The Wedding Date Read Online Free PDF

sharp shake.
    As she moved, Hannah’s voluminous blanket—which turned out to be some kind of poncho—shifted, revealing that in lieu of her usual filmy, elegant work number she wore dark skinny jeans tucked into cowboy boots, and a fitted black and red striped, long-sleeved top. Truly fitted. Giving him glimpses of the kind of gentle curves that her filmy, floaty, elegant work numbers had clearly never made the most of.
    Curves he’d glimpsed naked, with no embellishment. Curves he could almost feel beneath his hands.
    Gritting his teeth, Bradley leant his backside against the edge of the couch and waited. And watched. With the early-morning sun streaming through the old window behind her she looked so young, so fresh. Her nose was pink in the morning cold, her cheeks even pinker. Her lips were naturally the colour of a dark rose. She had a smattering of freckles across her nose he’d never before noticed. And her usually neat, professional hair was kinky and shaggy, as if she’d come from a day at the beach. As if she’d just rolled out of bed.
    She glanced up to find him staring. After a beat she smiled in apology. ‘Two seconds. I promise.’
    He cleared his throat. ‘If I didn’t know better I’d think you were purposely delaying getting moving.’
    She blinked at him, several times, super-fast. Then shook her head so quickly he wondered if his sorry excuse for a joke had actually hit its mark. But he knew so little about her outside of how well she did her job he couldn’t be sure.
    ‘Sonja is clueless about paying bills,’ she went on. ‘It’s too cold a winter for me to risk her getting the heating cut off—even though I can think of a dozen reasons why she might deserve it.’
    He found himself stepping over a line he didn’t usually breach as he asked, ‘Why do I get the feeling there’s some other reason you’re avoiding heading out that door?’
    ‘I—’ She swallowed. Then looked him dead in the eye for several long seconds before offering a slight shrug and saying, ‘It’s not that I don’t want to go back home. I love that island more than anything. I’m just bracing myself for what I am about to encounter when I step across the Gatehouse threshold.’
    ‘The Gatehouse?’
    ‘The hotel.’
    ‘Regretting your choice?’
    That earned him a glance from pale green eyes that could cut glass. ‘You truly think Iwould organise for my only sister to get married in some
dive?’
    ‘I guess it depends if you like your only sister. How long did you say it’s been since you’ve seen her?’
    Her cheeks turned pinker still: a bright, warm, enchanting pink as blood rushed to her face. But she chose to ignore his insinuation. ‘The Gatehouse, I’ll have you know, is a slice of pure heaven. Like a Swiss chalet, tucked into a forest of snow-dappled gumtrees. A mere short hike to the stunning Cradle Mountain. A hundred beautiful rooms, six gloriously decadent restaurants, a fabulous nightclub, a cinema, a state-of-the-art gym. And don’t even get me started on the suites.’
    Her eyes drifted shut and she shuddered. No, it was more like a tremble. It started at her shoulders and shimmied down her form, finishing up at her boot-clad feet, one of which had lifted to tuck in tight behind her opposite calf.
    Sensation prickled down his arms, across his abdomen, between his thighs. He could do nothing but stand there, grit his teeth, and hope to high heaven she’d soon be done and he could get away from this crazy pink boudoir before it fried any more of his brain cells.
    Hell.
Who was this woman, and where had she put his trusty assistant?
    If it were not for those wide, wide, frankpale green eyes that looked right into his, not the tiniest bit intimidated by his infamy, bull-headedness or insularity, he’d be wondering if he was in the right apartment.
    That would teach him to try and do something nice for somebody else. Another lesson learnt.
    Her foot slid down her calf, and as though