It's a Wonderful Wife Read Online Free PDF

frowned when he spotted the unfamiliar handwriting on the bottom of the list, then snorted when he realized who it belonged to. It would appear the ever-interesting Miss Glace had passed her time waiting for the firemen to finish putting her car out of its misery by snooping through his truck, and had added
large pot of honey
to his grocery list.
    Not the least bit apologetic for where his mind started heading—he was a man, after all—Jesse wondered how long it might take a woman to get over such a public humiliation, as well as how long before she might consider dating again. Because instead of stealing occasional visits to the island this summer like he’d planned, maybe he’d work on clearing his calendar when he got back to the office. Hell, if Sam and Ben could have the corporate jet shuttle them back and forth for meetings they needed to attend in person, he might as well begin his own ritual of commuting to work at the speed of sound.
    And when he returned next month, he should probably pay Miss Glace a visit.
    No, he’d better get back here in two weeks, just in case some of the local men also realized those sparkling blue eyes and delightful curves were suddenly available. Yeah; surely two weeks was enough time for an intelligent woman to decide that today’s little disaster had probably saved her from a lifetime of crappy days.
    As for Stanley Kerr . . . well, he hoped the stupid bastard knew a good model-building firm if he couldn’t sweet-talk his
ex
-fiancée into recreating the ones that had been destroyed, because Jesse knew for a fact the check paying for them had already cleared the bank. He stuffed the grocery list in his pocket with another tired sigh, deciding to grab a frozen pizza and cold six-pack of beer and leave the rest of his shopping for the morning. But he stopped in mid-stuff, his fatigue suddenly vanishing when he spotted two deflated balloons dangling from the bottom of the camper door.
    Well, this was . . . interesting. In his line of business, sneaking onboard a vessel to get from point A to point B was a serious crime. Hell, it could even be fatal. And despite Abram Sinclair knowing firsthand the risks people were willing to take to get ahead in this world, the international shipping company the old wolf had started nearly five decades ago with nothing more than a thousand dollars and a fondness for taking outrageous risks had purposefully garnered a reputation for not tolerating stowaways.
    Shanghaiing a person like they had Willa’s brother-in-law three years ago, however, was perfectly acceptable if it happened to be a Sinclair putting the idiot on a slow boat to Italy.
    Was Miss Glace right now hiding in the closet, listening to see if he was going to enter the camper or go directly to the store? But Jesse suddenly bolted for the door at the realization there was an equally good chance she was passed out cold from hitting her head on something during any one of the times he’d dodged a monstrous pothole.
    He vaulted inside without bothering to lower the steps and immediately tripped over the huge purse sitting just inside the door, his curse lost in the sharp pops of bursting balloons as he fell and nearly slammed his own head into the kitchen island counter. He cursed again when he spotted his stowaway lying faceup on the floor in the narrow space between two of the camper’s retracted slide-outs, and he quickly scrambled to his feet.
    â€œCadi, are you okay?” he asked, dropping to his knees beside her.
    â€œI will be just as soon as this stupid camper stops moving,” she said tightly, not opening her eyes as Jesse carefully brushed the curls off her forehead looking for bumps or blood.
    Damn; she had to be concussed if she thought the camper was still moving. “Where are you hurt? Did you hit your head?” he asked, gently lifting one of her eyelids.
    Both beautiful blue eyes snapped open as she jerked