Husband Wanted Read Online Free PDF Page A

Coleman is in his office pretending to work, but I know he is sneaking a glass of whiskey, the scoundrel. He thinks he’s pulling one over me, but I’ve been employed here twenty years, and I know everything that goes on in this house.”
    Frannie did as she was told. They entered the living room and she couldn’t help but gape. It looked like something out of Southern Living . The ivory Berber carpet and taupe-colored damask upholstery with an assortment of beautiful throw pillows that added color, smacked of money.
    Walter must’ve heard the doorbell because he suddenly appeared, a wide smile on his face. “Welcome to my abode, Frannie,” he said, holding his hands out and greeting her, as if she were a long-lost relative. “I was half afraid you’d changed your mind.”
    “I was tempted once or twice,” she confessed with a shy smile. She discovered her own hands were trembling as she put them in his. “You have a lovely home, Mr. Coleman,” she said, noting the elaborate window treatments that adorned the floor-to-ceiling windows and tied everything together. She regretted now that she’d allowed Clay Coleman in her house.
    Walter waved off the remark. It was obvious he didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about what he had or didn’t have. He’d admitted, shortly after his heart attack, that he wasn’t as concerned with wealth as he’d once been. “Please sit down. Greta, would you kindly bring us coffee?”
    The housekeeper started for the door. “If I can get His Holiness to let me into the kitchen,” she muttered in that strange accent as she disappeared into the hall.
    Walter shook his head, a small smile tugging one corner of his mouth, convincing Frannie he’d been extremely handsome in his day. Not that he was hard on the eyes now, especially since he’d started taking care of himself. All that fresh air and exercise, not to mention the new diet, had softened the age lines around his mouth and eyes. It was obvious where Clay had gotten his good looks.
    “Don’t mind Greta,” he said, as soon as they were both seated. “She’s upset with the new chef, Jean-Paul.”
    “New chef?”
    “I borrowed him and a young maid, Louisa, from a couple who are leaving on holiday tomorrow. We can’t have your daughter eating Greta’s cooking.” He chuckled.
    “Oh, I wish you hadn’t gone to so much trouble,” Frannie began.
    “Nonsense. Besides, it’ll be a treat having a real chef for a while. Do you know, he had to drive to Savannah to find the ingredients he needed to stock the kitchen? After he tossed out almost everything in the pantry.”
    “Don’t forget you’re supposed to be watching your diet,” she almost whispered.
    He paused and glanced toward the door. “I asked him to cut fat wherever he could, but I don’t want to go overboard and have Clay suspect I’ve had health problems.”
    “Why is it so important that Clay not know, if you don’t mind my asking?”
    Walter gave a huge sigh. “I don’t want him to think his old man is about to kick off and should be pitied.”
    “All families have problems now and then, Mr. Coleman,” she said. “I’m sure Clay will come around eventually.”
    “I have my doubts.” He smiled again. “I hope you don’t mind, but that coffee will take a while,” he said, as though he wanted to change the subject. “Greta isn’t as quick as she used to be. Arthritis,” he added. “I’ve been after her to retire, but she won’t hear of it. She finally agreed to let me hire a cleaning service twice a week.”
    “It looks perfect to me,” Frannie said.
    “I built this place for my wife. She was from England. I hired an English architect to copy some of the features of the house she’d been brought up in.”
    “How romantic,” Frannie said. “You must’ve loved her very much.”
    He nodded after a moment. “I did love her,” he said, “although there are those who would claim otherwise. I was devastated when she