never do anything at all, anymore,” she muttered under her breath.
He didn’t think he could have heard her right. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing.”
He switched her to a cuddle position. He leaned down, intending to murmur in her ear. She wanted to flirt? He was there.
“Head high,” the instructor called.
Hunter corrected his posture and caught her smirk.
He went back to the basic pattern, then changed it up, then whirled her through an underarm turn, her skirts flaring around her knees.
“You are absolutely gorgeous,” he whispered.
“Thank you,” she said on a sigh. “But I’m tired of being gorgeous.”
The song faded to an end.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
She fingercombed her hair. “Restaurants and dances and fancy clothes are all well and good. But I want to kick back. Maybe hop into sweats, watch a sappy movie and cook something for myself.” She pouted prettily. “I miss cooking.”
“I don’t miss cooking.”
“That’s because you’re spoiled.”
“I’m not spoiled.”
She looked pointedly around the big, mirrored room. “We’re having a private dance lesson.”
The music started, and he took her into his arms once again, not fighting his feelings so much anymore.
“That,” he said as he squared his shoulders and checked their lines, “is because I’m spoiling you.”
She seemed to contemplate his words as the notes ascended. “That is also true.”
Hours later, Sinclair glanced around at the huge arched windows, the kitchenette and the overstuffed leather furniture. “All this time you’ve had a kitchen?” she asked Hunter.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
