Sweets to the Sweet Read Online Free PDF Page B

quality; her antiques were worth a small fortune. She was just so…alone.
    And Laura was a woman who shouldn’t be alone, if any man had sense in his head. She was proud and warm and intelligent; her eyes had a sensual incandescence when she looked at her little one. Such a great capacity for love.
    Why was she alone? What kind of fool had her ex-husband been?
    Carrying his glass of wine, he returned to the fire and crouched down to add another log. Orange sparks flew up the chimney, hot and crackling. He sensed that she’d quickly drawn up the baby blanket to cover herself. There was no need; he wasn’t looking.
    He didn’t need to look. In his mind he carried an indelible picture of her bared breast bathed in the warmth of the fire’s glow. He settled on her couch and sipped the wine, seeing images he had no business seeing…and willing them anyway.
    Laura shifted the baby to the other breast. “Owen? You live in Ridgefield?”
    “I bought a house here about three years ago. Truthfully, though, I haven’t spent more than a few months in it in all that time. It needs some work…” He swirled the golden liquid in his glass. His house was the last thing on his mind. For once, even the business wasn’t on his mind. His conscience was reading him a riot act. Licentious thoughts were inappropriate around a woman fresh out of the hospital, but his mind wouldn’t stop filling up with…images.
    When Laura shifted the baby to her other breast, he knew that the flame would cast amber and shadow on her supple skin.
    “Owen?”
    He saw the shadow of the baby’s fist flailing, then curling possessively on her mother’s breast. He gulped the last of his wine and fumbled for the track of conversation. She’d asked something about why they grew the cocoa beans in Brazil. “Most beans are grown in either West Africa or Brazil. Soil and climate affect their taste. A blend of Brazilian beans produces the sharpest, clearest flavor…though I doubt you’d get our competition to agree.”
    He hoped that answered her question, because he’d already forgotten it. She propped the baby on her shoulder to burp. For an instant, her bare breast was silhouetted in the shadow of the fire.
    Owen felt abruptly more rational when she finished buttoning up her blouse. At least until she turned around, and he saw the natural, sensual sweetness of her face.
    The baby was sleeping on her shoulder, very full and contented. Owen felt hollow and frustrated, and could only hope he didn’t look that way.
    Laura stood up. “I’m going to lay her down,” she whispered.
    When she took the baby upstairs, Owen rolled down his shirtsleeves, buttoned the cuffs and glanced around for his suit jacket. He wasn’t staying; he refused to allow himself to stay. She was exhausted and needed rest. But the first thing he said to her when she came back down was “Would you come outside with me for a few minutes?”

Chapter 3
    “Just for a few minutes,” Owen promised her.
    Laura glanced uncertainly up the loft stairs. “I can’t leave Mari.”
    “We won’t go far. You’ll be able to hear her.”
    Laura stepped outside ahead of him, her arms folded tightly under her chest. Her kitchen door led to a cedar deck overlooking the ravine.
    The night was cool. A faint breeze murmured through the new summer leaves. In the distance, she could hear the gurgling rush of the creek, and all around her the rain had intensified all the smells of early summer—grass and pungent earth and the sweet hyacinths.
    Behind her, Owen leaned against the cedar rail.
    She could feel his eyes on her, and when she turned, the breeze tossed a wisp of pale hair across her cheek; she brushed it away. Moonlight touched his features, the lines of strength and purpose, the opaque shine of his eyes. Away from the firelit room, away from Mari, alone with him in the darkness, she suddenly felt aware of him as a man.
    Her tongue was inexplicably tripping itself, trying to find something