The Millionaire Comes Home. Mary Baxter Lynn
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Not fair.
Here she was, aging, gathering wrinkles in all the wrong places. So what? It didn’t matter whether the years had been kind to her or not. Except that it did. Granted, Denton was just passing through, but it was important to her that she at least didn’t look like the wrath of God, for heaven’s sake.
Then it hit her she was still wearing her apron.
Feeling her cheeks flood with color, she reached for the sash at the back and jerked it.
“Don’t.”
Her head jolted up. “Don’t what?”
“Take it off.”
Her hands stilled, and when she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out.
“It’s…different.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Right.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“What you are is ‘seriously’ making fun.”
“Somehow it suits you.”
“You don’t have a clue what suits me,” Grace snapped, then mentally kicked herself.
“True,” he said, his mouth slightly downturned. “But I know what I like, and I like your apron.”
“Fine. But I don’t.” She jerked it off and headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll get the drinks and be right back.”
“Need any help?” he called to her back.
She didn’t so much as slow down. “No, thanks.”
By the time she had a tray filled with both iced tea and coffee, her hands were shaking. It was a miracle she had glasswear of any kind left. Just get through this, she told herself. Be polite, make small talk, then get rid of him. Send him back from whence he came.
Blowing out a deep breath, Grace planted a smile on her face and went back into the garden room. Denton had taken a seat in one of the wicker chairs. When he saw her, however, he rose and reached for the tray.
She shook her head, then set it down on the coffee table in front of the settee. “Your choice?”
“Coffee,” he said, reaching for it on his own.
She chose a glass of iced tea. For a moment they each sipped in silence, though for Grace that silence still had undertones of booming thunder.
“This is really yours?”
“You sound like that’s not possible.”
“Hey, that’s not it at all. It’s just that I’m impressed.”
“Impressed, huh?”
“Yeah, impressed. This is a grand old house, and apparently you’ve made a success of operating it as a bed-and-breakfast. To me that’s impressive.”
“I’d like to think so. I know that I love every minute of being an innkeeper, so to speak.”
“You would. It fits your personality to a T.”
Again she wanted to tell him he didn’t know jack about her personality, but she refrained. She was already in water over her head. Why purposely drown herself?
“Did you buy the old place?”
“I’m buying it. Right now the bank and I are partners.”
He chuckled. “I hear you.”
“One of these days, though, it’ll be mine free and clear.”
“You’re that busy?”
“Ruby’s grown, despite the fact that it maintains its status as a quiet country town. Being so close to Austin has given us the tourist boost we needed to grow our economy.”
“I noticed several antique stores as I drove down main street. Ruby never had anything like that before.”
“Again, it’s the boom going on in Austin that’s responsible.”
He looked around for a moment, then faced her again, his eyes probing. If only he didn’t have that certain way of staring at a woman as if she was the only person on the face of the earth. Denton could rival Richard Gere when it came to that feat. At one time she’d loved that. Now she hated it.
“You look great, Grace. Have I told you that?”
A warmth spread through her, which she promptly ignored. “No, but that’s okay. I’d rather talk about you.”
“I’m sure you’re curious.”
“Let’s just say I know you’re not passing through for old time’s sake.”
Did he flush or had she imagined that?
“You’re right,” he said, reaching for his coffee and taking a drink. “I’m here to see a client.”
“In Ruby?” She didn’t bother to mask her astonishment.
“A quirk of fate. What can I say?”
“Whatever,” she said, hearing that breathlessness in her tone again and wishing she could get her act together.
He set his cup down, then crossed an ankle over the other knee. “I’m an investment broker in Dallas, have been for several years now.”
“That’s nice.”
He chuckled. “‘How boring’ is what you’re really saying.”
“I wish you’d stop trying to second-guess me,” she said, trying to control her edginess but failing miserably.
“I was always pretty good at doing that, if you’ll remember.”
His voice had dropped to a husky pitch, and his eyes were so intent on her lips that she felt a rush of color to her face while all the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. “Look—”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to go down that road. It’s just that I never expected to see you again, especially not here in Ruby.”
“Just because you hauled it—”
His lips thinned. “You’re right to be pissed.”
“Look, Denton, I’m not pissed, okay? Let’s just leave the past where it is. Buried.”
“So my car just broke down. How’s