The Rented Bride (Highland Billionaires Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

silver trays. Cassie did a quick calculation and picked up a tray of salmon and cucumber twists. She turned to find Sam standing behind her. Cassie rocked backwards. The tray tipped precariously and for a horrible instant she thought she and the tray were going to crash to the floor. But Sam seized her with one hand, and the edge of the tray with the other, and steadied them both. His large hand was strong on her waist, exerting just enough pressure to make her tummy flutter.
    Cassie froze for an uncertain instant, then took a step away from him. His grip loosened and his fingers grazed her hip as she moved out of his reach. “Thanks,” she said. “But you might consider not standing so close next time.”
    He didn’t reply, and she realized they were both still holding the tray. She extended the tray toward him and he took it.
    Cassie pointed to the door to their left. “Out that door and to your left.”
    “My apologies,” he said, and she wondered if he mocked her.
    Tray balanced in his right hand, he strode to the door. He pushed through the swinging door and she glimpsed his expert lift of the tray to shoulder level.
    Cassie released a sigh. The stress of the party had her nerves thrumming. No way would she let a server as hot as the spice in her cayenne cheese canapés, smelling like sex and seduction, drive her to distraction. That’s how Teri Gallagher got herself fired. Cassie understood the allure. Ace was six-foot-one, all masculine muscle and energy. But damn, she knew Sam had been staring at her ass as she preceded him. She’d tripped over her own feet and nearly fallen with a tray of hors d'oeuvres. Was this a test? Did Mr. Weston set up all his employees to fall from grace?
    ***
    Trent skirted the wall and took four steps toward the open bar.
    “Trent,” a familiar voice called. 
    He turned to face Celina Young. She was one of three people in the world he considered family—and that included his extended family.
    Her eyes fixed on the tray of canapés he balanced in his right hand, then came back to his face. “Hankering for your old high school days?” she asked.
    “We’re short of help in the kitchen,” he said.
    She laughed. “And you’re pitching in.”
    “Why not?”
    He started to set the tray on the bar, but she said, “Hold on there, I’m hungry.”
    He held the tray as she took two canapés, then set the tray on the bar.
    “Can I get you a drink?” the barkeeper asked.
    “Nothing for me.” He looked at Celina. “Anything for you?”
    “No thanks. I’m on the wagon.”
    “On the wagon—you mean you’re—”
    She nodded. “Confirmed with the doctor yesterday. Three months pregnant.”
    “And I’m just now hearing the news?”
    She lifted her shoulders in a careless shrug, but he noticed the emotion buried beneath the casual action. “We wanted to be sure,” she said.
    Trent drew her into a hug. “You’re going to make a wonderful mother,” he said, and couldn’t halt a pang of sadness at the possibility that his grandfather might live to see Celina’s baby born, but not Lindsey’s. He drew back. “Is Greg excited?”
    She laughed. “He’d better be.”
    That sounded like Celina.
    “Am I overdressed for the party?” She nodded at his shirt.
    Trent looked down, then realized she was referring to his missing jacket. He shook his head. “Phillip is doing a final press job on my jacket.”
    “Ah,” she intoned. “Things weren’t up to snuff for your valet.”
    “Very few things are up to snuff for Phillip.”
    She laughed. “He’s a gem and you wouldn’t make it a day without him.”
    “No,” Trent agreed, “I wouldn’t. But I’d better get back up there.” He glanced at his watch. Seven twenty-five. “Granddad agreed to come down at seven thirty. I have to walk down with him.”
    Celina’s expression sobered. “How is he?”
    “As long as he doesn’t overexert himself, you’d never know he was sick.” But appearances were deceiving. Stage