Magnolia Dawn by Erica Spindler Read Free Book Online Page A

in mock outrage. “You, sir, are no gentleman.”
    â€œNever claimed to be.”
    â€œOf course not.” She slipped her glove back on and picked up her hammer, as a shudder of fatigue moved across her features.
    Rush touched her arm. “You’re tired, Anna. Why don’t we break for—”
    â€œI don’t need to break.” She shook off his hand. “And seeing as you’re on the clock, I suggest you get back at it, too.”
    â€œNope. It’s after twelve. It’s bloody hot, and I’m tired.” He started toward the ladder. “If you want to stay up here and fry, fine. I’m going to get lunch.”
    Without waiting for her to argue, he descended the ladder and started for the house. Anna watched him go, the desire to follow him warring with pride. Arrogant, she fumed as fatigue won out over pride, and she scooted toward the ladder. He was rude and overconfident. She didn’t like him, she decided. And she certainly wasn’t attracted to him.
    You, Anna, are a liar.
    Anna gritted her teeth. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him. While they worked, she’d found herself watching him: his eyes as he studied the building, his hands as he inspected a crack or break. She found herself waiting, almost breathlessly, for him to look at her, to speak to her.
    As she waited breathlessly for the response both evoked in her—the warm spot at the apex of her thighs that spread until her entire body felt lit by a hidden flame, the trembling sensation in her limbs, the fluttering of her pulse points.
    Anna squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a deep breath. He scared her witless. Because he had the ability to break through all her defenses, leaving her exposed and weak. Because he made her want something that had always been just beyond her reach.
    This was insanity, she told herself, opening her eyes, firming her resolve. She could overcome her feelings. Or ignore them. She’d overcome much tougher obstacles in her life.
    She pulled off her work gloves, tossed them aside and quickly descended the ladder. She found him waiting for her on the front gallery. Ignoring his smug expression, she lifted her chin and moved regally past him to the front door. He followed her, and without speaking they crossed through Ashland’s cavernous interior to the kitchen. Modernized in the space-age-loving late fifties and early sixties, the kitchen was an anachronism in the Civil War-era house.
    â€œI’ll make some sandwiches.”
    â€œNo, you’ll sit with an ice pack and I’ll make sandwiches.” She opened her mouth to protest, and he glared at her. “You’re hurt, you’re exhausted, and I may not be a gentleman, but I’m not a total cad, either.”
    â€œI don’t need—”
    â€œSit,” he ordered, yanking out one of the vinyl-and-chrome chairs.
    She disliked being ordered about in her own home, but the thought of just sitting and doing nothing, even if only for a minute or two, was too inviting. She sank onto the chair, an involuntary sigh of pleasure slipping past her lips.
    â€œGood girl,” he said, going to the freezer for ice. Within moments he’d put together an ice pack and handed it to her.
    Her thumb throbbed. Anna held the ice to it, wincing at the pressure. She leaned her head against the chair back and shut her eyes, waiting for the ice to numb the pain.
    â€œKnow what your problem is?” Rush asked conversationally, laying out eight slices of bread.
    â€œTell me,” she answered dryly, not bothering to open her eyes. “I can hardly wait.”
    â€œYou’re afraid to let go and be a human.”
    â€œA woman, you mean.”
    â€œNo, I didn’t mean that.” He slathered the bread with mayonnaise. “But what’s wrong with being a woman?”
    She peered at him from half-lifted lids. “Nothing. I like being a woman.” He turned back to the sandwiches,