Heart Of Gold Read Online Free PDF

there was a
subtle tension in his body.
    Maybe he
wasn't above human emotions after all.
    “She
says I have to wear a damned tuxedo if I'm going to eat tonight. I live here,
she doesn't, who the hell—”
    “That's
enough with the swearing and the theatrics.” The tension in Farrell came
out in the muscles of his neck, tightening them into thick cords.
    “I'm
not wearing a tux and I'm not going to the dinner party.”
    There was
such defiance and anger in the kid's face that Carter realized, like so many
arguments between parents and children, the explosion wasn't just about the
topic at hand.
    “I'll
speak with her.”
    The kid
snorted. “Like that does any good. Why do you put up with her? It's not
like you're going to marry—”
    “You
can keep your thoughts concerning my relationship to yourself.”
    “‘Keep it
to yourself,'“ the kid aped. ”I keep everything to
myself."
    “If
that were true, I wouldn't need my doors rehung from all the slamming,”
Farrell returned dryly.
    The kid
turned on his heel and noticed Carter for the first time. His eyes widened with
surprise.
    They
looked just like Farrell's, she thought.
    “Hi,”
His voice changed as a lot of the hostility was lost.
    “Hello.”
    He
glanced back at Farrell. “Who's she?”
    “I
was about to find out when you came barrelling in.”
    The two
looked at Carter expectantly.
    “Carter
Wessex,” she supplied.
    “Are
you staying for dinner?” the kid asked.
    “No.
I'm here to see him.” She nodded across the desk.
    “Will
you stay for dinner?”
    “I
thought you weren't going to the party,” Farrell interjected.
    The kid
looked stumped, caught between rebellion and an unexpected urge to assimilate.
“If she's coming, I'll throw the tux on.”
    “I'm
not coming.”
    “Then
I'm not wearing one.” The kid turned to Farrell. “And you're going to
talk to Blondzilla.”
    Farrell
shot a laconic look over at Carter. “You free for dinner?”
    She
glanced back and forth between them waiting for him to take the invitation
back. He didn't.
    Her eyes
widened. “I'm hardly dressed appropriately if tuxedos are involved.”
    “I
think you look fine just as you are,” the kid remarked bashfully.
    Farrell's
lips tightened as she blushed.
    “Thanks
for the invitation, especially if you're serious. But I—”
    “He's
always serious,” the kid muttered resentfully.
    Farrell
crossed his arms over his chest. “That's not true. I laughed twice last
year. Now why don't you leave us so I can find out what this woman wants from
me.”
    “Dismissed
like a damn dog—” the kid began grousing as he walked away.
    “Watch
the language.”
    “One
speaks it, not sees it.”
    “I'll
use it correctly if you do.”
    “You
first,” the kid said as he shut the door, hard.
    As the
sound bounced around the room, Carter felt Farrell's undivided attention come
back to her.
    “So
what do you want?” he demanded.
    “I'm
an archaeologist and I—”
    “No.”
His eyes left her and he started rifling through papers as if she'd left the
room.
    Carter
bristled. “Excuse me?”
    “The
answer is no.”
    “But
I haven't asked for anything yet.”
    “The
operant word being yet. Letting you chatter on before you get to the
asking would only be a waste of our time.” His voice was clipped and cold.
    She was
stunned into silence and, for a moment, all she could do was watch his eyes
trace over words on some document.
    “You
know, you don't have to be so rude. And you could look at me while we're
talking.”
    An
arrogant brow arched though he didn't look up. “I always knew Miss Manners
came with a shovel. I just assumed it was for slinging drivel, not digging up
other people's property.”
    “And
it's hard for me to believe someone living in a place like this has the social
skills of a cow.”
    Gray eyes
popped up to hers. She saw that the speculation had returned.
    “Fine.”
He put the papers down and leaned back in his chair. “Is this better? Tell
you