Her Leading Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

back, hoping
her smile looked better than it felt. “Maybe later,” she
murmured.
    “ Well?” Gran snapped. “What do you want to
eat? I’d avoid the fish, if I were you. Can’t imagine
where they’d
get fish that’s fit to eat in this hellish place.”
    “ No,” Christina agreed. “Not unless they use
refrigerated cars to ship it in.”
    “ Actually,” Martin said, causing both women
to glance up at him, “I think they do.” He smiled
apologetically. “Have refrigerated boxcars on some of the trains nowadays, I
mean. So maybe the fish isn’t bad. Although I think I’ll have something else
myself. No sense taking chances on the possibility of bad
fish.”
    Gran snorted as if she’d never heard anything more ludicrous in her
life. Christina noted that Martin’s serene smile didn’t waver. Good heavens,
except for her father she’d never met a man who reacted so
little to
Gran’s obnoxiousness. She wondered if he’d be able to keep it up, or if he’d
prove to have feet of clay like everyone else in the world.
    Except her. While Christina was often irked by Gran’s insistence
upon playing the role of sore thumb, she never ever let Gran know it. Once Gran
knew she’d
got someone’s goat, the game was over, and she’d won. Christina admired Martin’s
ability to slough off Gran’s slings and arrows this far into
their relationship, which had lasted—Christina looked to see if there was a
clock on a wall somewhere and didn’t find one—well, it had lasted around
twenty whole
minutes so far. Folks generally gave up after only a few seconds of trying to
deflect Gran’s missiles.
    “ Don’t pay any attention to my grandmother,
M ar tin. She enjoys making people feel
stupid.”
    “ Heh,” said Gran—but her eyes shone like
little black beads, and Christina knew she’d scored a point with the old
lady.
    Martin, eyeing Gran with some amusement, nodded. “I figured as much.
I’ve got an uncle you might like to meet one day, Mrs. Mayhew. You could
probably amuse yourselves for years dodging verbal darts.”
    Christina
chuckled. Gran squinted at Martin.
    “ Don’t you go getting sassy, young man. I don’t
take to sassy young people.”
    “ Don’t lie, Gran,” Christina shot at her
immediately. “Sassy people are the only people you like, young or
not.”
    “ Heh.”
    The waiter showed up, steering clear of Gran and her cane, and stood
beside Martin’s shoulder. “Have you decided, sir?” he asked in a snooty
voice he’d assumed, Christina figured, for the sake of the
picture people.
    Martin glanced from Gran to Christina, where his gaze stuck.
“Ladies?”
    Never in her life, until this minute, had Christina ever allowed herself
to be flustered by a gentleman looking at he r. What was it about Martin
Ta fft that made her act like an idiot?
    She didn’t know, and it wasn’t something she’d
better think
about here, as she sat at the dinner table with him. “I’ll have the chicken en
casserole,” she said in her cool, rich voice, the one she’d cultivated for social
purposes.
    “ Chicken.” Gran snorted. “I wouldn’t trust
these people with a chicken, either. I’ll take the steak.”
She thrust the paper menu at the waiter, who took it
and seemed startled.
    Smiling, Martin said, “I’ll have the chicken en
casserole, too, please. I’m sure your chef can cook a chicken just
fine.”
    “ Chef?” Gran grumbled. “They’ve probably
got some old grandmother in an apron back there.”
    “ Er, yes, sir,” the waiter mumbled at
Martin, clearly trying to avoid acknowledging Gran’s
sarcasm. “ And would you care for something to
drink?”
    Martin lifted his left eyebrow in a gesture of
inquiry, which shouldn’t have made Christina’s blasted heart speed up, but
did. “Would you care, to share a bottle of wine,
ladies? I don’t know what the Desert Palm Resort offers, but I’m sure it’s
palatable.”
    “ Wine?” Gran barked out. “Give me a
whiskey and soda, young