The Vendetta Read Online Free PDF

scenery disappeared. The windows now reflected the suite’s luxurious interior. A couple of simple, wrought iron chandeliers graced twenty-foot ceilings. The splashes of deep blue and dark red in the rugs and throw pillows complemented the muted beiges of the southwest-meets-ski-lodge decor. A vast sectional sofa took up the space in front of a stone fireplace that held a crackling fire.
    She turned as Nick came back into the room.
    “Here. You can put these on.” He held out a pair of pristine white athletic socks.
    She took the socks from him. “Are you sure? I think I’ll be OK without them.”
    “No, the worst thing in the world is cold feet. I insist.”
    She raised her eyebrows. “The worst thing in the world?”
    She sat down to put them on, but he forestalled her by kneeling in front of her and taking the socks back. Her heart stuttered, and she drew in a deep breath. He smelled wonderful. A hint of his spicy cologne, clean soap, and him. But he had to stop doing that—kneeling like a lovelorn swain.
    “Allow me.” He picked up her foot and placed it on his rock-hard thigh. Her toes curled in response to the strength and heat burning through the sole of her naked foot. He took one of the socks, efficiently gathered it up, and slipped it on. His hands looked very dark in contrast to the white sock and her pale little instep. As he smoothed the band over her calf, she bit her lip against the surge of warmth.
    He performed the same service as quickly and economically on the other foot. When both feet rested side by side on his leg, she met his bright silver gaze, only inches from hers. Her toes were very warm now but her heart pounded, and it was everything she could do not to drop her gaze to his sculpted mouth.
    “You’ve done that before,” she said. She’d meant it to come out as an accusation, but it sounded more like flirtation.
    He grinned, then placed her feet gently on the floor. “Yes,” he said. “I have two feet too.”
    She mentally rolled her eyes. “No, I meant for someone else.”
    He shrugged. “My mother. She’s always cold, even in summer.”
    His mother. Before she could ask more about his mother, he stood with athletic grace and gestured toward the dining room.
    “You were hungry before. You must be starving now,” he said.
    They rounded the corner, and her mouth dropped open.
    She’d heard the wait staff come in while she’d been in the other room, but she hadn’t realized they’d brought a feast. Platters of chicken, steak, and fish vied for space on the small dining table with roasted potatoes, a pile of grilled asparagus, salad, and, of course, spaghetti. There were also oysters, what looked like fried calamari, and breaded zucchini. The two place settings, decorated by cleverly folded napkins, gleamed in the light of a muted chandelier and candles. This was seduction indeed. On a grand scale.
    “Well, Happy Thanksgiving to you too.” She blurted out the words but then, afraid she’d been rude, she turned to Nick. “I’m sorry, lame joke. Do you know Thanksgiving?”
    “Thanksgiving? American holiday. Pilgrims, Plymouth. Yes, I know it.” He frowned. “But Thanksgiving’s not until—”
    A laugh escaped her and he broke off. His mouth lifted at the corner, and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.
    “Ah, I understand,” he said. “Too much for two people?”
    When she nodded, he actually looked sheepish, and the inner chill that had caused her to hunch her shoulders eased. She relaxed, breathing in the warm smell of good food.
    “I wasn’t sure what you would like,” he said, “so I ordered everything.”
    “So I see. Oysters? In Colorado?”
    He grinned. “Hey, they were on the menu.”
    She laughed again.
    He seated her and then poured the wine. She could feel the warmth of his long legs sprawled very close to hers under the table. Their dinner conversation consisted mostly of his questions and her answers. But when she mentioned college, the