Billionaire on Her Doorstep Read Online Free PDF Page B

sliding it into the empty kitchen drawer.
    “I do. After all’s said and done, we exchange a discreet envelope and a handshake before organizing the next bowling outing or dinner invite.”
    Her eyes widened ever so slightly. Did she think he was hitting on her? Had he accidentally given himself an avenue to do so?
    Tom wondered what Maggie might say if he made the dinner invite suggestion concrete. Maybe something casual at his place with another couple to keep it relaxed. Alex and Marianne were always good for a laugh when you could get them away from their brood of five girls under the age of eight.
    A heavy furry lump landed upon Tom’s toes. And the moment was gone.
    “Smiley, come on,” Maggie said, clicking her fingers at the despondent-looking creature. But Smiley wasn’t silly. He could play deaf with the best of them.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, her cheek twitching. “You could try giving him a little shove.”
    But Smiley let his chin slump on to his crossed front legs with a great rush of air streaming from his nostrils. He wasn’t going anywhere.
    “Sorry,” she said again. “He spends half his day sitting on my toes. He looks miserable but really he’s just a big mushy bundle of love.”
    Tom smiled. “It’s fine.”
    She took a step closer and clicked madly at the dog. And over the scent of Smiley, Tom once more caught a wave of Maggie’s perfume. For a woman who wore not a lick of makeup and so clearly didn’t feel the need to dress up for him, the aesthetic nature of that elegant scent was an anomaly.
    And anomalies were intriguing. Even to the most invulnerable of men. Search and discover - it was as instinctive to the human male as breathing.
    Maybe inviting her to dinner wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. But without the chaperons. Candlelight. No, moonlight. On his back deck. Fresh calamari, barbecued. And a cold liberating beer to wash it all down…
    Maggie moved closer still, bent down to her haunches and looked Smiley in the eye. Though Tom was sure the dog knew it for the ruse it was, he hauled his great hulking form off the floor and padded over to his mistress for a big cuddle before heading over to sit in the kitchen doorway.
    The walking talking anomaly in question stood, and suddenly there was nothing between the two of them bar a meter of space and warm swirls of hot spring sea air. He saw the moment Maggie knew it too. Her mouth slowly turned downwards and she thrust her hands in her back pockets.
    Tom’s instincts hollered at him to hunt and gather. To smile, to flirt, to grow a backbone and simply ask her out. What was so important about furniture, really?
    But every lick of sense in his body told him to leave well enough alone and get back to work. Despite the bare feet and mussed hair, this woman wasn’t in the same place he was. She was haughty and urbane, all sharp edges and skepticism. His head knew that would hardly make for a fan date. If only his impulses were half as rational.
    Tom downed the remainder of his black coffee in one hit, thus negating every scent bar the strong roasted beans. He rinsed the mug and left it upside down on the sink and moved out of the skinny kitchen.
    “What time would you like lunch?” Maggie called out before he got as far as the back door.
    He turned to find her standing in the kitchen doorway, her long length leaning against the door jamb, her fingers unconsciously running up and down Smiley’s forehead and curling about his ears.
    And though he had a bunch of ham and avocado sandwiches, fruit and a block of dark chocolate in a cooler in his truck, Tom found himself saying ““Whenever you’re having yours.”
    As he walked down the back steps he didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. He could feel her guarded grey eyes watching him all the way.
    Maggie’s work in progress was going nowhere fast. And considering she spent all day every day looking out over one of the most inspirational views any artist could hope to