Bird of Paradise Read Online Free Page A

a long nose that had a kink in the middle, and an
indentation on either cheek that hinted at dimples. She swallowed
hard, forcing herself to look away from him, suddenly aware that
she was shaking.
    Gemma was right! She had snapped!
    “I’m sorry, Miss . . . er . . .”
    “Hero,” she answered, trying to get a grip
on herself. It was worse than she’d imagined, this snapping. “Hero
North.”
    “I’m sorry, Miss North, but when my cat gets
bored, he has a habit of grabbing at passing items. He doesn’t
really mean any harm. I’ll have your wrap free in just a
minute.”
    Hero nodded, not trusting herself to look at
him. She’d never had this sort of reaction to anyone before; why on
earth did she have to have it now! And with an American man, of all
things! One who, a few minutes before, was probably drooling over
all of the tanned, fit women around him. She had to get hold of
herself before the horrible snapping did any more damage. Taking a
deep breath to calm her wildly beating heart, she tugged gently on
the fringe until a gray paw came into view in one of the carrier
holes.
    “Excellent. If you hold him like that, I’ll
unsnag his claws from your dress.”
    Even his voice was sexy! It was low and
sensual and rumbled around, striking a chord deep within her. She
watched his long fingers carefully unhook the tangled fringe from
the cat’s claws. Maybe she hadn’t really snapped after all. Maybe
she was just so lonely that any man was starting to look good.
Maybe there was nothing special about this one, other than his
drop-dead-sexy voice and really nice fingers. Maybe thinking about
all those sex fiends had triggered a hormonal moment. Surely she
was better now. Surely this man was nothing special.
    “There you go. I don’t think any damage is
done, but if there is let me know and I’ll pay for your dress.”
    She glanced at him as he released her fringe
from the claw. Oh, Lord, she moaned to herself, it was worse than
she first thought! His eyes were deep, deep blue, and the
delightful laugh crinkles around them were evident as he smiled,
and she was right: he did have the faintest dimples on either
cheek. She just wanted to grab his head and kiss him. There was no
hope for her now. All that was likely to be in her future were a
few illicit weeks of pleasure before he moved on to another woman,
leading to her eventual downfall to alcoholism, and quite probably
insanity.
    “Erm . . .” Oh, why had her
brain chosen this moment to shut down? Why couldn’t she remember
how to speak? Why did those glittering blue eyes peering into hers
make her forget those things said to people when you wanted to talk
to them . . . words , that was it. Where had all her words gone?
    He leaned his head slightly toward her. “Is
there something the matter?”
    “No. No, nothing. It’s just that I . . . erm
. . . nothing. Thank you.”
    He nodded and stood up holding out his hand
to help her to her feet. She stared at it stupidly for a moment,
noticing his heart line curved up between his index and middle
finger.
    “You’re a romantic,” her mouth said before
her brain could veto the inane comment.
    That startled his almost-dimples back into
hiding. “I beg your pardon?”
    “Sorry, I did an article on
palmistry last year.” She took his hand and got to her feet,
mentally cursing at herself. Stupid,
stupid, stupid! Here was a veritable oasis
of a perfectly nice man in a desert of sex fiends, and she had to
babble at him like an idiot. That was what snapping did to you: it
turned you into a raving lunatic.
    “Article? You’re a writer?” His head tipped
a little to the side in question, his smile doing all sorts of
squishy things to her insides.
    Oh, Lord, now what had she done? “Writer?
Me? I . . . eh . . . just dabble in it.
    “Ah.” He looked at his hand. “How do you
know I’m a romantic?”
    Her heart did a little somersault as she
traced his heart line, her finger tingling with the heat of his
palm.