Charades Read Online Free Page A

her. The sheer physical awareness of his masculinity made her breath catch and her skin tingle with alarm.
         “Good morning,” she said, a little too cheerfully, stumbling out of her car and then cringing when she noticed she’d parked between the lines. “Oh, dear! Just a minute, I have to straighten this out.”
         Mercy jumped back in her car and rearranged it, her heart pounding. How would she ever make it through the week? She got out of the car again and opened the door to drag her suitcase and golf clubs out of the back seat.
         As he walked closer, her mind suddenly went blank. After “hello,” she hadn’t the slightest idea what to say. Following her yoga instructions, she took a deep, calming breath, swallowing to wet her vocal chords. Maybe, snatching at the first subject she could think of, they could talk about German literature.
         “Good morning,” Wulf said, taking her luggage and golf clubs out of her hands with an ease that made them seem weightless. “Are you afraid of small planes?”
         “Planes? What do planes have to do with German literature?” she asked, blinking up at him in surprise.
         “German literature?” he echoed in a puzzled tone.
         “I–I’m sorry. My mind was thinking of something else. What did you say?” She swept her hair back from her face. How in the world would she manage a whole week with this man?
         “Small planes,” he mumbled, a frown marring his forehead. “Single engine, turbo-charged, pressurized.”
         What was he talking about?
         Wulf shook his head, a fleeting impression of frustration on his face. “Are you afraid to fly in small planes?”
         “Oh! No, I don’t think so.” Should small planes scare her? She didn’t know. “I’ve never been in one,” Mercy said, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. “A small plane, I mean.”
         “Would you like to fly instead of drive? I am commercial and instrument rated. I’m a very safe pilot.”
         His solemn, little-boy look won her confidence better than all the honeyed persuasion in the world. She smiled at him, feeling her face flush. “All right, yes.”
         “Good!” He beamed from ear to ear. “We will fly.” He threw her luggage and clubs into the back seat of his car and held the door for her. As he started the car he dialed his cell phone and talked rapidly to someone in German. Wulf smiled as he hung up the phone. “We have a Bonanza. Good plane. I fly Bonanza in Germany,” he assured her, as if that should relieve her mind.
         “That sounds great,” Mercy said, her earlier enthusiasm fading almost as fast as it had arisen. What if she didn’t like flying after all?
         “We will take off from Love Field. Are you sure this is okay with you?”
         “Sure,” she said, suppressing a nervous giggle. Giggling destroyed the grave image of herself she wished to portray to the world.
         He smiled broadly. “Almost forgot,” he said, and dug in his pocket and brought out a small jeweler’s box containing the largest diamond solitaire ring Mercy had ever seen. He held out his large hand. “Give me your left hand.”
         She gave him her hand and tried not to pull it back when a tingle skittered up her arm. The ring slid down to her knuckle, then it stopped. Wulf frowned. “Hazel gave me the measurement.”
         “Don’t worry.” She jammed it over her knuckle. “There.” She smiled at him, holding up her hand and meeting his grin of approval. Why did his look give her such a funny feeling in her stomach?
         He took her hand again. “We must agree on how we met.”
         Mercy tried to ignore how warm his hand felt holding hers. “I thought we’d just say we were introduced by a mutual friend. That way it wouldn’t exactly be a lie.” Any kind of deception made her nervous, but was it their particular deception that made her nervous, or the way he kept