Mad About The Man Read Online Free PDF Page A

she was cast in gold tints. Slender, yet all woman, Gaby McGregor sent a clear message to Jacques, one admittedly received most strongly by his hormones, but not entirely so. She was sharp and sexy and he would want to find out just how sexy.
    He remembered what he'd been heading into town to do and suppressed a smile. "We're bound to be seeing each other frequently, anyway."
    "Why?" she asked baldly, planting her feet apart.
    "Oh, because I've decided I need to have an office in town during the heavy planning phase. It's always best to be in the middle of things where business is concerned." Not that he'd ever been in the middle of the business he'd headed, up till now. Ledan' s clicked along very nicely with little more than his presence at board meetings and his signature on a never-ending heap of dotted lines. "Yes, I'll be in Goldstrike a good deal of the time in the months to come."
    "I'm always very busy," Gaby said. "I don't get around town much."
    Jacques made a decision, one of the few he'd ever made in quite such a hurry. "If I'm not mistaken, you won't have to get around to see me." He pulled out the list he'd been carrying in his shirt pocket and pretended to study it. "I'm … You're not going to believe this, but unless you're planning to move your business—"
    "I'm not."
    "Good." He approached the door. "You do rent this space from a Mr. Shaw?"
    "Yes." Her face was tight.
    "This really is a coincidence. I made enquiries about empty spaces that might be available in Gold strike. But maybe you already knew that?"
    She nodded.
    "Yes, of course you did. We discovered this build ing had unoccupied space upstairs. Bart was saying he thought it would convert into a great suite of of fices. I've decided I agree with him, so you'll be see ing a lot of me." He smiled his most charming smile. "I hope you'll be as happy about that as I am."
     

 
    3
     
     
    S unday mornings wouldn't be the same without breakfast at Sis's. Gaby propped her elbows on the brown Formica-topped table, cradled her thick, yellow coffee mug in both hands and pretended not to see Mae hide most of her egg beneath a piece of toast.
    The rush had thinned. In addition to Gaby and Mae, a group of farmers hunched in a back booth were the only remaining patrons. Warm maple syrup, crispy bacon and fresh-brewed coffee were the scents of the moment.
    "What d'you feel like doing today?" Gaby asked, already anticipating the response.
    "Gonna help Sis. She says I can put the apples in the pies." Mae's current ambition was to run a diner "just like Sis's," which the girl considered to be the hub of everything exciting that happened in Gold strike.
    "Maybe you should ask if it's all right with me, Mae."
    "You always say it's all right."
    Gaby looked down at Mae's shiny black ponytail and the soft curve of her seven-year-old cheek. Life was mostly very wonderful. "I guess I do." She gave the ponytail a gentle tug. "Don't get in the way. And call me when Sis is tired of you."
    The door opened to admit Sophie Byler, elderly but spry and still exuding the all-seeing alertness of a small-town schoolteacher—which was exactly what she'd been before she retired.
    "Morning, Sis." Sophie nodded curtly at the tall, stately owner of the diner and headed for Gaby's booth. "Char tells me you had a few visitors yesterday." She slid in to sit opposite Gaby and Mae.
    "It's as bad as you said it was, Sophie," Gaby said. "Probably worse. Did Char give you the scoop about mining exhibits and leprechauns?"
    Sophie shuddered. "We aren't taking it lying down. We aren't taking it at all. We've got some history to preserve here. Maybe it's not significant to the rest of the world, but it is to us… and to our chil dren."
    The school had closed a couple of years after Sophie, already in her late sixties then, had decided to spend her days pleasing only herself—which meant she became the self-appointed guardian of Gold strike's affairs. And since then the children had been bussed