A Convenient Proposal - By Lynnette Kent Page 0,34

for a walk tomorrow, see the rest of the farm. We’ve got an older mare who can be trusted with the greenest of greenhorns.”

“Does that mean me?”

“Yeah—somebody who doesn’t know what they’re doing.”

“I’m not sure. Let me think about it.” Sports had never been part of her life. She rarely exercised, other than her walks with Igor. And horses…what if she fell off? She’d never had a broken bone in her life, not even a sprained ankle.

Really, though, what did she have to lose? Her hands, once insured for a million dollars, were now worthless. She’d been sitting on an island for the last year doing absolutely nothing…except being bored.

“Let’s do it,” she told him. “I’m ready to try something new.”

THE AFTERNOON SHADOWS HAD lengthened by the time they picked up the bike and got back to his parents’ house. But the house itself was empty.

“Dad’s still at work, of course.” Griff had called the office during their drive. to make his report. “Mom’s classes end at two-thirty, but she could have had a faculty meeting. Or gone to the gym, the grocery store, or to one of my sisters’ houses. Who knows?”

He looked down at himself. “I need a shower and new clothes. Come upstairs with me.” When she looked dubious, he smiled. “There’s a sitting area where we all kind of hang out. You can wait there while I change.”

Arden followed him up the steps. “This is a very large house. Did your parents build it?”

“My grandparents did the building.” He flipped switches as they climbed, bringing light into the darkened house. “They had six kids—all meant to help with the farm work, of course. But Dad went off to college, the four girls got married to business types and my uncle went into the army. So Granddad gave up farming and moved with my grandmother to a retirement community in Tampa.”

“Did you visit while you were there?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t know what I’d say to this crusty old guy who spent most of his life wrestling food out of the red Georgia clay.” Yet another example of his overall failure this last year. But Arden didn’t need to bear that burden. He gestured to the U-shaped arrangement of recliner couches. “Have a seat. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable.”

Once in his room, he started to unbutton his shirt and then stuck his head back out the door. “You can peek at my room, if you want to.”

She looked so shocked and appalled at the idea, he couldn’t help chuckling all the way through his shower.

After taking the time to shave again, he dried off and pulled on his jeans, but was still carrying his shirt with two fingers when he returned to his bedroom and found Arden staring at him from across the room.

“You said I could look,” she said, her cheeks turning bright pink. “I didn’t hear the water cut off.”

Grinning, he leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. “No, the plumbing is pretty quiet. Be my guest.”

She turned back to the bookshelf. “You really are a history buff. Churchill’s history of World War II, The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire, and all these other thick tomes full of facts. No comic books for you?”

“Are you kidding?” He went to the chest in the corner and pulled out the first drawer. “What’s your pleasure? Batman? Spiderman, Fantastic Four, Daredevil…and these are only the early issues. I’ve got more boxes in the attic.”

Standing beside him, she laughed. “I understand. Looks like you read almost anything you could get your hands on.”

Griff closed the drawer. “That would be correct. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t read.”

“I don’t see much in the way of sports trophies.” She leaned back against the chest. “But surely you were an athlete.”

“Why would you say that?”

He watched her gaze travel down the length of his body and up again, only then remembering he was standing there without a shirt on.

“You’re in great physical shape.” She spoke slowly, her voice a little deeper than usual. “You have a long stride and big hands.”

His whole body tightened, belly and thighs and chest, arms and rear end, the muscles growing thick with tension. He cleared his throat. “Thanks. I, uh, played basketball, baseball. I’ve been on horseback since I was four or five. Swimming, running. Whatever seemed interesting at the time.”

Only one physical activity, however, could possibly interest him at this very moment.

“Did you