The Thawing of Mara Read Online Free PDF Page B

response was merely polite words, a murmured reply to be taken at face value.
    It drew a low chuckle from Sinclair Buchanan that earned him a playful slap of reprimand from the redhead. Celene's "talents" were obviously a private and intimate joke between them, and Mara wanted no further part in it. Turning quietly, she walked into the kitchen.
    The cottage was too small for her not to hear the murmuring of their voices as the couple wandered from the living room to the bedroom. She tried to drown out the sound with the whir of the electric can opener on the can of coffee.
    Pouring a portion of the grounds into the coffee canister, she set the rest inside the cupboard. She had just lifted the bag of flour out of the grocery bag when the two entered the kitchen.
    "This is your province, Sin. I'll leave you to inspect it," the red-haired Celene declared. "There's something I want to get from the car. I'll only be a moment."
    As the woman departed, Mara was conscious of Sin Buchanan remaining in the kitchen. She opened the flap of the flour bag and reached for the canister. As she emptied the flour into it, she was aware of his movements, checking the appliances and the cupboards. His silvered gray hair was like a beacon.
    "I bought everything you had on the list," Mara informed him as she pushed the canister into its position with the rest of the set, "I hope you won't have difficulty finding anything."
    "I doubt it," he replied. "Everything appears well organized." It was an observation rather than a compliment.
    The dumping of the bag had left a fine film of flour dust on the counter, and Mara dampened a dishcloth to wipe it away. While she finished up in the kitchen, her new tenant wandered back into the living room. His return coincided with the entrance of Celene. There was nothing to keep their voices from carrying into the kitchen.
    "I found the wineglasses, so I brought in the champagne to toast the new cottage," Celene's voice announced in husky invitation. "The ice cooler chilled it to perfection. Here, open it, Sin."
    An assortment of spices and herbs was at the bottom of the grocery bag. Mara tried to remain deaf to the conversation in the adjoining room as she began arranging the bottles on the spice rack.
    "Don't you want to leave the celebrating until later?" The pop of the champagne cork made his question insignificant.
    But Celene answered it anyway. "No, I want to start now." Her voice was a throaty purr. "This is the first weekend I've ever had you all to myself. No phone calls, no business, no interruptions." The last negative was emphatically stressed. Celene proposed the toast, "To our first weekend alone."
    It was followed by the clinking of crystal and then silence. An inner voice seemed to order Mara to keep quiet and not betray her presence in the cottage, but she refused to obey it. The bottles thudded onto the spice shelf with the same regularity.
    "Mmmm, you know what let's do tonight, darling," Celene answered her own question without giving Sin a chance to respond. "Build a roaring fire in the fireplace. Then we'll lie down in front of it and…" The rest of her suggestion was made in a whisper.
    Mara's stomach knotted into a tight ball of nerves. The entire situation was making her irritated and on edge. A can of dried parsley flakes was the last item in the grocery bag. She shoved it quickly into place and folded up the paper bag, stowing it beneath the sink.
    In the opening to the living room, Mara hesitated. The couple were in front of the fireplace, locked in a kiss. Celene's arms were wound around Sin's neck while she still managed to hold the champagne glass. One of his hands was on her rib cage, almost cupping her breast. His other arm was pressed against the small of her back, arching the redhead to his muscled body. That hand held his glass. Neither had apparently spilled any champagne in the process since there was liquid in each of the glasses.
    Mara started to retreat into the kitchen