Ain't She Sweet (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers #2) - Whitney Dineen Page 0,68
thought I wanted to get married again, I’ve come to realize that I miss having someone to share the quiet moments with.” Gwen’s attention is suddenly drawn to a dispute occurring across the dining room from them.
A man she assumes is the chef is talking to a beautiful young woman. The woman raises her voice and nearly bellows, “I didn’t order filet mignon, I ordered Chateaubriand and that’s what I want.”
She can’t hear what the chef says, but the woman’s response is crystal clear. “Do I have to talk to the owner about this?”
That’s enough to get Ruby to turn around. “Gwen, will you excuse me while I go check on what’s going on over there. It seems my chef and the wedding planner are locking horns over something.”
“Of course,” Gwen says. Her eyes are trained on the young woman. There’s something about her that’s very familiar, but she can’t quite put her finger on it. She decides it must be nothing as she’s certain she doesn’t know anybody in Oregon.
Tara
James is a riot on the shoot with Rachel. He carries on and squeals like a little girl whenever his feet touch the water. Once we step up onto the rock to have our picture taken, he holds me very closely. He claims it’s because he’s so cold, but I think the truth is he’s uncomfortable knowing these shots are going to be seen by millions of people.
Rachel calls from the shore, “You two look beautiful! Just try to act natural and do whatever you’d normally do, so the pictures don’t look staged.”
“I normally wouldn’t be standing on this rock in the middle of November,” James grouses. “I don’t know what she wants from me.”
“Pick me up,” I tell him. “Then pretend like you’re going to throw me into the water. That will make for a fun shot.”
“You want me to throw you in?”
“I want you to pretend to throw me in,” I tell him before warning, “you throw me in, and I’m coming for you.”
James lifts me into his arms. “What did you and Rachel talk about on the way up here?”
“We actually talked a lot about her. She says she’s only working at the Tattler until she can get a staff job at a more respectable paper. She wants to work at the LA Times, but those jobs aren’t exactly a dime a dozen.”
“Do you believe her, or do you think she’s trying to get you to let your guard down by appearing more likable?” he asks.
“I think she’s telling the truth. I have good instincts about people. That doesn't mean I think of her in friendly terms, just less adversarial.”
“When does her article come out?” he asks.
“The Tattler wants to run the first one on Thanksgiving Day. She’s going to call it ‘Giving Thanks for a New Life,’ which I have to admit, I like.”
“It has a nice ring to it,” he says. “Just be careful. I’m nervous about her ever since seeing her talking to Syd Byerly.”
“Don’t think about him,” I say. “The pictures will be better for it.”
“You want me in the moment, do you?” His eyes glimmer with mischief and promise. It’s practically freezing out here, but my extremities are heating up like I’m standing in front of a bonfire wearing a fur coat. My brain is telling me to back off, but the rest of me is screaming, “Ride that bull!”
James slowly draws me into his arms, giving me plenty of time to pull away. I don’t. As he lowers his mouth to mine, I say a silent prayer that everything works out and I can stay in Spartan. I’ve never given much thought to topics like soulmates, but if such a thing exists, I’m starting to think James might be mine.
When his lips reach mine, I feel the effects to my very core. He holds me so close, we might as well be one person. In addition to being highly aroused, I also feel an inexplicable desire to cry. This could be my fresh start. Please let this be my fresh start.
It isn’t until I feel the effects our kiss is having on James—hello!—that I remember we’re on a photo shoot. “James,” I start to say before getting sidetracked again. I push back slightly, “Rachel is going to get some pretty interesting shots if we don’t stop.” I let my eyes travel south of his equator.
He snaps out of his lust-induced haze and says, “Damn. Where’s a cold shower when you need