Free It's a Wonderful Wife by Janet Chapman Page B

lipstick on his bathroom mirror before sneaking away. Not that she could imagine a
normal
woman being in any hurry to leave his bed, even as she tried to imagine what it would have been like to have had him in it with her.
    God, he was handsome. And not in a polished urban-businessman way, either, as his deceptively casual manner and easy smile did little to disguise an underlying strength only a fool would challenge.
    He certainly didn’t appear to be lacking in physical strength, either.
    Heaven help her, it had been all she could do to pay attention to what he was saying during his meeting with Stanley last February, much less concentrate on her drawings. And she’d gotten all flustered when he’d stood up to leave and focused those sharp, Atlantic-blue eyes on hers as he’d held out his hand to say good-bye. She’d shot out of her chair like an idiot, dropped her sketchpad, then nearly bumped heads with him when they’d both bent to pick it up.
    Stanley had noticed, of course, and hadn’t stopped teasing her until she’d threatened to make the Covingtons’ rough study model look like a gingerbread house.
    Cadi felt herself getting flustered all over again as her repeatedly gracious rescuer headed toward her, his stride as commanding as his reputation. Had he honestly thought she hadn’t recognized him yesterday when he’d stopped to offer her a ride? God, if it wasn’t bad enough she’d spent the last three months imagining herself living in the house she was building
with
the man she was building it for, she’d also spent every night dreaming of him—some of those dreams positively salacious. But even more disconcerting had been her
day
dreams of the two of them on his island, playing hide-and-seek with a passel of kids who just happened to be theirs.
    He stopped in front of her, and Cadi lost the shade of her hat brim when she looked up and had to squint into the sun trying to read his expression—although she didn’t have any trouble guessing his mood when he spoke.
    â€œExactly what were you thanking me for before sneaking off without saying good-bye?”
    Nope, not a morning person. “For answering the questions in my notebook. You know the one I’m talking about? The private notebook I carry in
my purse
?”
    She wasn’t sure, but she thought the corner of his mouth twitched. “The only notebook I know of is the one I found on the floor beside
my bed
.”
    Yup, that was definitely a twitch.
    â€œHow’s your head this morning, Cadi?”
    â€œThe same as it is every morning—quite happy and raring to go. Why, does yours hurt? Maybe you’re addicted to caffeine and need a cup of coffee so you’ll be happy, too.”
    She heard him sigh. “Maybe you’re right. Can I bring you back one?” he asked, his gaze moving from the soda she was holding to the box sitting on the bench beside her purse.
    â€œThank you, but no. I think coffee is as nasty-tasting as it is addicting. Wait,” she said when he started toward the door. With the sun hitting him square on when he stopped, she could see he did look a tad tired, making her wonder why he’d slept in the recliner if the camper had enough beds for six people. She shot him a smile, hoping his sense of humor got up early. “I feel I should warn you that the owner thinks I’m your wife. Mr. Dean saw me walking up the parking lot from the camper when he was putting out the pansies, and insisted I come in and get coffee and some of the fresh doughnuts that had just arrived.”
    Up went an eyebrow. “And you didn’t feel the need to correct him?”
    â€œNot once I realized the name Sinclair literally opens doors.”
    â€œWell, sure,” he drawled, walking back and dropping onto the bench beside her. “Why not also help yourself to my name.”
    â€œThat’s what I thought,” she said, widening her