One Touch of Moondust Read Online Free PDF Page A

That’s all. You come and go as you please. I come and go as I please.”
    He grinned at her. “Does that mean you don’t want lunch?”
    Before she could say a strenuous no, her stomach rumbled. “Okay. Fine. Lunch would be good. We can iron out the details of the arrangement and make a schedule for the kitchen.”
    â€œWhatever you say.”
    In the kitchen there were more marigolds on the counter. A bottle of wine had been opened, an omelet pan was on the stove and she could smell French bread warming in the oven. Her mouth watered. She tried not to notice that the wallpaper was still peeling.
    â€œIs there anything I can do?”
    â€œNope. It’s all under control, unless you’d like to pour the wine.”
    â€œSure. Where are the glasses?”
    He nodded toward the cabinet to his left. “Up there.”
    She found four jelly glasses with cartoons on them and a stack of plastic cups. Well, why not? The wine would taste just as good from a glass with little yellow Flintstone characters on it as it would from her Waterford. She selectedthe two that matched and poured the wine, then handed Paul his glass.
    â€œShall we have a toast?” he asked, glancing over at her.
    â€œTo what?”
    â€œRoommates.” His gaze lingered on her until she felt heat rise in her cheeks. Her heart thumped unsteadily. “And friends.”
    Before she could protest, he tapped his glass to hers and sipped the wine. “It may not be French, but it’s not bad.”
    Gabrielle wondered at the defensive tone, then taunted back, “I prefer California wines myself.” She grabbed two mismatched plates from the cupboard and turned around to set the table…only there wasn’t one.
    â€œWhere… ?”
    â€œWe’ll have to eat in the living room, unless you’d like to go outside. I think it’s warm enough today for the garden, if we stay bundled up. The sun’s just getting around there.”
    The garden. Perfect. Just the thought of it brought a smile to her lips. “We’ll go outside.”
    She loaded up everything she could carry and went downstairs. Paul followed minuteslater with the steaming food. When they’d finished the cheese and mushroom omelets, the entire loaf of French bread and a bowl of grapes, he slid lower in the chair, stretched his powerful legs out in front of him and stared at her as he sipped his wine.
    â€œYou should spend more time outdoors,” he said finally. “You’re too pale.”
    â€œHaven’t you heard? The sun is bad for your skin.”
    â€œUse sunscreen and moderation. It’ll put a little color in those cheeks. You could add a couple of pounds, too. You’ve probably been starving yourself.”
    â€œI have not been starving myself, thank you very much, and my figure is no concern of yours.”
    â€œI’m the one who has to look at it.”
    â€œYou don’t have to. In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t. Remember our deal.”
    â€œOur deal was that I’d stay in my own room at night. There were no restrictions on what I’d do during the day.”
    â€œWhich brings us to something very important. We need to set a schedule.”
    â€œI don’t do schedules.” The response wasdeceptively soft and pleasant. She had a feeling it hid a mulish personality.
    â€œIf this is going to work, we have to have a schedule,” she said firmly. “You can’t just come barging into the kitchen when I’m…” She could not bring herself to complete the thought.
    â€œFixing breakfast?” he offered with a grin.
    She scowled. “No, dammit. When I’m taking a bath.” She struggled for a businesslike demeanor. “Now, it seems reasonable that I have the use of the kitchen in the morning, since I have to go out on job interviews. You probably like to bathe at the end of the day anyway. So that should work