The Millionaire's Proposal by Janelle Denison Read Free Book Online

buds—anything to keep her busy and moving. “I have no idea what I’m going to do with so many dozen.”
    “Enjoy them.”
    Her mouth opened to reply, then snapped shut when she saw that he was making himself comfortable. Slipping out of his navy coat, he draped it over the back of her floral sofa. He loosened his tie, and her stomach dipped.
    “Can I get you something to drink?” she blurted, her voice high-pitched to her own ears. “Coffee? Juice? Wine?” She breezed past him toward the kitchen, and he caught her wrist, halting her progress.
    His eyes were warm, and kind, and a tad amused. “I’m not thirsty.”
    “A slice of cheesecake, then? I bought a few slices from the bakery yesterday, and I even have fresh strawberries to top it off.”
    “I’m not hungry for dessert, either.” His soft, low voice catered to her jumbled nerves. The way he stroked his thumb over the pulse point in her wrist sent a pleasant thrum of desire through her. “Would you rather I go back to my hotel?”
    “No!” Startled by her sharp tone of voice, she cleared her throat. Despite wanting him, the good girl she’d been for so long was very nervous about the night ahead. “I mean, I want you to stay, it’s just that . . . well . . .” Twin spots of heat burned her cheeks, and she looked away.
    Tucking a finger beneath her chin, he brought her gaze back to his. “It’s just what?” he prompted.
    Drawing a breath, she summoned the fortitude to confess her insecurities. “It’s been a long time, Ford.”
    He seemed to consider that. “For us . . . or with any man?”
    Certain she couldn’t become any more embarrassed than she already was, she muttered, “Both.”
    He tilted his head, and smiled. “Would it help if I told you that it’s been a long time for me, too?”
    It did help, and there was enough honesty in his expression that she believed him.
    “Tell you what, why don’t we just start where we left off at the country club? We’ll take this slow and easy, and we can put a halt to this any time you want.” The backs of his knuckles stroked her cheek, and goose flesh rose on her skin. “You only need to tell me to stop and I will, okay?”
    She nodded, appreciating that bit of security, and the right to change her mind at any time.
    He indicated the bright lamp in the living room. “Can I turn off this light?”
    “Yes,” she said, preferring the softer illumination from the kitchen to guide them, instead of the harsh glare of the lamp. She watched him move away, and flip the switch on the wall, throwing the room into an intimate, romantic setting. Then he came back to where she stood and stopped in front of her, and she could feel the heat of his muscular body, could smell the male scent of him.
    “Would you mind if I took the clip from your hair? Or maybe you’d like to do it for me?” He made the suggestion lightly, but the husky quality to his voice was very revealing. “More than anything, I’d love to see your hair down.”
    He was giving her the choice, and she accepted it. Holding his watchful gaze, she reached up and unsnapped the clip securing the mass of hair on top of her head. Soft, buoyant curls cascaded to just below her shoulders, framing her face.
    She thought she heard him suck in a breath, and her own heart skipped a beat. Silently, she willed him to touch her hair, and then he did, reverently threading his long fingers through the thick, warm strands.
    A deep groan of pleasure rumbled from his throat. “It’s still so rich, so silky,” he said, awed.
    He spent another minute luxuriating in the weight and texture of her hair, burying his hands in the mass and using his fingers to massage her scalp. Grace shivered and all but purred—his fascination with her hair was one of the more sensual experiences of her life.
    “Can I kiss you now?”
    She smiled up at him, feeling lethargic and complacent. “I’m not used to having someone ask permission to kiss me.”
    He