Printer in Petticoats by Lynna Banning Read Free Book Online

put it in boldface type.
    Wasn’t Mr. Sanders livid with fury?
    She couldn’t stand the suspense. She grabbed her heavy wool coat and knitted green scarf off the hook by the door.
    â€œHey, Jess,” Eli yelled. “Where are ya...?” She blotted out his voice and sped down the frost-slick sidewalk.
    Then her steps slowed. Drat. If Cole stopped at the Golden Partridge she couldn’t follow him. No lady entered a saloon.
    But he strode past the Golden Partridge and entered the restaurant nearby. Thank the Lord. She could unobtrusively steal inside, sit in one corner sipping a cup of tea and watch his face while he read her editorial.
    She tiptoed inside the deserted restaurant, shed her coat and scarf and hung them on the maple coat tree in the corner. “Hot tea, please, Rita,” she whispered.
    Cole sat with his back to her, calmly sipping a mug of steaming coffee. But he wasn’t reading her newspaper. He was gazing out the front window. And humming! She recognized the tune, “The Blue-Tail Fly.”
    Rita brought her a ceramic pot of tea, plunked it down and tipped her gray-bunned head toward the front table. “Kinda odd, you two settin’ in the same room but not havin’ breakfast together.”
    â€œOh, Mr. Sanders and I are not together.”
    The waitress blinked. “No? Shoot, I thought—”
    â€œSure we’re together,” Cole said without turning around.
    Jess jumped. The man must have ears like a foxhound.
    â€œYou misspelled larcenous ,” he called.
    â€œWhat? I thought you hadn’t read my editorial yet.”
    He maneuvered his chair around to face her. “Oh, I’ve read it all right. Like I said, you misspelled—”
    â€œI heard you the first time,” she retorted.
    â€œNever figured you for a sloppy writer, Miss Lassiter.”
    â€œI never figured you for a schoolmarm, Mr. Sanders.”
    â€œPoint taken.” He rose and came across the room to her table. “Scrambled eggs?”
    â€œNo, thank you. I am having tea.”
    â€œRita, scramble up some eggs for me and the lady. Add some bacon, too.”
    Rita bobbed her head, hid a smile and disappeared into the kitchen.
    â€œCold out this morning,” Cole said amiably.
    â€œVery.” Jess fiddled with her napkin, refolded it into a square, then shook it out and folded it again. “Very well, how do you spell larcenous ?”
    â€œHell, I don’t know. Got your attention, though, didn’t it?”
    She bit her lip. “It most certainly did. Are you always so underhanded?”
    â€œNope. Hardly ever, in fact.”
    â€œOnly with me, is that it?”
    Cole leaned across the table toward her and lowered his voice. “Jessamine, if you don’t stop worrying your teeth into your lips like that, so help me I’m going to kiss you right here in front of everybody.”
    Her eyes rounded into two green moons. “I. Beg. Your. Pardon?”
    â€œYou heard me. Stop biting your lips.”
    She turned the color of strawberry jam. “What business is it of yours what I do with my lips?”
    â€œNone at all. But I’m only human, and I’m male, so stop it.”
    She tossed her napkin onto the table and started up, but he snaked out his hand and closed his fingers around her wrist.
    â€œSit.” He gave a little tug and her knees gave way.
    â€œNow,” he said in a businesslike tone. “We’re gonna have a council of war, Miss Lassiter, so listen up.”
    She opened her mouth, then closed it with a little click, and he proceeded.
    â€œSome things are fair in journalistic jockeying, and some things are hitting below the belt. What you wrote about Conway Arbuckle is below the belt.”
    â€œWhat things?”
    He dragged her newspaper from inside his jacket pocket, spread it flat on the table and tapped his forefinger on her editorial. “That he’s larcenous. And that