Bed of Roses Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Nora Roberts
weddings.”
“Spring’s all about baseball. I saw your mother the other day. She remains the most beautiful woman ever created.”
Emma’s casual smile warmed like sunlight. “True.”
“She still refuses to leave your father for me, but hope springs. Anyway, see you later. Sam.”
As Jack walked off, Sam shifted. Knowing the dance well, Emma shifted in turn—so she avoided being trapped between him and the counter. “I’d forgotten how many mutual friends Vicki, Adam, and I have. I know almost everyone here. I need to touch some bases. Oh, and there’s someone I really want you to meet.”
Cheerfully, she took Sam’s hand. “You don’t know my cousin, Addison, do you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I haven’t seen her in months. Let’s track her down so I can introduce you.”
She pulled him into the heart of the party.
J ACK SCOOPED UP A HANDFUL OF NUTS AND CHATTED WITH A group of friends. And watched Emma lead the Young Executive at Play through the crowd. She looked . . . freaking amazing, he thought.
Not just the sexy, sloe-eyed, curvy, golden-skinned, masses of curling hair, soft, full-lipped amazing. That was killer enough. But you had to add in the heat and light she just seemed to emanate. She made one hell of a package.
And, he reminded himself, she was his best friend’s honorary sister.
In any case, it was rare to see her when she wasn’t with her regular gang of girls, some of her family, surrounded by people. Or, like now, with some guy.
When a woman looked like Emmaline Grant, there was always some guy.
Still, it never hurt to look. He was a man who appreciated lines and curves—in buildings and in women. In his estimation, Emma was pretty much architecturally perfect. So he popped nuts, pretended to listen to the conversation, and watched her slide and sway through the room.
Looked casual, he observed, the way she’d stop, exchange greetings, pause, laugh or smile. But he’d made a kind of study of her over the years. She moved with purpose.
Curiosity piqued, Jack eased away from the group, merged with another to keep her in his eyeline.
The some guy—Sam—did a lot of back stroking, shoulder draping. She did plenty of smiling at him, laughing up at him from under that thicket of lashes she owned. But oh yeah, her body language—he’d made a study of her body—wasn’t signaling reception.
He heard her call out Addison! and follow up with that sizzle-in-the-blood laugh of hers before she grabbed a very fine-looking blonde in a hug.
They chattered, beaming at each other the way women did, holding each other at arm’s length to take the survey before—no doubt—they told each other how great they looked.
You look fabulous. Have you lost weight? I love your hair. From his observations, that particular female ritual had some variations, but the theme remained the same.
Then Emma angled herself in a way that put the some guy and the blonde face-to-face.
He got it then, by the way she sidled back an inch or two, then waved a hand in the air before giving the some guy a pat on his arm. She wanted to ditch the some guy, and thought the blonde would distract him.
When she melted away in the direction of the kitchen, Jack lifted his beer in toast.
Well played, Emmaline, he thought. Well played.
H E CUT OUT EARLY. HE HAD AN EIGHT O’CLOCK BREAKFAST meeting and a day packed with site visits and inspections. Somewhere in there, or the day after, he needed to carve out some time at the drawing board to work up some ideas for the addition Mac wanted on her studio now that she and Carter were engaged and living together.
He could see how to do it, without insulting the lines and form of the building. But he wanted to get it down on paper, play with it awhile before he showed Mac anything.
He hadn’t quite gotten used to the idea of Mac getting married—and to Carter. You had to like Carter, Jack thought. He’d barely blipped on Jack’s radar
“Spring’s all about baseball. I saw your mother the other day. She remains the most beautiful woman ever created.”
Emma’s casual smile warmed like sunlight. “True.”
“She still refuses to leave your father for me, but hope springs. Anyway, see you later. Sam.”
As Jack walked off, Sam shifted. Knowing the dance well, Emma shifted in turn—so she avoided being trapped between him and the counter. “I’d forgotten how many mutual friends Vicki, Adam, and I have. I know almost everyone here. I need to touch some bases. Oh, and there’s someone I really want you to meet.”
Cheerfully, she took Sam’s hand. “You don’t know my cousin, Addison, do you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I haven’t seen her in months. Let’s track her down so I can introduce you.”
She pulled him into the heart of the party.
J ACK SCOOPED UP A HANDFUL OF NUTS AND CHATTED WITH A group of friends. And watched Emma lead the Young Executive at Play through the crowd. She looked . . . freaking amazing, he thought.
Not just the sexy, sloe-eyed, curvy, golden-skinned, masses of curling hair, soft, full-lipped amazing. That was killer enough. But you had to add in the heat and light she just seemed to emanate. She made one hell of a package.
And, he reminded himself, she was his best friend’s honorary sister.
In any case, it was rare to see her when she wasn’t with her regular gang of girls, some of her family, surrounded by people. Or, like now, with some guy.
When a woman looked like Emmaline Grant, there was always some guy.
Still, it never hurt to look. He was a man who appreciated lines and curves—in buildings and in women. In his estimation, Emma was pretty much architecturally perfect. So he popped nuts, pretended to listen to the conversation, and watched her slide and sway through the room.
Looked casual, he observed, the way she’d stop, exchange greetings, pause, laugh or smile. But he’d made a kind of study of her over the years. She moved with purpose.
Curiosity piqued, Jack eased away from the group, merged with another to keep her in his eyeline.
The some guy—Sam—did a lot of back stroking, shoulder draping. She did plenty of smiling at him, laughing up at him from under that thicket of lashes she owned. But oh yeah, her body language—he’d made a study of her body—wasn’t signaling reception.
He heard her call out Addison! and follow up with that sizzle-in-the-blood laugh of hers before she grabbed a very fine-looking blonde in a hug.
They chattered, beaming at each other the way women did, holding each other at arm’s length to take the survey before—no doubt—they told each other how great they looked.
You look fabulous. Have you lost weight? I love your hair. From his observations, that particular female ritual had some variations, but the theme remained the same.
Then Emma angled herself in a way that put the some guy and the blonde face-to-face.
He got it then, by the way she sidled back an inch or two, then waved a hand in the air before giving the some guy a pat on his arm. She wanted to ditch the some guy, and thought the blonde would distract him.
When she melted away in the direction of the kitchen, Jack lifted his beer in toast.
Well played, Emmaline, he thought. Well played.
H E CUT OUT EARLY. HE HAD AN EIGHT O’CLOCK BREAKFAST meeting and a day packed with site visits and inspections. Somewhere in there, or the day after, he needed to carve out some time at the drawing board to work up some ideas for the addition Mac wanted on her studio now that she and Carter were engaged and living together.
He could see how to do it, without insulting the lines and form of the building. But he wanted to get it down on paper, play with it awhile before he showed Mac anything.
He hadn’t quite gotten used to the idea of Mac getting married—and to Carter. You had to like Carter, Jack thought. He’d barely blipped on Jack’s radar
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