Sunny Chandler's Return Read Online Free PDF Page A

Beaumont’s gaze. She couldn’t see it behind his glasses, but she could
feel
it moving over her, resting on places that felt abnormally warm.
    “It’s hot today,” she said briskly.
    “And getting hotter.”
    “Almost too hot to fish.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Her father was a fisherman. In the summertime he went out early in the morning, while it was still relatively cool and the lake was shrouded with mist. He never went out in his fishing boat in the heat of the day. An accusation was forming in her mind, but he spoke before she had a chance to.
    “I bet you love the heat.”
    “I do,” Sunny admitted. “How did you know?”
    “You’re a very sensuous woman.”
    “What makes you say that?”
    “Lots of things. I watched you yesterday at the party.”
    He crossed his legs more comfortably. At least the readjustment made
him
more comfortable. It unnerved Sunny considerably. She swallowed hard as she glanced down at the impressive bulge between his thighs. The aged denim cutoffs had conformed to the shape of his body years ago. They kept no secrets.
    “I noticed your ankle bracelet right away.” He reached out and, with his index finger, followed the slender gold chain around her ankle. “There’s not another woman in Latham Green who wears an ankle bracelet.”
    “Have you personally verified that statistic?”
    “An educated guess,” he said, taking no offense at her mild rebuke. “It’s not a piece of jewelry that the majority of women wear. Only women with intensely passionate natures.”
    She jerked her foot away from his hand. “That’s crazy.” Sunny wished that her voice had more impetus behind it and didn’t sound so breathy. “I bought it because I like it. I think it’s pretty.”
    “You bought it for yourself?”
    “What’s wrong with that?”
    “A man didn’t give it to you?”
    “No.”
    “That’s a damn shame.”
    “Why?”
    “Installing it would have made for one helluva private party.” He grinned broadly.
    “Look, Mr. Beaumont, I don’t know what my
former
friend George told you about me—”
    “Oh, he told me plenty, but I formed my own opinions.”
    “In the ten minutes that we were together?”
    “Before we even met,” he said easily. “Did you realize that you mouthed the words to every song the band played last night?”
    Sunny was about to argue when she decided that denying it was pointless. Singing along with the radio was a habit of hers. “I like music.”
    “And food. I’ve already told you that your mouth does more for a strawberry than shortcake and whipped cream.”
    “You make eating a strawberry sound lewd.”
    “It bordered on it,” he said softly.
    Sunny had no effective comeback prepared and decided that if such were the case, it would be more prudent to say nothing. Even when she was at her most acerbic, he seemed to be ready with a glib rejoinder.
    “You selected food from the buffet very carefully. Food with eye appeal. Everything you put on your plate was...pretty.” He smiled as though “pretty” was a word he didn’t use frequently. “Except for the oyster, of course, and you only took that because Mrs. Morris was annoying you.”
    Sunny’s mouth formed a small
o
. Just how long
had
he watched her? But more startling than the time involved was his accurate perception of her. She felt exposed and vulnerable. “You should have become a window peeper.”
    “How do you know I’m not?” At her stunned expression, he laughed. “Relax. I’m not that subtle. Nor that masochistic. If I’m interested in a woman, I want to do more than peep at her from the bushes. I want to touch.”
    He picked up her plastic bottle of suntan oil and poured a drop into his palm. He sniffed it. “Smells like a drink from Trader Vic’s bar.”
    “That’s why I bought it.”
    “I’m not surprised. Several times last night I saw you smelling the flowers.”
    He was rubbing the oil between his palms. The slow, rotating motion of his