Love Letters, Inc. Read Online Free PDF

part of it.
    * * *
    Kent phoned the following afternoon.
    "I got another one of your letters today," he said without preamble.
    "They are not my letters. They are Gardenia's letters," she stated flatly.
    "I prefer to put a name with the prose," he said, his tone silky with a hint of tease.
    Rosie rubbed one of her warming cheeks. For the first time, she realized this situation could get really embarrassing before it was over. Especially if he insisted on calling the letters hers. While romantic, the letters were also—at Gardenia's urging—rather bold. Some of her descriptions had made the top of Rosie's ears glow. She'd even told Rosie how big it was and just how she wanted it described. Of course, Rosie had swallowed her lies whole and jumped in with her usual excess of enthusiasm. How could she have been such a twit?
    She pulled at her neck brace to let the steam escape so she could talk. "Then use someone else's name," she finally said. "This one's taken."
    "Who's the lucky guy?"
    "What? Oh, I meant taken by me." Damn it, she should have lied. But she was no good at lying.
    "Glad to hear it. Can I buy you dinner tonight? We'll discuss your idea. Make a decision."
    "No."
    "That's it? No?" He sounded stunned.
    "The brace and I eat in."
    Silence.
    "Then I'll come by tomorrow. We'll talk then."
    "I won't be here tomorrow. A colleague of mine is coming to drive me to the office. It's our weekly project meeting."
    More silence. Rosie broke it. She shouldn't do this, but the sooner they could resolve the matter of Gardenia, the better. She hadn't liked the way her stomach lurched and fluttered when she'd picked up the phone and found him on the other end. No way was she going to be entered into that scheduler of his. A woman had to be strong.
    "Why don't you come here for dinner?" she said, and found herself holding her breath.
    "You're sure?"
    "Yes." No, she wasn't sure. This much lying she could handle. "I haven't cooked for anyone since my surgery. It'll be fun."
    "Eight o'clock, okay? I've got a late meeting."
    Of course, you have, she thought. Men like you always have late meetings. And early ones. And weekend ones.
    "Eight's fine," she said. "See you then."
    She clicked off the phone and looked at the clock. She had four hours, and, she told herself as she headed for her kitchen, creamed corn where her brain should be. She shouldn't have invited him here. What needed to be done about Gardenia could be done over the phone. She did not want to start something with Kent Summerton. And by inviting him to dinner, she had confirmed Jonesy's opinion of her. She was certifiable.
    Font gave her a one-eyed stare from his sentry sleeping post in front of the fireplace. She registered it as disapproval. "Be careful what you say, big guy. You're looking at the mess hall cook here."
    She opened the fridge door, which was enough incentive for him to rise on all fours and lumber over to help with the inventory.
    "So what do you think?" She dug through the meat drawer. "Lamb or beef?"
    His tail whomped her thigh and he winked.
    Rosie looked at the New York steaks in her hand, let out a long wistful breath, and nodded. "You're right, Font, he's definitely a beefcake kind of guy."
    * * *
    Later that night, when dinner was over, Kent had to agree with Rosie. She was a terrific cook. And she wrote great letters. When he'd gone back to the office yesterday afternoon, the first thing he'd done was reread every single one. Since meeting her, the letters had taken on a whole new meaning. Now he saw Rosie in every heated line. He'd almost be sorry to see the last of them. Almost.
    After he'd helped with the dishes, she told him to go in the living room and relax while she had a few strong words with the brace. He was, she told him, driving her crazy. Kent ignored the fact she'd imbued the creation with human character—male at that—and did as she said, carrying in a tray bearing coffee and two pieces of what looked like the best peach pie he'd