Maid of Dishonor Read Online Free PDF Page B

Marnie had gained in the past year leached away as her brother refused to budge. In fact, Gina was fairly sure from his uninterested replies that he wasn’t even listening.
    For that alone, Gina could have throttled him with her bare hands. Why did so many men have to be like her father, judgmental and superior and always, always right?
    She pressed back into the alcove as Marnie’s bedroom door closed upstairs and footsteps came down the stairs. She caught a glimpse of a tall figure dressed in a creased chambray shirt and suit trousers as he strolled into the kitchen.
    She stayed in the alcove, hearing his heavy sigh, and debated the wisdom of getting involved: with her tendency to be provocative she was liable to make it worse, and it really wasn’t any of her business. But as she walked to the kitchen doorway and spied on him helping himself to one of Reese’s chilled diet colas from the fridge, anger and resentment flared.
    He closed the fridge, his broad back to her as he twisted the cap off the bottle and flipped it into the bin, then took a long swallow of the cola. One large hand gripped the edge of the sink but the rigid line of his shoulder blades relaxed.
    Why should she respect his privacy when he hadn’t respected Marnie’s—and how could she possibly make things worse?
    Leaning insolently against the doorjamb, she gave her voice the soft smoky purr she knew made men putty in her hands. ‘You know, you really ought to take that huge stick out from up your arse. It’s going to ruin the very nice line of those designer trousers.’
    He swung round and her lungs seized in astonishment.
    It seemed Marnie had failed to mention one fairly crucial bit of information about her big brother during all the gushing this year. Carter Price was a total hottie.
    At six foot two or three, with mile-wide shoulders and the tanned skin of a pirate, he was as big and dark as his sister was small and fair, but the relationship was confirmed by the striking eyes that narrowed on her face—and shared the exact same shade of cerulean blue as his sister’s. On Marnie they looked cute and appealing. On her brother they looked cold and intense.
    The unblinking gaze drifted down her frame as he took another swig of the stolen cola and Gina felt the prickle of response, everywhere.
    She settled back against the doorjamb, but clamped down on the urge to stretch her back—thus displaying what she knew to be an exceptional pair of breasts to their best advantage.
    Focus, Gina. You’re not here to flirt with the guy. You’re here to tell him a thing or two about women’s emancipation—and his sister’s emancipation in particular.
    â€˜You’ve got quite a mouth on you, miz.’ The deep drawl was as slow and seductive as molasses but for the steely hint of censure beneath. ‘My daddy would have taken a hickory switch to my backside if I’d used that sort of language in the presence of a lady.’
    â€˜I guess we’re both very fortunate then that you’re not in the presence of a lady,’ she replied tartly.
    Carter Price wasn’t just a hottie, he was also a sexist control freak, but no way was he going to control her, with his cool Southern manners and his total contempt for a women’s right to self-determination.
    She let her gaze drift over him too. ‘Because I’d really hate to see what I can imagine is an exceptionally cute backside being whipped with a hickory switch—unless I was the one doing it.’
    Let’s see how you like being objectified, Buster.
    Two dark eyebrows arched, and she felt the wave of satisfaction at the knowledge that she’d shocked him. Gina Carrington was no simpering Southern miss prepared to bow down to the dictates of a man. And the sooner Carter Price got that message, the better. But then his irises darkened and his lips twitched at the edges. And she had the strangest feeling she might