Love by Proxy by Diana Palmer Read Free Book Online Page B

have terrible hay fever. I wouldn’t dream of inflicting pollen on them. They’ve been good to me.”
    “Your landlords, I gather?”
    She nodded. “They were trying to live on their retirement pension, without much success, so they gave in to necessity and rented their garage apartment. I applied, and I guess they thought I was harmless. I’ve lived there ever since I’ve been in Chicago.”
    “It’s tidy,” he said.
    “It’s tiny,” she corrected, laughing. “But I can walk to the beach on weekends.”
    “I imagine you miss the coast?” he asked.
    She nodded. “I miss shelling and sitting on the beach and watching the Atlantic in full storm,” she said softly, her eyes brimming with excitement. “You can see whitecaps to the horizon. It’s noisy and wet, and the wind rips into your hair like a comb, stinging your eyes.” She drew in a breath. “I miss it.”
    He was watching her, toying with his silverware. “Yes,” he said absently, “you do seem the kind of woman who’d risk a hurricane to stand on a deserted beach. I imagine you like to stand out in electrical storms as well.”
    She laughed self-consciously. “Granddad says I’m an elemental person. So is he. Not foolhardy, exactly, just adventurous.”
    “And passionate,” he added, holding her eyes. “Ten to one you’re a fire sign.”
    “If you mean astrology, I’m Capricorn.”
    He laughed softly. “Freedom-loving, adventurous, outdoorsy, passionate.”
    “How did you know?”
    “I’m Capricorn myself.”
    “I’d have guessed Leo.”
    He shook his head. “I was a Christmas child. My birthday is Christmas eve. When’s yours?”
    “The day after yours. I was a Christmas present.”
    He laughed. “Ironic.”
    “I’d rather be a May baby,” she said with a sigh. “I like emeralds.”
    “But turquoise would suit you better,” he remarked. “It’s the old December birthstone. I prefer it.”
    She glanced at his hands. They were big and darkly tanned, and rippling with strength. He wore only one ring—a huge silver one with a square turquoise setting—on the little finger of his right hand.
    “I hadn’t noticed before,” she said.
    He glanced at her own hands. “You don’t wear jewelry at all,” he said, and seemed surprised.
    “I have a class ring, but I never wear it. I’m too careless. I lose things.”
    The waiter came with menus, and Amelia chose a steak and salad. So did he.
    “Protein,” he said. “I like red meat.”
    “Raw red meat, judging by the way you’re having it cooked,” she laughed.
    He leaned forward. “It’s hard to get a tough rare steak, didn’t you know? Some of the better-cooked cuts bounce.”
    So he wasn’t such a stuffed shirt as she’d thought. All through the meal, he was courteous, attentive and interesting to talk to. He explained the notes he’d had her take, and the preliminary steps that construction required. He answered her questions and satisfied her curiosity. And she was reluctant to see their excursion end. It had been unexpectedly pleasant.
    His grandmother was waiting in the living room when they got back.
    “So there you are.” She glared at Wentworth from the sofa, where she was lounging in a breezy pantsuit. “Absconding with my new companion on her first day, working her to death so she’ll quit!”
    “We agreed,” he reminded her with a grin and a quick kiss on her smooth forehead. “She’s all yours now.” He glanced at Amelia, who had collapsed into a big armchair and was debating whether or not she could get away with taking off her shoes. “I’ll need those notes tomorrow morning.”
    “Oh! Your trustees’ meeting!” she exclaimed suddenly.
    “Damn!” he burst out. “I forgot all about it. I’d better call.”
    He left the room and Jeanette Carson laughed delightfully. “That’s a first,” she told Amelia in a conspiratorial whisper. “He never forgets meetings. What did you do to him?”
    “I asked him how to build things,”