Wild and Wonderful Read Online Free PDF Page B

perfection." Deliberately he was too lavish in his praise, mocking her vanity.
    "Dad, be serious," she sighed, unable to stay upset by his high-handedness.
    "If you are determined to spoil that fresh clean look, use the powder room to comb your hair and put on some lipstick," he conceded with an indulging smile. "But don't take long. I don't want to miss him."
    After Glenna had made the necessary repairs to her appearance she met her father at the entrance to the lounge. It was just beginning to fill with the happy-hour crowd. Orin Reynolds guided her to a table strategically located to permit him to observe the door. Their drink order was served—a glass of white wine for Glenna and a Perrier with a lime twist for her father. She had taken her first sip of the wine when Jett Coulson entered the lounge alone. She touched her father's arm to draw attention to the man inside the doorway, but it was unnecessary. Orin had already spotted him.
    Those gleaming dark eyes were making a slow inspection of the room, not in search of anyone as far as Glenna could tell, but simply taking note of who was present. Her father stood up, attracting Jett's attention. His gaze narrowed as it touched Glenna, then returned to her father.
    "Mr. Coulson." Without raising his voice from its pleasant pitch, her father succeeded in summoning Jett to their table. "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you formally. My name is Orin Reynolds, of the Reynolds Mine."
    There was a firm clasping of hands as Jett murmured a polite, "How do you do, Mr. Reynolds."
    If her father's name or that of his coal mine, meant anything to Jett, Glenna didn't see any recognition register in his expression. But she was coming to mistrust those hardened features to reveal his inner thoughts.
    "I believe you met my daughter Glenna earlier this afternoon," her father said, by way of acknowledging her presence.
    "Yes, we…bumped into each other." The faint pause carried an inflection of dry amusement as Jett nodded to her. "Hello, again, Miss Reynolds."
    "Hello, Mr. Coulson." There was a husky pitch to her voice, and Glenna wasn't sure exactly where it had come from. She seemed to be holding her breath, too, without knowing why.
    No longer dressed in his tennis clothes, he had changed into a pair of navy slacks and a silk shirt in a subdued blue design against a cream background. The untamed thickness of his hair held a sheen of dampness, prompting Glenna to surmise he had probably showered. She had been so fully prepared to dislike him; now she found herself wondering why she didn't.
    "Sit down," her father invited. "Let me buy you a drink." Then he paused, as if suddenly realizing. "Were you meeting someone?"
    "No." He chose to sit in the empty chair beside Glenna, across the table from her father.
    "What will you have to drink?" Orin signaled to the cocktail waitress.
    "Scotch, neat, on the rocks," Jett ordered and her father passed the information on.
    "Who won your tennis match?" Seated this close, Glenna inhaled the tangy scent of his after-shave with each breath she took. It stimulated her senses, awakening them to his rough brand of masculinity.
    "I did." The reply was neither a boast nor a brag, merely a simple statement of fact.
    "Naturally," she murmured dryly, goaded by the sheer confidence of his statement.
    He turned his head to regard her with those gleaming, but impassive black eyes. "I always play to win."
    "Don't you ever play simply for the fun of competing?" Even as she asked the question she remembered her first conclusion that he could be ruthless.
    "That's the rationale of a loser." A half-smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, taunting her. Then he let his gaze slide back to her father. "I would never have guessed she was your daughter, Mr. Reynolds."
    "Please, call me Orin," her father insisted and cast a smiling glance at her. "No, there isn't much of a resemblance between us. Thankfully, Glenna takes after her mother, God rest her soul. She was a