Free The Bride Raffle by Lisa Plumley Page A

was correct.
    “The only thing that matters is that my papa won!” Élodie announced. “When he gets here and finds out, he’ll be so happy!”
    Warmly, Daisy smiled at the little girl. She appreciated her efforts to be welcoming, but… “None of you answered my question,” Daisy pointed out, surprising herself with her own tenacity. “Mr. Cooper did enter his name in the raffle, didn’t he?”
    At first, no one answered. Then, into the silence…
    “He did not enter his name” came a decisive male voice.
    Startled, Daisy glanced toward that sound. A very tall, very disgruntled-looking man stood in the doorway. He swept the jam-packed bedroom with an intimidating look, seemed to come to the conclusion that merely looking at everyone was insufficient to properly cow them, then growled out a second statement in a tone as deep as the one he’d initially entered the room with.
    “Furthermore,” he said, striding nearer, “he’d like to know what the hell you’re all doing in his goddamn bedroom!”
    At his multiple profanities, Miss O’Neill gasped. She crossed herself, then took a step back. Miss Reardon shuffled a bit closer to Thomas. Eagerly he took her elbow. Mrs. Sunley put her hands on her hips. Mrs. Archer stiffened her spineand hauled in another deep breath, evidently prepared to do battle.
    Daisy had the sensation that Mrs. Archer did that often. But she registered all those details only at the most peripheral level. Because most of Daisy’s attention—honestly, almost all her attention—was busy with the arresting sight before her.
    Improbably, the man who’d just arrived was naked from the waist up. He was holding a bundled-up shirt. He was wearing his trousers with his braces lowered, allowing those trousers to dip scandalously low on his frame. He was…simply put, stunning, from his finely honed male musculature to his intriguingly dark chest hair to the faint sheen of sweat beading on his skin.
    He was broad shouldered. He was tanned. And although his face bore the marks of a battered life, those few imperfections couldn’t mar his appeal. He was as fine a specimen of manhood as she’d ever seen, Daisy decided. Unlike his fellow townsmen, he was, she thought in a dither, neither lecherous nor slovenly. He was… fascinating. Simply fascinating. His face, his eyes, his mouth… She felt compelled to stare, feeling almost as though, by doing so, she could know him somehow, could learn his secrets, his thoughts, his every wish and desire…
    He caught her gawking. His frown deepened impressively.
    Into the breach came Élodie. Fearlessly she charged ahead where everyone else evidently feared to tread. “Papa!”
    Élodie ran to him, arms open. At that, Daisy’s heart jumped in her throat. Papa? Papa! That could mean only one thing.
    This was Owen Cooper. And she was in his bed. Oh, dear.

Chapter Nine
    S till baffled by the goings-on in his bedroom, Owen gaped at the assemblage of people there. Hastily, he pulled on his shirt to cover himself, deepening his scowl as he did so.
    Then Élodie ran into his arms, and he couldn’t help relaxing. A little. But that didn’t alter the strangeness of this situation—or change the fact that he wanted answers.
    “Papa!” Élodie cried. “See? You won! You won the raffle!”
    Owen hugged her. Then he released her, holding Élodie by her skinny shoulders. He looked into her beaming face, belatedly recalled all the coarse language he’d just used and vowed to do better the next time. If there was a next time he came upstairs to find an unknown woman lounging in his bed as if she owned it.
    Confused, yet unable to look away from that compelling sight, Owen sneaked a glance past Élodie’s head. Yep. The blonde was still there, just as pretty as she pleased, tucked into his ordinary bedclothes as though she’d been waiting for him to find her there…and had decided to do a bit of lightentertaining with the womenfolk to pass the time until he came