Just the Man She Needs by Gwynne Forster Read Free Book Online Page A

seemingly unperturbed by her outburst as his eyes sparkled. “Is that the way it appears to you? You’re neither as tough nor as combative as you want me to believe. You’re in untried, virgin territory, and it’s making you uneasy. I don’t have a long face right now, because I’m not worried. You’re one hundred percent woman, and all that other stuff you show is no more than a fire cracker shooting at stealth bombers.”
    She didn’t mind if he saw through her veneer; no other man had bothered to look. Still, she refused to make it easy for him. “Don’t be so self-satisfied,” she said.
    He brought her back into the curve of his arm. “I’m not self-satisfied. I’m satisfied with the signals you’re sending me. What’s bothering you, Felicia? Is it your job, your personal life? What?”
    She didn’t answer his question, because she didn’t know the answer. She heard herself telling him something that took shape in her mind as she spoke the words. “I’d like to be somewhere in the midst of a peaceful, quiet oasis, where birds chirped, a brook rushed along and flowers bloomed everywhere. Maybe I’d find out what’s going on between us.”
    “You’re a genuine romantic. I’ll see what I can do to accommodate you.”
    They strolled through the storage house and around the grounds holding hands, and neither seemed aware that they hardly spoke to each other. Felicia remained deep in thought as they went from room to room in the mansion and until she stepped out on the front porch. A vast segment of the Potomac River decorated with shadows created by the late-afternoon sun captured her vision, and a gasp escaped her.
    “It’s so beautiful,” she whispered.
    “Yes,” he said, “but not nearly as beautiful as you.”
    At the tip of her tongue were the words, “Don’t make jokes,” but she looked at him, saw the seriousness of his mien and let the words die unspoken. “Maybe he thinks so,” she said to herself. To him, she said, “Thank you, Ashton. If you think so, I won’t argue about it.”
    “Why should you? There used to be a little café down the road a piece. Would you like some coffee, tea or a cold drink?”
    “Thanks. I’d like some ginger ale.”
    He took her hand and started toward the café. Here I am all lovey-dovey with the most eligible man I’ve ever gone anywhere with, a man who says I’m beautiful, who kissed me silly, and I haven’t fainted. What am I going to tell my editor as to why two days have passed since I handed in my daily column? He is not going to be happy doing reruns on consecutive days.
    “You’ve become pensive,” Ashton said. “What’s the matter?”
    She told him and added, “You’re muddling my brain.”
    He opened the café’s door and walked in behind her. “I hope you don’t think Dream or anything like it has been on my mind since you kissed me as if there was no chance of doing it again. This is new, and so far, it’s…well, it’s wonderful…at least for me. So expect to think about it a lot. If you don’t, it hasn’t made much of an impression.” He found seats, and they sat beside a window, holding hands.
    “I haven’t spent a leisurely weekday afternoon since I was in college,” he told her, “and the strange thing is that I don’t feel guilty right now, that I’m not horsewhipping myself for wasting time. Maybe it’s because I need this as much as I need the solace of success.”
    “You’re your own boss, Ashton. I’m not. At contract time, I tell my editor that my column sells papers, so I have to produce. Besides, I feel a responsibility to my readers and to myself.”
    “All of which is commendable, but I don’t think that’s the problem right now. Level with me, Felicia. Aren’t you afraid this is getting away from you, that you can’t control your feelings? Well, I wasn’t looking for it, but I certainly am not going to run from it. Give us a chance.”
    It didn’t make sense to feel as she did about a