Her Foreign Affair by Shea Mcmaster Read Free Book Online Page B

can do to help?” Jordan asked. Just to be polite, she was sure, since his eyes seemed to be glued to her cleavage, such as it was hidden behind her apron, or not, as she stood bent over giving him pretty much a full view.
    With a sigh, she straightened. “Thanks, but I’ve got more help than I need right now. Holler if this runs out. There’s more coming.”
    Jordan’s eyes cut from her cleavage to the kitchen where Court rattled ice into the stainless steel bucket. With a smooth movement, Jordan levered himself off the plush leather sofa and rose to tower over her. “I could do with a coffee refill.”
    She reached for the mug, but Jordan lifted it out of her reach. There were times tall people were truly irritating. Like when they weren’t being useful as human ladders.
    “I can get it for you,” she offered.
    “No need for you to wait on me all day. I can get my own refills.” The smile he gave her was soft and warm, but it didn’t do a blessed thing to stir up the pitter patter in her heart. Damn Court.
    “Suit yourself. I think there’s enough for one more cup, and then I’ll put on a fresh pot.”
    “How’s your coffee?” Jordan followed her into the kitchen. “Don’t you get first dibs on refills?”
    Now, that made her laugh. Her cup was ice cold by now. “I’m fine. One more round of coffee, and then we’ll break out some wine.” She waved toward Court and the champagne. “We have the first bottle on ice.”
    “And a back-up in the freezer,” Court said. “Don’t worry, I’ll remember to pull it out.” The way his eyes twinkled brought back the memory of the first time she’d stuck a couple beers in her tiny freezer against his advice. They’d been too busy to remember they were there, and the next morning, she’d opened the fridge looking for orange juice, only to find frozen beer sprayed all over the inside.
    With a glare in Court’s direction, hoping the flush rushing to her cheeks could be attributed to the ovens, she picked up the coffee pot and put a hand to it. “It’s cold. Let me make fresh, and then I’ll bring your cup out,” she told Jordan. Two men hovering in her kitchen strained her ability to deal with life at the moment. One had to leave, and Court had found a task to keep him busy.
    “No worries, I’ll sit here, halfway between the kitchen and the game.” Jordan gave her a wide smile and settled down at the breakfast bar where Court had sat earlier. He could put his back to the wall and keep an eye on the game and the kitchen at the same time through the arched opening.
    She wanted nothing more than to scream at them all to go watch the game. Instead, she bit her lip and concentrated on rinsing out the coffee pot and going through the motions of setting up a fresh one.
    Damn if Court didn’t sidle up to her again.
    “Got hot pads handy? The hors d’oeuvres look nearly done.”
    “Hanging on the front of the oven door,” she muttered.
    Court’s body brushed up against her side as he turned just far enough to look over his shoulder. “What do you know? So they are. Cheeky little buggers, hiding out in plain sight.”
    “Imagine that. American ingenuity triumphs again.”
    Court chuckled and discreetly ran a hand down her back, settling at the base a mere second, long enough for her body to remember, to long for, to melt under the memory of his touch from so long ago, and yet, it felt as if it had been only yesterday.
    No touching. Had to stop him from touching.
    “Mom?” Birdie clattered into the kitchen. Court’s hand dropped away. “Want us to fill the water glasses now?”
    “You have the crystal on the table already?” How had she missed that?
    “Everything’s set, Mom, except for the water, wine, food, and people.”
    Randi peeked through the doorway to the dining room. Birdie had even placed the flowers in the center of the table and serving utensils on the sideboard. Everything sparkled. “Good job. Looks beautiful. No, no need to worry