In McGillivray's Bed by Anne McAllister Read Free Book Online Page B

thing,” she admitted cheerfully. She swallowed the omelette, then took a big bite of the coleslaw and closed her eyes blissfully. “God, it’s good. I’m famished.”
    She dug in, plowing her way through the eggs, the toast, the bacon, the leftover slaw and salad and chicken wings Lisa had fixed. Hugh tried not to watch. She was just a woman eating, for heaven’s sake. Nothing spectacular about that.
    Except that she relished it so much, sighing happily, smacking her lips. Watching her attack a chicken wing was like watching that old movie Tom Jones. Except she was a damned sight sexier than whoever that woman had been playing opposite Albert Finney. And the sexual undercurrents weren’t on the screen, they were in Hugh’s head. He jumped up and paced around the room.
    â€œSomething the matter?” she asked, following him with her gaze.
    â€œNo!” The word came out more as a snap than as a word. “I’m just…making some coffee. Do you want some coffee?”
    â€œThat would be wonderful.”
    He made a pot of coffee. And while he was doing it, he got a grip. He remembered again all the things he needed to say to make sure they both got through the next day or so unscathed. And when it had finished dripping, he poured two mugs and carried them over to the table.
    He set one in front of her and took one to the other side of the table where he sat down opposite her with slow deliberation, intending to make sure she understood how very serious he was.
    She took the coffee gratefully, then started in on the chicken again.
    Hugh averted his gaze. “Rule number one,” he said.
    She looked up, fork halfway to her mouth, which was shaped like an O. She blinked. “Rule what?”
    He set his jaw. “We need some ground rules. So you don’t get any mistaken ideas.”
    â€œSo I don’t…” Her voice trailed off. She put the forkfulof potato salad in her mouth, closed it again, then began to chew slowly as if she were chewing over his words as well as the food. All the while her very blue eyes never left his. He felt his blood pressure going up.
    At last she swallowed. “Right,” she said finally. “Ground rules.” She set down her fork and folded her hands in her lap. “By all means.”
    There was something in her voice—sarcasm?—that made him narrow his gaze. She smiled at him.
    He scowled at her. “I don’t want you getting any ideas.”
    â€œIdeas?” By God, she looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “About what?”
    â€œAbout us,” he bit out.
    â€œUs?” Her eyes grew like saucers.
    â€œYes, us. You and me.” He spelled it out. “On account of what happened before. In there.” He jerked his head toward the bathroom.
    Her brows lifted fractionally. “Oh. I see. When you demonstrated your heterosexuality, you mean?”
    Her expression was perfectly bland, but Hugh knew when someone was having a go at him. His jaw clenched. He had to force himself to unlock it. “Call it whatever you want. The point is, don’t get the idea that I’m interested, because I’m not!”
    She smiled. “Could’ve fooled me,” she said brightly, then picked up her fork again and took a big bite.
    Hugh strangled his own fork to keep from strangling her neck. “I didn’t agree to let you stay here to keep Lisa away only to have you thinking along the same lines!” he informed her flatly.
    Sydney St. John’s eyes bugged. “ That’s the idea you don’t want me getting? You think I want to marry you? My God, I didn’t even want to marry Roland, and he at least had a job to recommend him.”
    Now it was Hugh’s turn to blink. She didn’t think he had a job? Well, fine. Let her think what she wanted.“Right,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to distract you from your headlong dash toward