Secret Nights at Nine Oaks Read Online Free Page A

for…centuries.
    When he didn’t say anything, kept staring, she said, “Out of practice?”
    â€œHardly.”
    â€œWe can start at the beginning.” She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Phoebe DeLongpree, your sister’s best friend.”
    He looked down at her hand. He knew what would happen if he touched her, felt her warm skin against his in something as mundane as a handshake. He’d want more, and that he couldn’t have. Ever.
    â€œVery funny.”
    Phoebe frowned, lowering her hand. “More than a physical recluse, I see.” Miffed, she moved to the door.
    â€œPhoebe.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œThis is a male household. I suggest you cover yourself a bit more.”
    Phoebe didn’t bother looking down at herself. She knew what she looked like. She’d run nearly a hundred miles in the last couple weeks, worked out till she was sore and tired, doing anything to fall into a peaceful sleep. She faced him. He was behind his desk again, shuffling files.
    â€œIt’s a bikini, Cain.”
    â€œIs that what you call that?” There was more cloth in a handkerchief than in that top, for heaven’s sake. And unfortunately, Cain’s imagination was easily filling in what lay beneath every sparse inch of fabric.
    â€œYes, I do. And I look good in it or I wouldn’t be wearing it. And anyone on your staff could have walked outside and seen me, so I think the problem lies with you. ”
    He snapped a look at her. She unwrapped the sarong, slinging it over her shoulder, and on heeled sandals the same shade as her bikini, she turned and walked to the door.
    His gaze lowered and Cain groaned, feeling mortally wounded. The damn thing was a thong, and her slim hips and tight, round behind rocked in sexy motion as she left his office. He closed his eyes, the image replaying in his mind enough to make his ears ring and every muscle in his body lock up. His groin was so tight he thought he’d snap in two if he tried to sit.
    Cain let out a long-suffering breath, rubbing his face, then scraping his hands back over his skull.
    As much as he wanted her gone, he wouldn’t go back on his promise. When he lowered gingerly into the chair, he resigned himself to the sexiest creature on the planet torturing him with temptation.
    It was going to be weeks of pure hell.
    Â 
    Standing at the top of the staircase, Phoebe eyed the long curving banister, imagining descending the steps in a gown to a handsome escort waiting at the bottom. Chewing her lip, she leaned out, looking down the halls to see if she was alone, then hitched her rear onto the polished banister and slid her way down. She hopped to the floor, her sneakers squeaking, and she did a little wiggle before turning toward the hall.
    Someone cleared his throat.
    She flinched, spinning around. Willis stood nearby, grinning, and holding a tray. Phoebe flushed a little, put her finger to her lips, then moved closer.
    â€œThis is for Cain, right?” she said, scoping out the coffee service.
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    She snatched the pad and pencil from the breast pocket of his jacket, and scribbled a note, then stuffed it under the saucer. Willis, blond and young, gave the plate a skeptical look.
    If that won’t get a rise out of Cain, nothing will, she thought, then winked at Willis before heading toward the heavenly scent of freshly baked bread.
    Benson appeared out of nowhere. “Miss Phoebe, dinner is served.” He gestured toward the formal dining room.
    â€œOh, great.” She was looking forward to tasting one of Jean Claude’s creations. She followed Benson into the dining room, its vivid red walls and white trim giving a casual feel to the austere surroundings. The older man pulled out her chair and when she sat, he lifted silver domes off the plates. Her mouth watered as the glorious scents of lemon, chicken and delicate vegetables wafted up to greet her.
    She tipped in