The Airman's E-Mail Order Bride (Heroes of Chance Creek Book 5) by Cora Seton Read Free Book Online Page A

search. Heather Ward’s name came up in a few links and when he switched to images there she was—not the teenager she’d been when they were together, but a mature, beautiful woman whose clear, direct gaze pulled him straight into the past.
    She could have been his wife. She could have been the woman he grew old with, if only fate hadn’t sent them into a tailspin.
    When he couldn’t bear to look at her any longer, he flipped to Melanie’s e-mails and examined her image again. She was quite pretty with full lips, dramatic eyes, and dark hair pulled back into a long French braid that rested over one shoulder. She looked modern and capable, her stance upright and her smile friendly.
    She was by far the more appropriate choice for a fake wife, but he didn’t feel like sending Melanie a dirty text.
    His flirtation with Heather didn’t mean he wouldn’t go through with his business arrangement with Melanie, though. Heather couldn’t blame him, either. He’d been up front about wanting a fake wife. He’d told her point blank he was practically engaged.
    And then he’d exposed himself via e-mail. Classy.
    A chime had him focusing on his laptop. Heather. Finally.
    What are you wearing?
    Heat spiked through him. They were going to do this, were they? He sat back down on the bed, his flash of interest cooling slightly as he faced the truth. He didn’t intend to be with Heather, as much as he wanted to be. This was wrong.
    Still, he typed, Nothing. Didn’t you see my photo?
    He waited for her response. In reality he was still in jeans, boxer-briefs and a shirt. He’d kicked his boots off, but wore socks—this was January in Montana after all.
    By the way , he added. Wouldn’t it be easier to switch to chat? Better yet, video?
    Chat’s okay—not video, she answered. Colt chuckled. Heather didn’t want to expose herself. A few moments later, his laptop chimed with the information that Helena wanted to chat with him. I don’t buy that you’re naked, she wrote. Take it all off. I want to have my way with you.
    He laughed and settled in. Heather was just as feisty as always and now their conversation could proceed at a quicker pace. I thought that was my line.
    You thought wrong. Are you nekkid yet?
    Colt wavered, knowing he shouldn’t proceed with this game. He was playing with fire.
    Playing with Heather’s heart.
    Still, online sex with the woman who’d featured in his dreams for years? What red-blooded man could resist? He reached out to answer and hesitated.
    He should sign off. He should stop this before they went too far.
    He didn’t want to.
    Colt gave in with a growl. What the hell—in for a penny, in for a pound. Why not have a little fun before he went home and faced the music? Maybe this was just what they both needed to get each other out of their systems.
    He stripped down, strode to the heat register and turned it up, then climbed onto the bed, plumping the pillows behind him and bunching the covers around him to ward off the chill.
    Yep. You?
    Nope. I’m wearing a push-up bra, garters, silky stockings and mile-high cherry red heels.
    I like it. He liked it a lot. Colt toggled the keys and pulled up both the image of Helena’s breasts and the larger photo he’d found online of Heather fully dressed.
    Another message chimed. I’m letting you touch my breasts.
    Too late to stop this now. I’m pulling the edge of your bra cups down and taking your luscious nipples into my mouth, tugging and teasing them until you moan, he wrote back.
    I’m sliding my hands all over your body, kissing your neck, your shoulders, your chest, she wrote.
    He could almost feel her soft feathery kisses all over him. He leaned back, his pulse kicking up a notch, and took hold of himself, moving his hand in slow, languorous strokes.
    I’m undoing the catch of your bra and sliding it off your shoulders, glorying in the way your breasts bounce free.
    She wrote back quickly . I can barely breathe for wanting you. I reach