The Sunstone Brooch : Time Travel Romance by Katherine Logan (i am reading a book TXT) 📕

she could figure out how to put on a bustle, she’d wear that one to dinner. But what she really wanted and hadn’t found so far was a pair of lounging pajamas. Did they even exist in 1885? If they did, JC, knowing her preference for wearing comfortable clothes at home, would have included them.

In the very last box, she found a gorgeous semi-sheer white peignoir set with ruffled sleeves, pink ribbons, beige floral embroidery, and a matching pair of cotton and silk slippers. It was so delicate she was afraid to wear it, but after what she’d worn the past few weeks, the luxurious fabric would feel fantastic against her skin, so how could she resist?

She hung the gown on a hook in the bathroom and was about to start the water when she remembered the promised drink.

Before opening the door, she readjusted the blanket tightly around her. Then she called down the hall, “Austin, where’s my drink?”

“Just a minute.” Within moments, he was walking back down the corridor toward her room, humming “Beautiful Dreamer.”

“You must like that song a lot. I’ve heard you hum it before. Or, are you just dreaming?”

“Both. It was one of Maggie O’Grady’s favorites.” He held out the glass, singing…

“Beautiful Dreamer, beam on my heart / E’en as the morn on the stream let and sea; Then will all clouds of sorrow depart / Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me / Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!”

She accepted the drink. “You have an amazing voice.”

“Thank you. Now, do you need help? Can I carry away the trash?”

“Maybe later. I’m still admiring all the beautiful things JC picked out.”

Austin leaned against the doorjamb, trying to block anyone else’s view into the suite. “I doubt he picked out anything. He probably walked into the most expensive women’s dress store in Chicago, gave a clerk your measurements, and hired her to select a wardrobe for you.”

Ensley took a small sip and shivered as the burning sensation traveled from her mouth and down the delicate lining of her throat. She coughed. “JC doesn’t know my measurements.”

“Hell, Ensley. I know your measurements.”

She didn’t grasp but wanted to. Austin’s certainty about something so personal freaked her out. “Did you measure me in my sleep?”

He crossed his arms. “You’re five foot two and normally weigh”—he wiggled a hand—“about a hundred and two pounds, give or take a few ounces. Your BMI should be around eighteen, but you’ve lost weight since you’ve been here. Your measurements are thirty-two, twenty-two, thirty-two. You wear a size seven shoe and zero in clothes. Am I right?”

Her mouth gaped open, and her pointy-toe red slipper bounced in a pissed-off tempo. “You’re sick, is what you are. How could you know any of that?”

He fidgeted with his shirt collar and looked down at his feet before returning his gaze to her. “It was sort of a game I played at the gym with my trainer, guessing a woman’s measurements. Sounds dumb now, but am I right or wrong?”

“It’s none of your goddamn business. I don’t want to be a collection of numbers, and I never go to the gym.”

“I know that. During the week, you go to yoga classes and do short runs. Then on weekends, you run ten to fifteen miles. You’ve run marathons but prefer halves. They’re challenging enough and not as hard on your body.”

He was dead on, but she’d never admit it. “You spend too much time in the gym.” She took another sip, and this time it didn’t burn as much. The next swallow shouldn’t burn at all.

“Nah. Working out at the gym was part of the job.”

He reached up and gripped the top of the door frame. Sometimes, when she stood next to him, she felt like David next to his Goliath-size body. And for the hundredth time, she fantasized about going to bed with him. It was scary and sexy at the same time. And she scratched her head, unable to figure out how Peg A could fit into Slot B.

“If you get in the tub and want a refill or want help washing your back or even your hair, I’ll do…whatever. And I’ll even close my eyes.”

“If you expect me to believe that, you’re crazier than I thought. Now run along.” She pushed on the door, but his big feet were in the way. “Goodbye, O’Grady.”

He still didn’t move. “You sure you don’t need any help?”

“I’ll let you know if I do.”

He inched his feet out of the way so she could close the door.

“Goodbye.” She clicked the latch bolt into place and leaned against the door for a minute, imagining him on the other side, his green eyes darkening. She took another sip and wondered if it was the desire in his eyes or the whisky shooting steamy heat through her that made her want to jump into his arms.

Definitely his eyes!

As the train clattered over an uneven section of the tracks, she tossed the blanket aside and entered the bathroom, still fantasizing about Peg A and Slot B.

An hour later, she was squeaky clean and warm inside and out. The nightgown was like silk against her skin, fresh and soft, and reminded her of home. Not New York. The ranch. And she wasn’t sure what that meant. She untied the towel she’d wrapped turban-style around her head and shook out her wet hair, making a frustrated face at herself in the mirror. Without a hairdryer, it would take hours to dry.

A knock sounded on the door. She glanced that way and smiled as if she could see through the solid mahogany. It was Austin. Don’t ask her how she knew. She just did.

“Ens, can I get you anything? Another drink? A snack? A fresh towel?”

“You can come in,” she said.

The knob twisted, but he didn’t push it open, and he sounded puzzled when he asked, “Are you sure?”

“If I didn’t want you in here, I would have said so.”

He pushed open the door and stood there looking at her. He cleared his