Love Is Lovelier by Jean Brashear Read Free Book Online Page A

comply.
    “Oh, and—”
    The boy turned back. “Don’t tell me. More hush puppies.”
    “You take good care of me, Jerome.”
    “Granny would still be cooking for that nursing home without you—”
    Anne realized that William was shaking his head in an effort to forestall him.
    The boy frowned. Cut a glance at her.
    “Why don’t you sit down, Jerome. Tell me more.”
    His gaze shifted to William. “Well, ma’am, see, I’d better be gettin’ back now. Granny might skin me.”
    His obvious discomfort at being caught between his hero and her forced a laugh from her. “I understand. I’ll just work on Mr. Armstrong here, instead.”
    Relief blossomed on his features. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll just be gettin’ those napkins for you. And that corn.” He made a quick escape.
    She wiped her fingers on the remaining napkin. “So you’re Granny’s angel, William?”
    To her surprise, he seemed uncomfortable, something she’d never witnessed in this very urbane man. “There’s nothing to tell, really.”
    “Oh, I suspect there is.” She studied him as he focused on something of great interest on the tabletop.
    She couldn’t help laughing. “You’re a fraud, William Armstrong. The big, bad empire builder is a softie underneath all that swashbuckling.”
    Now he was blushing. And she was delighted with him.
    He caught her gaze, and the warmth in his sent an answering ripple through her. “Anne.” Layers of meaning, worlds of possibility threaded his tone.
    Mon Dieu . She wanted to fan herself. Had a strong urge to run from all that he frothed up inside her whenshe’d thought what was left to her were years of, at best, peace. Acceptance that she was now only a mother…a grandmother…
    Never again a woman in that ripe, delicious, best sense of the word.
    Why, oh why, did the man who stirred up her juices have to be Remy’s old rival?
    She leaped to her feet. “I’m going to get my own corn.”
    He did a double-take. “What? Jerome will be right back.”
    Of course he would. But she needed to escape. Order her thoughts, away from William’s overwhelming presence.
    “I want to meet Miss Celia.” Without another second’s pause, she made her way toward the kitchen.
     
    W ILLIAM WATCHED HER GO , too bemused to sort out what in blazes had just happened. One second, she was teasing him, the next, her hazel eyes had gone dark with what he’d stake his fortune was a passion that was a match for his own…then she’d jumped up and—
    A smile she’d very likely term a swashbuckler’s slowly curved his lips.
    Go meet Miss Celia, indeed.
    Anne was running scared.
    Which meant he was making progress.
    Just then, Jerome emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of corn on the cob, a fistful of napkins and a very flustered expression.
    William rose to his feet and waved him closer.
    “Mr. Armstrong, I— That lady—” The boy brandished his burden. “The corn will be cold, and—”
    William scanned the small dining room. Spotted a mother with two strapping sons. “Leave some of the napkins here, take the corn to them with my compliments and put it on my tab.” He stepped around Jerome.
    “But what will you do, sir?”
    William nodded in the direction Jerome had just left. “Why, I’m going to the kitchen, son.” With a clap on the boy’s back, he left the befuddled young man behind.
    Before he entered, though, he paused in front of the small window in the swinging door. Celia was a good woman, but a tyrant in her kitchen. She had endless patience with her food and her grandson, but little for anyone else. William thought it prudent to scout the territory first and determine if Anne required rescuing from a woman he’d seen freeze a burly deliveryman in place with only a scowl. She most emphatically did not like being interrupted while she was cooking.
    He should have known, he thought as he peered inside. Anne had once again wielded her magic. Where he’d expected thunder, she’d apparently not only