Desperate Lola (The Mail Order Brides of Boot Creek Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

He’s a rich recluse, who prefers books to women, that and collecting rare bottles of wine. I can’t understand why somebody has all those bottles and they don’t drink them.”
    “You wouldn’t understand, but I do.”
    He leaned nearer, which was slightly alarming. “Now a fella like me likes women plenty.” He had spoken in a low, seductive purr. “I got a soft spot for blondes with pale blue eyes. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen in these parts in years.”
    It distressed me that his words flattered me immensely. “You’re an accomplished sweet-talker.”
    “I can do a heck of a lot more than talk, honey.”
    Reaching out, he grasped my face, and, before I could push him away, he kissed me. Shocked, I wanted to tell him to stop, even opening my mouth to do so, but his tongue silenced me almost immediately. To my consternation, I felt myself softening towards him, leaning in, while my hands rested on his shirtfront. The drugging quality of his kisses soon had me yearning for something else, wicked and forbidden, which at last brought me to my senses. I pushed him away, slapping his face.
    “Stop that!”
    “You don’t want me to,” he said huskily.
    Scrambling to my feet, I hurried towards camp and the dying fire, seeking solace. “I’m not going to mention this to Mr. Kelly. I would suggest that if you wish to keep your job, you don’t mention it either.” I sat on the bedroll, wrapping my arms around my legs, while chastising myself for that weakness. If I had anticipated his attempt at seduction, I could have better prepared myself for it. Oh, he knows how to turn a ladies head. Blast him!
    Mr. Brittle approached, his grin knowing. “It’s gonna be a long night. It might even get cold. Real cold. If you need something to warm you up—”
    “I won’t.” I scowled at what remained of the flames. “Goodnight.”
    While he threw more branches into the pit, I dug through the traveling bag, retrieving another letter. The sage words from my husband-to-be would bring me comfort and restore me to my senses. The guilt I felt for kissing Chuck remained acute and it smarted like a bee sting. I hated that I had so easily succumbed to his advances, but I was hardly adept at fending off the amorous inclinations of men, as I had rarely courted. My stepfather had been just as bold once, when he had been drunk, but he wasn’t in his right mind at the time.
    Unfolding one of the more recent letters, I read.
    Sweetest Lola,
    Your assessment of my current state of mind was rather accurate. I do wonder if a letter has gone missing, though, because you never did respond to what I had to tell you about the colors I suggested for the walls in your bedroom. I’ll repeat the questions again at the end of this letter. They are on a separate page. The mail is at times not reliable. I wish a better means of communication were available, but unfortunately, we will just have to make due.
    You had asked me what I loathed most about people, if you will remember. I never did answer you, as we then discussed our likes and dislikes in all aspects of child rearing. But I will tell you now how I feel. The one thing I abhor the most in a person is dishonesty. I hate a lie, but I do realize most people tell little white lies. It would be impolite to utter exactly what one thinks or feels at every moment of the day. In a marriage partner, I would expect complete honesty. I will not hesitate to tell you what I feel, my darling, and I hope you would do the same. A marriage without trust and respect is something I wish to avoid.
    The reason for my prolonged bachelorhood is that my standards in this area have always been too high. I don't expect perfection, but for some reason, most of the women I have encountered in this part of the world are fast, loose, and fickle. My chances of finding a woman who shares my old-fashioned beliefs are higher with someone well bred and from a respected home back east. These western women are far