of mother voice . ‘The chalets are practically five-star, and I’m sure he has a full wallet.’ And an expense account. ‘He could have easily taken himself for a restaurant meal.’
    ‘When we can offer a home-cooked one instead?’
    ‘He went out anyway. He might as well have eaten in Mitchell’s Cliff.’ In fact she’d been sure that was what he was doing as the crunch of his tyres on the driveway had diminished.
    ‘I’m less concerned with what he does than with what we do. Extending Morgan courtesy to our guest.’
    Laney opened her mouth to protest further but then snapped it shut again as feet sounded on the mat outside. An uncontrollable dismay that she hadn’t so much as combed her windswept hair washed over her.
    But too late now.
    ‘He’s coming,’ her father announced moments later.
    Elliott had clearly paused in the doorway and was greeting a dozing Wilbur, which meant his disturbed man scent had time to waft ahead. Wow, he smelled amazing. The same base tones as before, yet different somehow. Spicier. Cleaner.
    Tastier.
    Heat burbled up under her shirt at the thought, but it was true. Whatever he was wearing was tickling the same senses as the stew still simmering in its own heat on the table.
    ‘Thank you for the invitation, Mr and Mrs Morgan—’
    ‘Ellen and Robert, please, Elliott.’
    He stepped up right next to her. ‘I nicked out to pick this up. Couldn’t come empty-handed.’
    Another waft of deliciousness hit her as a bottle clacked against the timber at the centre of the big table.
    ‘Oh, lovely. That’s a terrific local winery—Helena’s favourite.’
    ‘Really? I didn’t know.’
    His voice was one-tenth croak, subtle enough that maybe she only heard it because he was standing so close. But he wasn’t looking at her, she could tell. Plus, she wouldn’t be looking at him if their situations were reversed. On pain of death.
    Her mother laughed. ‘How could you know?’
    Was he worried that she might read something into that? Laney spoke immediately to put the ridiculous idea out of the question. ‘You’re either a man of excellent taste or Natty Marshall did a real sell-job on you at the cellar.’
    ‘She was pretty slick,’ he admitted.
    ‘Sit down, Elliott.’ Her mother mothered. ‘You look very nice.’
    The reassuring way she volunteered that opinion made Laney wonder whether he was worrying at the edges of his shirt or something.
    ‘He’s changed into a light blue Saturday night shirt, Laney.’
    Oh, no...
    ‘Mum likes to scene-set for me,’ she explained, mortified, and then mumbled, ‘sorry.’
    ‘Blue shirt, jeans, and I combed my hair,’ he added, amusement rich in his low voice.
    Was that a statement about her wild locks? Her hand went immediately to them.
    Her mother continued to be oblivious. ‘Sit, too, Laney.’
    She did, moving to the left of her chair just as he moved to the right of his. They collided in the middle. She jerked back, scalded.
    ‘Sorry,’ he murmured. ‘Ladies first.’
    ‘We’ll be standing all night if we wait for one of those,’ she quipped, still recovering from the jolt of whatever the heck that was coming off him, and then she slid into her seat, buying a moment of recovery time as he moved in next to her.
    So that was her question answered. She’d felt the strength of his torso against hers. He was solid, but definitely not overweight. Not as youthfully hard as her twin, but not soft either. Just right.
    Which pretty much made her Goldilocks, snuggling down into the sensation.
    The necessity to converse was forestalled by the business of filling plates with stew and side plates with thickly sliced bread and