Forever Hers by Walters, Ednah (top 50 books to read txt) 📕

ready to discuss our arrangement first thing in the morning. Goodnight.” She turned and walked away.

Eddie hurried to catch up, turned left when she did. He opened his mouth to ask her where his bedroom was, but she placed a finger on her lips and shushed him then opened a door and disappeared inside. The door closed with a soft click.

He waited for her to come out again. Seconds passed. Damn it, she wasn’t coming out and he had no idea where his bedroom was. There was only one other door at the end of the hallway, but when he opened it, it led to the garage. Pivoting on his feet, Eddie went in the other direction, opening door after door.

Great way to start his vacation—pissing off the housekeeper.

CHAPTER 2

Raelynn was still asleep when Amy slipped out of the bedroom. In the kitchen, Amy set about preparing one hell of a breakfast to woo Eddie Fitzgerald. He’d beg her to stay once he was done eating.

Leaving here wasn’t an option. They had nowhere to go, no money to rent a place or check into a hotel. A chunk of what she had saved before leaving Virginia had gone into furnishing Raelynn’s bedroom. The money from her books, the money the Fitzgeralds paid her and the rest of her savings was barely enough to feed them and clothe her daughter. Her daughter was growing like a bean pole. Every month she shot up a few inches. Amy needed to publish more books, which meant more time spent writing. Unfortunately, her writing had taken a back seat as she focused on her daughter’s well-being.

Outside of writing steamy romance novels, cooking was another one of her talents. When in the kitchen, Amy often slipped in the zone. She danced and hummed along with the music from her MP3 player while flipping pancakes like a pro. Keeping an eye on the sizzling bacon, she stirred the eggs and turned the hash browns. There was orange juice in the fridge and fresh brew in the coffeemaker. Everything was almost ready.

A feeling of being watched crept over her and Amy turned.

Eddie Fitzgerald rested his arms on top of the chest-level wall surrounding the sunken living room and studied her, a hint of a smile on his lips. A mask slipped into place as soon as he realized she’d noticed him. Her jaw almost dropped when he straightened his tall body and started toward her.

He was gorgeous. Masculine. Naked. Half-naked, but pot-tay-toes, pot-at-toes. Her gaze ran across his broad, masculine shoulders, a chest that went on forever, before dipping to a ridged stomach, which seemed to contract under her eyes. A thin line of hair disappeared under the waistband of his pajama bottoms, which hung way too low to be decent.

The first sign that he didn’t appreciate her ogling him was when she backtracked to his face and saw his lips pressed tight in a thin line, the earlier glimpse of a smile long gone. Her gaze flew to his and she swallowed at the flash of silver in the gray eyes. Pissing him off wasn’t a good way to earn brownie points.

“Good morning,” she said in an upbeat voice, trying to pretend she hadn’t noticed his annoyance.

He pointed at his ear.

“What?” Amy asked.

He closed the gap between them, bringing with him a wave of sexual energy that had Amy taking a step back. She hated that he made her nervous. It was one thing ogling him across the floor. He was overwhelming up close.

He plucked the ear buds from her ears.

Her face hot, Amy turned off the MP3 player and flashed him an apologetic grin. “Sorry about that. I forgot I had them in.”

“Do you always make this much noise in morning?” he asked.

Amy blinked at his frosty voice. “Noise?”

He crossed his arms and studied her with narrowed eyes. “Banging pots…singing at the top of your lungs.”

Was she? Probably. “Humming.”

“Screaming.”

She rolled her eyes. She could either take offense at his attitude or be the bigger person and make light of the situation.

“I sing all the time. Beautifully. No caterwauling or screaming. Just a sec.” She removed the last pancake, turned off the stove and took a few steps back, making sure there was considerable space between her and his chest. That expanse of pure muscle was too distracting. “Did I wake you?”

He made derisive sound. “No. I was already up.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Something like that.”

“Being in a strange bed does that to some people. Me? I can sleep anywhere…sofa, sleeping bag, bet I could even sleep under rock. Are you a morning person?”

A confused expression flashed across his face. “Yes. Why?”

“Because Raelynn likes music, too. She usually plays the MP3 on the docking station and cranks up the volume.”

“What kind of music?”

“Zumba.”

He scowled. “What?”

“Salsa, merengue, cha-cha, samba, hip-hop…anything with rhythm.”

His scowl deepened. “Of course.”

“You don’t like dance music?”

“Does classic rock count?”

She chuckled. “No. How do you like your coffee?” she asked, indicating the coffeemaker.

“Black, strong.”

“Then you’ll like this. I tend to use creamers myself.” She was babbling. She tended to do that when nervous. She placed the mug in front of him then propped her hip against the counter and studied him since he was busy studying her.

He had an unforgettable face. Sharp cheekbones, square jaws and piercing gray eyes that didn’t say much. His dark wavy hair was cut short, but not too short. Unruly strands rebelled and curled across his brow and at his nape. His skin was bronze, like he spent time outdoors. The turned down waistband indicated no tan lines either. A nudist? Interesting.

“About last night,” she said casually, noticing he hadn’t touched his coffee. “I don’t usually pull a gun on unsuspecting people, and I make a really mean cup of coffee.” She slid the steaming cup closer. “Go on, try it.”

She’d hoped for a smile, but got a frown instead. Mr. Fitzgerald was obviously not a morning person. How long was he planning on staying? Baron