Home > To Catch a Man (The Bad Boy Billionaires #8)(18)

To Catch a Man (The Bad Boy Billionaires #8)(18)
Author: Judy Angelo

She pulled the mosquito netting aside and slid out of bed.  She might as well get started early.  She was looking forward to a productive day and, if all went well, a very exciting evening.

Anita came to get Indie just after eight o'clock so she got a chance to have breakfast with the boys.  Then after they'd filed away to their classes she toured each room and got to know them individually.  The little ones were really excited to have her, and climbed onto her lap and pulled her hair which was growing a little longer.  They wouldn't let her leave until she'd read them a story and then another until finally, hugging them and laughing at their antics, she was able to slip out.

She toured the other classes and was able to note their needs.  Later she would write a requisition list.  After that it was time to examine the housing facilities and determine what needed to be done.  By the time she'd done her tours it was almost three in the afternoon, she'd missed lunch, and she hadn't even had time to speak to Cook yet.

Of course, when she did speak to him he was none too pleased at the short notice and he held nothing back in telling her so.  Still, after much cajoling and wheedling, she got him to agree to prepare a simple meal of chicken stew with mashed potatoes and sweet corn.

That settled, she hurried back to her cottage-cum-office where she did paperwork  until about five o'clock.  At that point she had to break to get herself ready for her dinner date.  She was pleasantly surprised when the meal arrived at five-twenty, long before she'd even had a chance to dress and fix her hair.  Not that there was much to fix, it was so short.  But still, she wanted to look her best.

This evening she softened her look, forgoing the slacks for a flowing, ankle-length dress with a slit that ran up her left calf and halfway up her thigh.  She knew she had nice legs.  She'd received her fair share of compliments.  And tonight she planned to give Stone a peek so he could see what he was missing.

And that idea was all her own.  No Tessa, no Cosmopolitan Magazine, all Indie.

She set the table and, on an impulse, she set a short, fat scented candle in the middle and lit it.  She'd found the candle in one of the kitchen cupboards and why should she let it go to waste?  More importantly, she was trying to draw this man in so she might as well go all the way.

As the sun began to slide toward the horizon Indie went to the door and looked out.  And there, striding toward her house, tall and dark with the setting sun to his back, was Stone.

At the sight of him her heart gave a flutter.  Sure, she was expecting him and, of course, this wasn't their first dinner date.  But still, she couldn't stop her heart from jerking in anticipation.  Involuntarily she pulled at her dress, letting it fall softly around her legs, then she reached up a hand and smoothed her hair back and away from her face.  The fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach told her she was nervous as hell.  Come on, Indie, you've done this before.  Just chill out.

Stone was at her door now, and as he stepped forward she tilted her chin up, her face deliberately cool and serene, and accepted his peck on the cheek.  He would never guess that her placid exterior was just a sham.  Inside she was as jumpy as quicksilver.

“Now it’s my turn to welcome you,” she said with a soft smile as he stepped inside.

He didn’t reply but the intensity of his gaze was all the response she needed.  He was taking her in, all of her, from the top of her head down to her sandaled feet peeping out from under the hem of her dress.  And his eyes lingered in all the right places – the sweep of her collarbone, the slope of her neckline and all the way up that all-important slit in the side of her dress.

His glance slid back to her face and when he realized that she’d been following his eyes he straightened his back and cleared his throat.  A hint of a flush told her he was embarrassed at being caught.

But she didn’t mind the attention at all.  She welcomed it.  It was a very encouraging sign.

“Make yourself comfortable.”  She gave him a reassuring smile.  “You must be thirsty after your walk.  I’ll get you a drink.”

When she got to the kitchen she drew in a deep breath then let it out slowly.  Staying in control was not going to be as easy as she’d thought.  Having him so close – the woodsy fragrance of his cologne, the fact that he was sitting right there in her living room – was sending her pulse racing like she’d just done a five mile run.  Even her fingers were shaking.  Yikes!  She really had to get a hold of herself or he’d think she’d gone batty.

She let a few seconds pass and then, pasting a smile on her face, she exited the kitchen carrying the two chilled glasses of wine.  She was surprised when she saw that Stone had found the chess game that had been sitting on top of the bookcase.  He'd opened the box and was laying out the pieces as she entered the room.

“You like chess,” she said matter-of-factly.  It was not a question.  He just looked like a man who would be good at that sort of game.

He shrugged and continued to place the pieces.  “I’m competitive.  What can I say?”  Then he looked up at her and grinned.  "Want to play?”

She gave him a crooked smile.  “I don’t know…”  He looked like he could give her a good whipping and she didn’t know if she wanted to lose to him tonight.  Maybe some other time but tonight she wanted to be a winner in every sense of the word.  She handed him his glass of wine and went over to sit on the seat across from him then she slid back in the chair, relaxed, and took a sip.

“Chicken?”  He gave her a cheeky grin.

“Never.”  But still, she didn’t move closer to the board.  “I’ll take you up on your challenge,” she said, “after dinner.”  With any luck after dinner they’d be too occupied to even remember about a chess game.

Stone seemed unperturbed.  He shrugged his broad shoulders and lounged in the sofa, watching her over the rim of his glass as he sipped.  With his brown eyes near golden and the dark-brown hair framing his rugged face he could have been a lion basking in the warmth of the South African sun, casually regarding his prey.  But she was the hunter, not the hunted.  She didn’t like feeling like prey.

“Let’s head for the dining room before our food gets cold,” she said and stood up so he would, too.  He complied and followed her out of the living room.

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