The Lancaster Men Read Online Free PDF Page A

toward the table.
    Rising to her feet, she didn’t hear Rory’s muffled curse. Her lips were parted in a silent laugh of delight, her green eyes sparkling as she glided forward to meet him. It seemed natural to walk right into his arms. Closing her eyes, she hugged him tight and rested her cheek against his smoothly shaven jaw.
    “It seems so long since I’ve seen you, Whit,” she declared with a sigh.
    He smelled of tobacco and tangy after-shave, heady and familiar aromas that she always associatedwith him. His hands were around her waist, strong and firm in their pressure.
    “It’s only been since Easter,” he mocked gently and brushed his mouth over her temple.
    “Yes, but you were so busy that I hardly saw you at all except at the dinner table,” she reminded him and returned the light caress of his mouth by pressing her lips firmly against his cheek.
    Her red lipstick left a visible imprint of her kiss on his tanned skin. Shari laughed softly when she saw it and borrowed the handkerchief tucked in the breast pocket of his dark jacket.
    “I’ve left my mark on you.” She took her time wiping it off, peering at him through the upward sweep of her lashes and enjoying the golden warmth of his brown eyes as he watched her.
    “You left your mark on me a long time ago.” Whit took the handkerchief from her and stuffed it back into his pocket. His gaze swept her upturned face with an admiring, yet an aloof look. “It doesn’t seem possible, but you seem to have grown more beautiful.”
    His lazy compliment sent a thrill of pleasure through her. “You are still the handsomest man I know,” Shari countered.
    She experienced a vague tingle of surprise as she realized her statement was the truth. She had yet to meet a man who could measure up to Whit in either looks or strength of character. Perhaps that was why she had never become seriously involved with anyone she’d dated.
    When his hands applied pressure to set her awayfrom him, she made an involuntary move of protest. She wasn’t ready to end this warm reunion with her stepbrother. He arched an eyebrow in her direction, the glint of mockery in his look.
    “People are going to get the impression I’m your long-lost lover if we don’t break this up,” Whit taunted in a low drawl.
    It was the second time in a single day the word “lover” had been used in conjunction with him. A hot warmth spread across her face, reddening her cheeks as Shari pulled away from him. His eyes narrowed in sharpened interest on her face.
    “Are you blushing, Shari?” he accused, a faint curve deepening the corners of his mouth.
    “No,” she denied that quickly and would have turned away from his penetrating gaze, but his hand caught her chin and forced her to stay where she was.
    “Yes, you are,” he insisted lazily. “Does it embarrass you to think of me as a lover?”
    She was reluctantly conscious of the pressure of his strong fingers against her cheek and throat. There was a sensation of intimacy in their touch that she couldn’t explain. Her pulse began hammering in her throat. Shari recoiled from the possibility that this disturbance was caused by any physical attraction.
    A mask settled over his features, blocking out his thoughts. His hand came away from her chin, letting her go as he appeared to lose interest in her answer.
    “Never mind,” Whit said. “You don’t need to answer that. It was a foolish question.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we join the others at the table?”
    As she turned and slipped her hand inside the crook of his arm, she questioned the reason for his unexpected appearance. “What brought you here?” Her gaze wandered to the table where it rested on Rory’s grim expression. She immediately knew the answer to her question. “You came because of Rory, didn’t you?”
    Whit slanted her a downward glance that seemed silently alert. “Yes.” It was a simple, straightforward answer that told her nothing of his intentions or