Mine 'Til Monday Read Online Free PDF

way.
    But as she shifted her weight so that one long leg pressed against his, sending an alarming jolt up his calf, along his thigh, he felt the unmistakable stirrings of hunger for her.
    He wanted to put his hands on her waist and shift her gently around, take the club from her hands and let it fall in the soft grass. He wanted those legs twined among his own, wanted to deepen the contact until the length of her body was pressed against him.
    He wanted to kiss her, like he’d done once before.
    She might not remember, but he did. It hadn’t been his first kiss—though he suspected it might have been hers, the way her lips brushed his so tentatively, the way her pulse raced beneath his fingers at her wrists.
    It didn’t last long, but he remembered it like it was yesterday. He remembered the way her lashes had fluttered against his cheek. He forgot to breathe, even after she’d pulled away and run barefoot back up the dock, never looking back.
     
     
    Dorothy pressed her nails into her palms under the white linen tablecloth, her head pounding with the effort of thinking.
    “Uh, Beef Wellington,” she said. “And—and cauliflower.”
    Miranda’s perfectly-shaped brows arched. “Really, my dear? Walter was fond of Beef Wellington, too. Men and red meat, you know. But I could never get the dear man to touch cauliflower.” She shook her head and made a note with her slender gold pen.
    “Now, does Dempsey have a favorite dessert?”
    Dorothy took a deep breath. Originally she’d thought she might convince Mud to go by his given name for one weekend. Now she wasn’t so sure. The man was as contrary as ever.
    “Miranda, did I mention that nearly everyone calls Dempsey by a nickname?”
    “Oh, is that right?” The older lady’s eyes blazed with curiosity. She was clearly enjoying planning the weekend.
    She’d barely touched her lunch, and was making columns of notes in her flowery script.
    But Dorothy hadn’t anticipated all the details she would be called on to provide, the questions about Mud’s likes and dislikes and—well—everything. It was a little overwhelming.
    “Yes. It’s...you see, believe it or not, it’s ‘Mud’”. She gave a little laugh, one that she hoped conveyed a sort of crazy-I-know-but-I-can’t-help-loving-him tone.
    “‘Mud’? That’s unusual. Where on earth did that come from?”
    “Well...” She knew the story well, of course. How as soon as Mud could walk, he was out the door, in the garden, digging and uprooting and generally making a mess of things, so that he always seemed to be covered in...mud. “It was a childhood name that just stuck.”
    “How intriguing! All right...so we have the meals planned, and I’m going to give you two the cottage. I’ll have Robert look over the place, make sure everything’s working. Haven’t had guests in a while, you know. Daphne will see to the linens...”
    As Miranda prattled on, Dorothy drew her breath in chagrin. The cottage! She’d never imagined that Miranda would make sleeping arrangements that put the two of them in the same quarters.
    “Miranda,” she interjected, “I would be happy to—that is, wouldn’t it be more appropriate, if I stay in the house and Mud could stay elsewhere?”
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Miranda clapped her hands together and regarded Dorothy with a sly smile. “You’re in love! Enjoy! Besides, as hard as you’ve been working lately, the two of you need a little time together, I’m sure. The cottage is nice and private, and we’ll have it all ready for you. It’s such a darling little place, I hate to see it standing empty all the time. You’ll bring life back to it.”
    “Wonderful,” Dorothy managed. It would look too odd to argue. After all, what woman wouldn’t jump at the chance to steal away to a romantic retreat with Mud?
    That is—with her fiancé. Dorothy shook her head to clear her mind. It could be anyone. He was just playing a part, after all, and Dorothy would