Bride in Barbados Read Online Free PDF

hinting at the
hard, lithe body underneath.
    He held the door open for her and she led the way to her
four-year-old Chevrolet. She got behind the wheel unhesitatingly,
knowing that she didn't need to bolster his ego by asking him to drive.
Indeed, she suspected that Travis Sennett's confidence in his
masculinity could withstand whatever blows it received and remain
unscathed.
    He slid into the passenger seat. When she started the
engine, it coughed briefly before taking hold. He threw a glance over
her as she backed from the parking space. "Shouldn't you have that
knock in the motor attended to?"
    She left the parking lot and turned in the direction he
indicated before replying. "I'm planning to find a mechanic tomorrow."
She frowned slightly. "If I'm lucky, it will be something easily
fixed—and inexpensive."
    He gave her a dry smile. "Sounds rather serious to me. It
shouldn't take more than a couple of days to repair, but it could be
more costly than you might expect." Apparently, from her job and the
age of her car, he had summed up her shaky financial situation rather
well.
    "Thank you for taking pity on a wayfarer," he remarked,
and when she looked his way, gave her a brief crooked smile that held
warmth and male allure. "I didn't relish the idea of going to a
restaurant alone, and it's too late to order dinner from room service.
By the way, you look lovely in that dress."
    Susan's smile was ironic. "Thank you, but I'm not going to
back out of dinner, so you needn't bother to flatter me."
    "I don't say things I don't mean, Susan," he replied
calmly. "Nor do I flatter people in an effort to ingratiate myself. I
might have lived an easier life if I did." He lounged back against the
seat, totally at ease with himself, with her and apparently with her
driving. He was certainly a contrast to Frank, who had always been
uneasy with women drivers and, in fact, had usually insisted on driving
whenever they went anywhere together, even in her car.
    Recalling the cramped, uninspiredly drab apartment where
she had lived since coming to Miami, she was suddenly glad that she had
agreed to have dinner with Travis Sennett. Nevertheless, she had a
small nagging suspicion that she might regret it in the morning. But
she told herself that was absurd and, for the present, her spirits
lifted. She also told herself that it didn't matter that she was deeply
conscious of Travis Sennett's lean, muscled body beside her. It was, in
fact, somewhat irksome to discover that she was just as aware of him
now as she had been earlier that night when he had watched her
performance so intently.
    All of this she dismissed rather easily as she decided
that she didn't regret her decision, in spite of pulses that were
leaping rather too quickly. They were ships passing in the night, so
why not relax and enjoy her dinner?

    The restaurant he had chosen was dimly lit, its atmosphere
one of subdued good taste and, in spite of what he had said, clearly
expensive. Walking to their table, she was aware of interested glances
from men and got an impression of wealth taken-for-granted from the
understated elegance of the women's clothing.
    She was used to performing in such surroundings, but much
less accustomed to being one of the customers. The place was definitely
well above her income bracket. Taking the chair the waiter held for
her, she lifted her chin high, determined that Travis Sennett should
not see the uncertainty in her emerald eyes.
    Taking the chair across from her, Travis ran an appraising
eye over her. "You put them all in the shade, Susan," he said quietly,
startling her. Then he accepted a menu from the waiter and studied it
with seeming interest, leaving Susan to recover from her surprise that
he had so easily discerned her true feelings. When they had ordered, he
said, "So—sultry Susan Warren." He surprised her again by
remembering the way she was described on the advertising posters that
were scattered about the hotel. "Do you enjoy what you