The Boat Builder's Bed Read Online Free PDF Page A

petals down as she hunted for her key.
    “The Rose Queen.”  
    Sophie stilled at his quiet murmur. He’d stopped right behind her to sift petals from the wavy strands of her hair. So he had a thing for long hair?  
    She shivered as she felt him touching her. “Don’t. I’ll get rid of them in a minute.”
    It felt unnerving having him so close again. Maybe he just intended being helpful but her jangling nerves told her she needed more distance between them.  
    And the jangling grew even louder when he moved in front of her and continued to pluck at the rose petals with his dark face now only inches above hers. She squeezed her eyes closed, unable to look at him. But she could smell his faint cologne over the swirling rose perfume.
    And feel his hands.
    Gentle but insistent.
    “All gone,” he said, and she opened her eyes in time to find him holding the final petal. He brushed it over her mouth before he tossed it onto the path. Back and forth in the softest of caresses that made her think of warm days, gentle breezes, time to spare on sensual pleasures. How long since she’d been so instantly lost?
    She parted her lips to object and Rafe grinned disarmingly.
    “Just tidying you up. You looked like something out of a fairy story.”
    “Not businesslike,” she snapped as her commonsense leaked back. “This is a business arrangement.”
    Yeah, right , her body jeered, quaking at the knees, moistening and buzzing where an entirely different business seemed to be under way.  
    She shrugged aside and jammed the key in the lock, relieved when it turned at the first attempt. Once the door swung open she stepped past him, releasing a huge and grateful sigh. Now she could hurry into the bedroom and get out of his disturbing presence.
    “Have a seat,” she called back over her shoulder, indicating the only armchair, and hoping he’d sit instead of prowling around. “I’ll truly be fast.”  
    To her annoyance he chose the sofa, slouched down, leaned back against the cushions, crossed his very long legs at the ankle, and looked thoroughly at home.
    Sophie bit back her resentment. Why did some people have all the confidence in the world? Money helped of course, but there was more to it than that.  
    Look at him—taking up half the room as though he owns the place.
    She pushed the bedroom door almost closed.
    “Definitely compact,” she heard him remark.
    “More affordable that way,” she shot back, rattling her small selection of hangers along the wardrobe rail.  
    “Just the one bedroom?”
    “All I need.”
    “There’s only you?”
    “I see plenty of clients during the day and like peace for my paperwork at night.”
    “All work and no play...?”
    She could hear definite amusement in his voice now.
    “Plenty of play when it suits me,” she insisted, peeling off her skirt, struggling into her black jeans and hopping about until she had both feet on the floor again. She zipped the jeans up with a savage rasp. They were much more sensible for a building site, but might they have to double as her lunch outfit? They looked okay with her white silk camisole, anyway.
    If I take my leather jacket, that should work.
    She glanced at her watch. No way would she exceed her estimated two minutes.
    Shoes. Damn. Take the sandals, wear the ankle boots and hope the site is somewhere near civilized.
    “And what do you consider play?”  
    She sighed to herself. There wasn’t much play...
    “Dinner with friends. A run in the gardens. My art class. Movies, clubbing, all the usual stuff.”
    She grabbed her black bomber jacket, hooked a finger through the straps of her sandals, and sneaked a quick look in the mirror. Her hair looked terrible. She gave it a few desperate strokes with her hairbrush, bundled it into a scrunchie, picked up her sandals and jacket again, and hurried back to the little sitting room.
    She halted abruptly. Rafe was nowhere in sight. Then he leaned out of the small alcove that housed her