Love by the Letter Read Online Free PDF Page A

least disappointing.
    She shook her head; she was more enamored than ever. This spur-of-the-moment decision to tutor him would only end in heartache—hers.
    “So it’s not strongly ?” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he squinted at the page and pulled the book closer.
    “I’m sorry. I wasn’t shaking my head at you. It is strongly , as you said.” She reached out a reassuring hand but stopped herself. She’d never touched a man outside of her family—well, except for occasionally being helped down stairs or onto a buggy seat—yet she’d almost laid a hand on him a second time. Clenching her fingers, she blew out a breath.
    He shut the book. “I’m sorry I’m doing so poorly. This was a bad idea.”
    “Oh no.” And her hand was on his again. But if she snatched it back, she’d draw undo attention to where her hand ought not to be—again.
    Surely her touch reassured him, though the opposite sensation coursed through her skin: a warm, prickling awareness mixed with cold shivers. “I’m afraid my mind wandered. I was only reprimanding myself.”
    “And what were you reprimanding yourself for?”
    “Is it hot in here?” She jumped from her seat and went to the window. “Spring seems a bit muggy this year, don’t you think?” She lifted the sash and let the entirely too cold air in. Suppressing a shiver, she ignored the impulse to slide the window back down.
    “Do all women have malfunctioning furnaces under their skin?” He chuckled, the sound drawing out the gooseflesh already decorating her arms. “Mother often fought me over leaving windows open and then got mad at me later for shutting them.”
    Cupping the side of her neck, Rachel looked askance at the man driving her internal furnace up a notch past normal. Or maybe five notches. “Your mother was a lovely woman. I don’t think I ever gave you my condolences.”
    “That’s all right.” He abruptly stood and rambled over. “You do look flushed. I should head home so you can lie down.”
    She took a step back. She’d seen his tricks before. The few times Miss Christmore had asked him to read in front of the class, he distracted the teacher with some outlandish behavior that earnedhim a spell in the corner or made everyone laugh so the teacher forgot she’d called him forward as she tried to regain control.
    Miss Christmore hadn’t seen through his tactics, but Rachel had. However, with his deep green eyes only a foot away and that strand of brown hair falling across his forehead, she understood how easily a woman could be distracted.
    Dex reached up and tugged the mischievous strand back into place. “I think I’ve lost you.”
    No, Dex. You can’t lose what you never wanted. Pushing away from the windowsill, she returned to the table. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly.” And it was time to do so. If Dex hadn’t wanted anything to do with her before, he didn’t now. She was still, maddeningly, under the spell of his handsome face.
    But it was time to put away childhood fantasies—a man with homesteading dreams would never consider marrying a girl who’d spent more time translating Latin than learning how to bake a variety of breads.
    She sat and pointed at the book. “You can’t get out of reading that easily, Dex.” His name felt better on her lips than she imagined.
    She grimaced. Get yourself together; you’re supposed to be helping, not entertaining the daydreams you’ve given up. “I want you to read another page before you go.”
    He dragged himself away from the wall and sat as if his seat were a pin cushion. “How is this doing any good? You’re not teaching me anything.”
    “I’m assessing your needs.”
    “My needs?”
    Why did his question sound so breathy? “Yes, how you read lets me understand what might help you.” Though if he read and wrote like Allen, a handful of lessons wouldn’t do much good.
    “You make me sound like a science experiment.”
    “More like a puzzle.”
    “You like puzzles, do