Husband in Red by Cara Colter

Author:Cara Colter [Colter, Cara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Family Life, General, Women
ISBN: 9781459273030
Google: isuaS5DWdRMC
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2011-07-14T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Six

“Did you wake me up?” Sadie repeated Kevin’s question, a ploy to buy time. “Not really.”

Sadie was a woman who prided herself on scrupulous honesty, but she told herself this was not precisely a lie. It was not the ringing of the phone that had woken her, it was Michael’s gruff “Yeah?” at such alarmingly close proximity that had made her abruptly shake off sleep.

His voice, sleep roughened like that, had a texture to it that was as alarming as his proximity. Sexy was the only word that had entered her sleep-befuddled brain.

“No, I know. I’m not usually a morning person. But you know. Three kids.” Another vague statement that wouldn’t quite qualify as a lie.

At that moment, Michael shifted on the bed beside her and the springs squeaked outrageously. Had he moved just a hair closer? Wasn’t it ridiculous that she suddenly wondered what her own hair looked like?

Pretend this is not happening, she ordered herself tersely.

How did you ignore six foot one inches of potently virile male? If she closed her eyes maybe she could pretend this was all a bad dream, at least until she hung up from Kevin.

She closed her eyes. It had the unfortunate effect of making her more aware of Michael’s scent.

Which was soapy and clean and spicy and as sexy as his voice growling “yeah” first thing in the morning. Baking bread had just moved into second place on her list of lovely smells.

She opened her eyes and glared pointedly at him. He smiled back at her with choirboy innocence, as if he was as shocked and surprised as she was to find himself in her bed.

She waved her hand at him, a universally accepted gesture for go away. But if she thought he would have the decency to get out of bed and let her have her conversation in private she was one hundred percent wrong. With deliberate misunderstanding he waved back at her, then stretched out, folded his hands comfortably behind his head and closed his eyes, apparently lost in enjoyment of the earlymorning sunlight on his face.

He did look incredibly handsome in the early-morning light. The faintest shadow of whiskers defined his bone structure, making him look dangerously rugged and appealing, like an old-time pirate.

She twisted, turning her back to him. There she thought, as if she was a dieter who had just won a battle over a chocolate éclair.

“What?” she asked Kevin. “I missed that. My brother home? Of course not. Who? Oh, that’s not my brother. It’s just the neighbor.” She tried to imbue the word neighbor with all sorts of meaning—a doddering little old man arriving with his rake in one hand and a casserole in the other. It was a tall order to put that much into one word, and Meryl Streep she wasn’t. She could tell by Kevin’s tone she’d failed to defuse the threat. He knew that voice didn’t belong to an old man with a rake and a casserole.

“He told you he was Mickey? I’m sure you misunderstood.

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