The Thawing of Mara Read Online Free PDF

couldn't tell by his expression whether he was disappointed by what he saw or not, but she felt she should offer some excuse for the starkness of the room. "As Mr. Bennett told you, the cottage isn't completely furnished. If you wish, I—"
    "No, I'll see to the rest of it myself." He refused her offer to finish decorating the place before she had had a chance to complete it. "Is the fireplace usable?"
    "Yes. The chimney has been swept and the flues checked," she assured him. "As a matter of fact, Mr. Bennett and I had a fire going in it just a few weeks ago to be certain there was no problem."
    The touch of his gaze gave her the impression that he had put a romantic connotation on her elaboration. In actual fact, there had been workers around finishing up the repairs, but she felt no compulsion to explain further.
    "What about firewood?" he questioned.
    "There's some wood stacked behind the cottage. You're welcome to gather the deadfall in the woods, but not to cut down any trees," she told him.
    Instantly she visualized him stripped to the waist against a backdrop of woods, splitting logs for the fireplace. She could even picture the sheen of perspiration glistening over the powerful muscles of his arms and chest. The image prompted a sudden surge of life to throb through her veins, which unnerved her because she couldn't control it.
    In unconscious self-defense, she turned away from him to break the crazy spell. As she did, the redhead walked through the open door. Mara smiled as if it had been her intention all along to greet the woman just entering the cottage, but the woman didn't even glance at her.
    The redhead's brown eyes were alight with excitement as she made an inspecting circle of the living room. When she came to a stop beside Sinclair Buchanan, her expression was alive with delight and anticipation. She circled one of his arms with both of hers and hugged him.
    "It's charming, Sin," she declared. "So rustic and quaint! Can't you picture an old sofa in front of the fireplace? We'll have such fun decorating this place."
    His look was indulgent, as if faintly amused, as he gazed at the upturned face of the woman. Fiery clouds of scarlet hair fell loosely around her shoulders. Mara was beginning to feel superfluous.
    "Be honest, Celene. You're just looking forward to spending my money." His tone fell halfway between teasing and taunting, as large a difference as between love and cruelty. His true attitude was a matter of interpretation.
    With a mock pout, the woman named Celene chose the first interpretation. Mara wasn't in a position to argue with the decision. Celene was obviously better acquainted with this man's moods and meaning than she was.
    "You know that isn't true, Sin," the redhead denied. "I enjoy spending anybody's money." She laughed. "I pride myself on being totally impartial. Come on, let's see the rest of the cottage."
    Before replying, his gaze swung to Mara. There was something prompting in his look. Mara didn't know what it was that he wanted, so she left it up to him to explain.
    "Shall I show you through the cottage or would you prefer to explore on your own?" she inquired.
    "We'll find our way around. I don't think we'll get lost," he assured her in a dry voice.
    "I should hope not!" Celene laughed at the comment that Mara had found more cutting than amusing.
    "If you'll excuse me," she murmured coolly, "I'll finish putting the groceries away." She paused to glance at the redhead. "Unless you would prefer to do—"
    "Please go ahead, Miss Prentiss." It was Sinclair Buchanan who answered. Mara couldn't help wondering if he made a habit of interrupting. His gaze slid down to the woman on his arm. "Celene is helpless—or should I say hopeless—in the kitchen."
    The woman smiled at the taunting observation. "Sin knows me," she sighed, and turned her soft brown eyes on Mara. "But then I've never claimed that my talents were in that area."
    "I'm sure you're very good at whatever you do." Mara's