Mr. Miracle (Harlequin Super Romance) by Carolyn McSparren Read Free Book Online Page A

up in the bed and I’m piled up on the couch.”
    “Oh, Albert! You need me to come see about you?”
    “No! You stay as far away from us as you can and you start taking some zinc right this minute. Maybe you won’t get it.”
    “Obviously you’re not coming in today,” Vic said.
    Albert groaned in reply.
    “Have you called the doctor?”
    “Doctor says it’s a virus. It takes three or four days. I got fever, Vic. Grown men don’t get fever.”
    “You sound like Linette did it on purpose.” Vic laughed. “Look after yourself and don’t worry about me.”
    “I’ll call Kenny and get him to come by after school to help out,” Albert said.
    Vic caught her breath. “That won’t be necessary. I, uh...I’m managing just fine.”
    “You sure?”
    “Absolutely.”
    His reply was a fit of coughing and a strangled “Bye.” She felt guilty to think of Albert’s flu as a stroke of luck, but now she wouldn’t have to explain Jamey McLachlan to him for at least another couple of days. By then she’d have better evidence that the man was not a serial killer. She knew darn well Albert’s nephew Kenny would go snitch about Jamey to Albert if she let the boy within a hundred yards of ValleyCrest. And Albert would coming racing over, fever or no, to check the man out.
    This time she made it to the center hall before the telephone rang again. “Botheration!” she said, and picked up the portable from the wash rack.
    “Miz Jamerson?”
    She sighed. “Yes, Mr. Wilcox. What is it now?”
    “Can you come up to the house? I need a decision on where to place these electrical outlets in the bathrooms.”
    “How should I know? Put ’em where you think they should go.”
    “Not my place to do that. I can’t go on until you come see.”
    She’d been watching Jamey exercise the gray mare in the ring as she talked. The mare usually hated work, but today she seemed relaxed and almost enjoying herself. He definitely did have a way with horses. She noticed, however, that his gloved right hand grasped the right rein loosely, and that his left compensated in a complicated crossover hold. Workmanlike, but hardly delicate.
    But he rode with a fluid grace that seemed to make him part of the horse. The mare responded to the slightest tilt of his slim hips.
    The man was too damned attractive for his own good. She could think of half a dozen wealthy women who would be willing to set him up in business just for the sake of his companionship after hours.
    Good thing she didn’t have enough money to tempt him.
    “I’ve got to go up to the house to deal with the contractor,” she called to him. He glanced over, nodded and continued to work the mare.
    “Gee,” she whispered. “Sure is nice to be missed.”
     
    HALF AN HOUR LATER the mare relaxed in the paddock farthest from the stallion, and Jamey sat atop a tall, lopeared Thoroughbred gelding that reminded him of that cartoon buzzard—sort of a good-natured klutz.
    As he lolloped around the end of the ring, he saw a figure emerge from the stable. For a moment he thought it was Vic, then realized this woman had short curly hair and carried her right arm in a sling. He pulled his horse down to a walk.
    She was staring at him with her mouth open. “And whose little boy are you? ” she asked.
    “Name’s Jamey McLachlan,” he said, and stopped. “You’d be the exercise rider with the broken wing.”
    “Angie Womack, yeah. Trust Fund’s momma.”
    “Fine animal. Opinionated.”
    Angie giggled. “You might say. Where’s Vic?”
    “Dealing with a contractor.” He swung off the horse.
    “Don’t let me stop you. Where on earth did you materialize from?”
    “I’m a fortuitous Scottish saddle burn come to rescue the damsel in distress.”
    “And just my size,” Angie said. “My, my, if I weren’t married... Oh, well.”
    She followed Jamey to the wash rack and leaned against the wall while he took the tack off the horse. Then she picked up a brush and began to