Another Woman's Man by Shelly Ellis Read Free Book Online

Big Ben’s glass door, stepping aside for a couple who had walked into the tea shop.
    â€œWhy not next weekend?” her father asked.
    â€œWhy not what next weekend?” Dawn answered distractedly. She tugged on her calfskin gloves then buttoned her coat. She pulled out her cell phone.
    â€œYou should come to Windhill Downs!”
    She looked up from the messages on her phone screen. “What’s Windhill Downs?”
    â€œMy property . . . my estate . . . that’s what we call it. You should come there! In fact, why don’t you come next weekend and have dinner with the rest of the family? We throw a Christmas Eve bash every year, but we try to also have an intimate dinner—family only—the night before that.”
    Dawn stopped midmotion. Her slender fingers hovered over her phone. She gaped. “An intimate dinner? ” she choked. “Next . . . next weekend?”
    He nodded eagerly.
    Oh, hell, Dawn thought. It was one thing agreeing to meet her long-lost father. It was a completely different matter having dinner with her father, stepmother, and sister at “Windhill Downs.” Shouldn’t she be slowly eased into this? She wasn’t sure if she was ready to take on the whole family right now.
    Dawn stared down at her father, trying to find a delicate way to decline his invitation.
    â€œI’d be honored to have you there, sweetheart,” he said softly.
    Dawn grimaced. Damn it, she thought. How could she possibly say no?
    â€œSure, uh . . . give me the address and the time and I’ll be there.”
    â€œWonderful!” her father exclaimed.
    Dawn lowered her phone back into her purse. She wished she could be equally excited. She wondered what her sisters would think when she told them about this one.

Chapter 5
    â€œN ow, we can hold the wedding ceremony here,” Cynthia Gibbons said as she pointed to the front hall and walked swiftly across the marble-tiled floor. Her voice and the sound of her high heels echoed off the front hall’s coffered ceilings and forest green walls. “Mama, you can enter the ceremony this way, down the left wing staircase. It would definitely be dramatic.”
    â€œIt would, wouldn’t it?” Yolanda said before turning to the squat man who stood beside her. Her arm was looped through his. “What do you think, honey? Does the staircase sound nice?”
    A smile creased his dark, bulldog-like face as he warmly patted Yolanda’s hand. “Whatever you want, baby.”
    Whatever you want, baby .... Those seemed to be the only words that came out of Reginald Whitfield’s mouth since Cynthia started giving him and her mother the grand tour of the recently restored historic mansion, Glenn Dale. Cynthia had spearheaded the renovation of the mansion herself as head of the historic preservation association in Chesterton. Yolanda and Reginald planned to hold their nuptials there in March. Reginald didn’t seem to have any opinions on the venue, the ceremony, the reception, or the décor. He was leaving all the decision making to Yolanda.
    Which is just as well, Cynthia thought wryly. Her mother was marrying him for his willingness to write checks, not for his opinions.
    â€œAnother thing you two may want to consider is where you’ll hold the cocktail hour for the reception,” Cynthia said as she walked across the front hall and pointed to the adjacent rooms. “You can hold it either in the front parlor or one of the sitting rooms.”
    â€œHmm, I don’t know.” Yolanda turned to Reginald expectantly again. “Any preference, sweetheart? One of the sitting rooms or the parlor?”
    Yolanda was in her mid-sixties, but she looked several years younger and was still a very beautiful woman. Her salt-and-pepper hair was upswept today, though soft curls fell around her face. She wore a trim tan Michael Kors suit and a simple string of pearls.
    Reginald looked out of place