Trouble in High Heels by Leanne Banks Read Free Book Online

She refused to talk about it anymore. The intense discussion was upsetting her stomach, or maybe it was the expression in Jackson ’s eyes. “And stop judging me. You’ve never walked in my shoes.”
    He glanced down her legs at her high heels and his lips twitched. “I can’t disagree with that.”
    “Hallelujah, have we actually found something we agree on?” she said more to herself than him. He unnerved her. She’d been in his presence only a little longer than ten minutes, and she was already feeling restless. “Okay, I think you have enough to get started. Let me know when you have some prospects for me.” She bit back the urge to say Now shoo. Jackson didn’t strike her as the kind of man to accept
shoo-ing.
    “Thank you for coming,” she said, reluctantly extending her hand but figuring it was the most polite way to dismiss him.
    His large hand swallowed hers the same way his whole persona seemed to dwarf hers. The strength in his clasp was appealing, and while his confidence in himself made her all too aware of her lack of it, she couldn’t fight a grudging admiration. What she wouldn’t give to have that kind of confidence. She wondered how he had gotten it and suspected it hadn’t been the easiest path. Rock solid, so sure. The qualities were so attractive to her. But she knew he was a man who would only marry a submissive, agreeable woman-someone he could control. Not her, she told herself, and she gave his hand a firm shake.
    Just as she had for the last few nights, Lori nixed social outings in favor of reading letters from her mother. There were so many it was going to take a while to read all of them. Her mother’s letters were full of warmth and her distinctive wisdom. The early letters, filled with news about Katie and the pets Lori had left behind, made her stomach clutch with emotion.
    She glanced around her room, now redecorated in soft tones of mauve and blue, and remembered how when she’d first arrived here she’d been afraid the big bed would swallow her up in the dark.
    The doorbell interrupted her reverie and she frowned, glancing at the clock. Nine o’clock. Curious, she rose from her bed with the letter still in one hand and her glass of champagne in the other. She was limiting herself to one glass so she wouldn’t make a fool of herself in front of Jackson again. She walked down the hall and had partway descended the steps when she stopped at the sound of a male voice.
    “Speak of the devil,” she murmured to herself, when Mabel allowed Jackson inside the door.
    He was dressed in jeans and a dark T-shirt that accented his biceps and the exaggerated V shape of his body. His hair was the same, his face was the same. He was even holding a folder in one of those large hands of his. Without a suit, he seemed even more masculine to her.
    As if he felt her studying him, he glanced up at her, and she felt his quick but thorough survey. She wore shorts and a summery tank top. His gaze lingered on the bare sliver of belly the shirt revealed, and she fought the urge to cover herself. Silly, she told herself. She wasn’t naked. She just felt as if she was.
    “I have a few prospects for you to look over,” he said.
    Surprise rushed through her. “Already?”
    “You gave the impression you didn’t want to drag your feet,” he said. “And based on your spending, we need to get moving.”
    “Okay,” she said, feeling anything but okay. Nodding, she walked down the rest of the stairs.
    He lifted a brow at the sight of her champagne glass and the letter she held. “What did I interrupt?”
    “I wasn’t getting drunk,” she assured him. “Just reading some old letters.”
    He nodded, studying her face. “From your father?”
    She shook her head. “No. My mother. My father-” She stopped, feeling a sharp jab of hurt and anger all over again. “My father kept them from me until he passed away.”
    Jackson ’s mouth rounded in a low-voiced “Oh.” He was silent for a long