Petals on the Pillow by Eileen Rendahl Read Free Book Online Page A

way you ducked out after din ner last night, I was afraid you’d be trying to catch the early morning ferry back to Seattle.”
    “Nah.” Kelly tilted her head to peer into Betsy’s face. “It takes more than an incredibly boring dinner to scare me away. Besides the food was too darn good to leave without trying it again.”
    “Hmmph,” Mrs. Jenkins snorted over at the stove where she stirred the bubbling pot. “As if you’d know from what little you ate.”
    Betsy giggled behind her hand. “It was awesomely boring, wasn’t it?”
    “Totally,” Kelly agreed. “But let’s move on. Let’s talk about this mural you want painted, patron. Do you want Cinderella to look like you? Who do you want the prince to look like? Leonardo DiCaprio maybe? Or how about Luke Perry? I like to think about these things as I prep the support. It kind of gets my juices going.”
    The smile faded from Betsy’s face. She picked at an unrav eling thread along the cuff of her sweater. “Whatever you want.”
    “But it’s your mural. I want your input,” Kelly encouraged.
    Betsy just shrugged.
    “Seriously, I need to know who to model the people in the mural after and then we can start looking at costumes.”
    Betsy just stared at her hands.
    “Betsy. What is it? What’s wrong?”
    “I hate Cinderella,” Betsy finally burst out. “She was such a total geek. She just ran around and did whatever they told her to. She never stood up for herself or anything. She’d still be hanging out with those stupid mice if it wasn’t for the Prince. What a loser!”
    “If you feel that way, why on earth do you want an entire wall of your bedroom done as a Cinderella mural?” Kelly asked.
    “I don’t,” the child wailed. “I said I wanted a painting or something on the wall. I was just talking to Dad about it and then old Kendra Kill-Joy butted in and ruined everything.”
    Mrs. Jenkins was by Betsy’s side in an instant. A tissue appeared from one of the many pockets in her voluminous apron and she dabbed at the tears that had started to leak out of Betsy’s bright green eyes. “There, there, child. Calm yourself. And for pity’s sake, stop calling Miss Campbell names. No mat ter how you feel about her, she’s been a godsend to your father. I don’t know where he’d be without her.”
    “Wait a minute,” Kelly interrupted. “Slow down. I don’t get it.
    “It’s all just a stupid mistake. You shouldn’t be here at all.” Betsy sniffled. “I thought if I asked for something really outra geous, you know, like hiring an artist to paint a wall of my room that Dad would ... well, that he’d ”
    “That Dad would what?” Harrison St. John asked from the doorway to the kitchen. He sauntered in, completely oblivious to the undertones in the conversation he was interrupting, and poured himself a cup of coffee. He wore what Kelly already thought of as his Corporate Captain clothes. This morning it was a navy blue suit instead of yesterday’s understated charcoal gray. Like yesterday’s suit and last night’s tuxedo, it too had clearly been tailored by an experienced and expert hand, framing his broad shoulders and then draping to his lean hips. He wore it with the ease that most men reserved for jeans and sweatshirts.
    In an unspoken alliance to shield Betsy from her father’s piercing gaze, Mrs. Jenkins and Kelly moved to block her from his line of sight, but it really wasn’t necessary. Harrison’s eyes sought out Kelly’s from across the room, not Betsy’s. She raised her eyes to his and for an instant, she saw a flicker of that other man, the one she’d met on the terrace last night, the one who seemed to lurk behind the business facade, as he turned his head a fraction of an inch and gave her that slightly crooked and way too sexy smile.
    “Good morning, Mr. St. John,” Kelly said wishing formality could make her forget how close she’d come to kissing him the night before. The memory made her blush a little.