Free Mr. Wrong (A Homespun Romance) by Geeta Kakade Page B

him the anger draining out of her and Brady quickly caught the change in her face.
    “Believe me sweetheart,” he said earnestly, “I can afford it.  Just relax and enjoy yourself.”
    She smiled uncertainly and Brady let out a long silent breath and gave thanks to his obliging ancestor.  Kissing that blarney stone helped one no end at times like this.
    “Katie you’re so beautiful.”
    His touch on her bare skin as he’d guided her to their table, the freshly showered smell emanating from his body, the utter handsomeness of him in the dark suit he had put on, strummed her senses into an urgent tempestuous melody at odds with the restrained ambience of their surroundings.
    “You’re not so bad yourself, Brady,” she mocked conscious all the while of the hummingbird doing it’s act in her throat. 
    She wanted to burrow against him and smell the cologne directly off his skin, inhale too the scent of him mixed in with it, as she had earlier that day.
    It was Brady who broke the spell by telling her about the American couple who had fallen in love with England and returned to start this restaurant, making it an exact replica of the cottage they had stayed at in Surrey.
    Kate’s thoughts wandered as Brady spoke.  This was the second time today he was deliberately transferring sexual tension into the plains of normalcy.  The first time was when he had awakened on the beach and pressed his mouth into the back of her neck and she had frozen.  If he had turned her over and taken her then and there she would have been a willing accomplice.  But he had jumped up and reached for his shirt and the picnic basket.  Kate wished she knew why he was taking this new line.  To throw her off guard? 
    Brady persuaded her to try the duckling a la orange with peas and cauliflower and as he was obviously familiar with the house specialties Kate was content to leave the ordering of their meal to him.  The menu, fortunately for her peace of mind held no prices.  It would be no use reasoning with Brady once he made up his mind anyway so Kate did just as he asked and relaxed.
    All through dinner, her awareness of the man opposite mounted.  Brady was the perfect gentleman, anticipating her every need before she voiced it, keeping the conversation light, asking her about the preschool, genuinely enjoying the stories she related.  He was drawing her out and soon, thought Kate, he’d know as much as she did about herself, whereas the only thing she could add to her scanty string of facts about Brady was that he had spent most, if not all, of his tax returns on her today.
    They were lingering over their Pavlova when Kate said, "Tell me about your parents Brady.  What does your father do?”
    A strange shadow crossed Brady’s face almost as if he was embarrassed and then he said, “He was in business.  He’s retired now.  Spends a lot of time with Cody and grows roses.”
    “And your mother?”
    “She works part time, says it’s the only way to keep young and refrain from driving my Dad crazy.”
    “Brady...” he loved the way she said his name, the silvery notes making it sound special.
    “Yes, Katie?”
    “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to,” she took a sip of water as if it would help ease the words out, “but do your parents love each other?”
    “Very much.”  There was nothing he could be more sure of.
    “Oh.”  Just that.  Nothing else.
    “They met when my Mum was eighteen,” Brady said, aware of Katie’s need to know more.  “She had just been taken on as a salesgirl in his father’s store and was very nervous because her supervisor was a real martinet type.  Mum muddled through her first day and then she was told to take a couple of boxes to the manager’s office before she went home.  She went there, shaking in her shoes, sure she was going to be told not to return.  My Dad took one look at her scared face and it was love at first sight for both of them, though it took them