Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evie Read Online Free PDF

bitten it.
    Six silver swans, she thought. Say it.
    “Thix thilver thwanz,” she said. Forget it. Sylvester the cat on pain medication. Her vocabulary would have to be confined to non-S words until that tongue healed up a bit.
    She brushed her hair and twisted it into a loose braid, idly wondering if Max Galloway liked redheads, then gave herself a mental shake.
    Why should she care what Max Galloway thought? He was the avowed enemy of a man she had loved. They were, therefore, adversaries by default.
    But Max h ad risked life and limb to rescue her. There was no getting around that, and she didn’t want to appear ungrateful. It was only fitting she find some way to thank him.
    Slipping on a pair of gold minihoops, she wondered if there was a Hallmark card that fit the occasion. The front would read For My Hero in swirly, twirly gold-embossed script. Inside, there’d be some generic, one-size-fits-all sentiment:
    What you did, it was great.
    You really are first rate.
    I was scared, you were strong.
    As to Thomas, you’re dead w rong
    You jerk.
    Okay, so pop poetry wasn’t her strong suit. She donned a summery print blouse and buttoned it,
    then tucked it into her jeans. Since she was going down to the barn after breakfast, she tugged on her old brown muck boots.
    With one last glance in the mirror, she decided this was as good as it was going to get under the cir cumstances, and headed downstairs.
    As she entered the grand dining room, she was greeted by the heady scent of coffee, and the even headier sight of Max Galloway.
    Oh, damn. She’d hoped to be down tending the llamas before he got up.
    He stood as she approached the table, a coffee mug in one hand and a linen napkin in the other. He was dressed in jeans and an indigo T-shirt, which showed off his athl etic build to perfection. Reluc tantly, she had to admit that finding a sexy hunk like Detective Max Galloway across the breakfast table in the morning would not be much of a hardship.
    Flicking a glance at her mouth, his hazel eyes glimmered with mischief. “It lo oks like you stubbed your face. ”
    At least I didn’t stub my brain, she thought, but didn’t say because it would have come out “thtubbed,” which would have thounded thtupid.
    “Actually,” he continued, giving her what he probably considered a charming grin, “I think it’s very sexy. The Angelina Jolie look is hot right now.”
    Did he think comparing her to a superthin movie star was going to make her feel better ? When she didn’t respond, he tapped his jaw with a finger and said, “Tough to talk?”
    Yeth, you thtupid ath.
    She nodded.
    “How are your bruises?” he asked gently, almost as though he cared. He poured coffee into her cup. “Do they bother you much?”
    Yeth, you thtupid ath.
    She shook her head. The fact was, her left shoulder and hip were badly bruised, deeply purple, and tender as hell. Her muscles were stiff and sore, and she fought the need to limp when she walked.
    Max pursed his lips and tilted his head as though assessing whether she was telling the truth. When his gaze grazed the bruise on her jaw, she thought she saw genuine concern in his eyes. That assumption, however, was shot to hell when he grinned and said, “So what are you going to give me for saving your life?”
    Thomas had been right. Max Galloway didn’t have one compassionate bone in his body. Not in his whole disturbingly perfect body.
    “According to ancient Celtic cultures and the customs of my ancestors,” he said, “I own you now.” Again with the cute grin.
    “The Clan MacOaf, no doubt,” she muttered as she took the seat across from his. Adding cream and sugar to her coffee, she stirred it, then wrapped her hands around the porcelain’s warmth.
    Ignoring her sarcasm, Max sat down and said, “It’s true. My mother was an amateur archaeologist. She did a lot of work in Britain.”
    Is that where she dug you up ? she said with a look, then nearly flinched when their gazes