Kitty: Bride of Hawaii (American Mail-Order Bride 50)
any corners cut and insisted on paying top dollar for the highest quality. He’d even threatened to continue to send Mrs. Dennard out until Kitty made expensive choices.
    How could she argue with that? The man was insane.
----
    R efreshed after a peaceful night’s sleep, Kitty dressed in one of her old, plain blue day dresses, already wishing she had one of the new ones from Mrs. Dennard for her meeting with Warren.
    While she’d always felt comfortable in her clothes, they suddenly didn’t feel good enough. The feeling left her vulnerable.
    “Miss Jones, please come in.” The butler allowed her entrance, taking her hat and gloves. “Mr. Castle is waiting for you in his study.”
    “Thank you, Makano.”
    She followed the broad-shouldered older man to Warren’s office, her nose twitching at the masculine scent of cigar smoke mixed with polish.
    “Miss Jones,” Warren rounded his desk to greet her at the door as Makano took his leave. “Please come in. Thank you for coming.”
    Her lips quirked at the sudden use of her last name. “Shall I call you Mr. Castle?”
    His voice lowered as he glanced out the door. “Absolutely not. And I insist on calling you Kitty when we won’t be overheard.”
    A gleam entered his chocolate eyes, and all thoughts vanished. He was too close. Her mind jumped back to the ship right after the storm when those same eyes held her captive a moment before they’d kissed.
    She cleared her throat, ripping her eyes away from his. “You wanted to see me?”
    “Yes.” He studied her as if trying to puzzle out her thoughts before swiveling toward his desk. “I wanted to see how you’re faring in the new house. Does it meet with your approval?” He gestured for her to take a seat.
    She sat on the opposite side of the massive piece of furniture, feeling more nervous as she settled into the butter-soft leather chair. “It’s the nicest place I’ve ever lived. The largest by far.”
    “I’m glad to hear it’ll suffice,” he teased, passing a glass paperweight between his hands.
    She returned his smile, but doubts crept in. “Warren, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”
    “Yes?”
    “You told me your mother lives here. If that’s true, why do you need me? Shouldn’t she take over hosting duties?”
    He set the figurine down with a crack. “It’s complicated, but let’s just say that she can’t accomplish what I’m looking for. I need someone else.”
    Confusion marred her brow. What did that mean? But with a scowl on his face, she wasn’t going to ask for an in-depth explanation. “All right. I merely thought of it and was curious.”
    He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. My mother is a sensitive topic.”
    She could see that. She mentally made a note about never bringing up his mother again. “I also wanted to thank you for sending the seamstress.”
    “I hope you got everything you needed.”
    She blushed. It was strange discussing such personal needs with a man who wasn’t her husband. “She was quite insistent about furnishing me with an entire wardrobe. Thank you.”
    He shook his head. “There’s nothing to thank me for. This is just another part of our arrangement. You’ll be mingling in high society and will need to dress the part. Because of that, it is a business expense. Nothing more.”
    “I understand. And I still thank you.”
    He smiled then. “You’re welcome.”
    “Is there anything else?”
    “Yes.” He sifted through the papers on his desk, locating one in particular before handing it to her.
    She scanned the list of names. “What’s this?”
    “That’s the list of guests who will be attending a picnic on the plantation in two weeks.”
    Her eyes darted back to the list of at least one hundred names. None of the names were familiar to her, but she knew they would be before too long. It was her job to find out everything she could about each person—to uncover their likes and dislikes, how they preferred their tea, and other such

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