She's the One Read Online Free

reminders of his past. “Have you ever been to a hunting and fishing lodge?” He didn’t give her time to respond, quite certain he already knew her answer. “Some are nicer than others but Zeke’s lodge is very plain. Bathrooms are shared, the entertainment is the fishing and hunting as well as the animal viewing opportunities—and that’s about it.” He glanced down and noted the smooth shine on her perfect nails. “Zeke hasn’t been doing this long so therearen’t a lot of extras, and we certainly don’t have room service, a spa or a manicurist.”
    Her lavender eyes took on a sparkle of amusement. “That’s perfectly fine,” she said in her sweet twang. She lifted her chin another notch, a small smile curling the corners of her lips. “I can entertain myself—and paint my own nails.”
    It was more than her nails. He’d spent enough time in New York and abroad to know a designer coat and clothes when he saw them. His wife, Lauren, had owned two closets full of the overpriced stuff.
    Only a very high maintenance woman used to the finer things and having her every need catered to would wear four-inch spikes into the Alaska bush without thought to the consequences. She’d sink into the ground and not be able to get herself unstuck, and he sure didn’t have the time to be pulling her out or caring for her wrenched ankles afterward. “Alexandra, I think you need to consider rescheduling or letting me refund your money. I’d be happy to recommend a luxurious accommodation more befitting your…sense of style.”
    “You’re discriminating against me because of how I look?”
    There was that word again.
    “You do look a little soft,” Ansel offered from the sidelines, his wrinkled features and scrunched up expression similar to that of Elmer Fudd.
    He and Alexandra both turned to stare at the man and Ansel wisely excused himself to amble over to where Walter waited.
    Alexandra tilted her head to one side, the glint of a diamond earring sparkling amongst her glossy hair andthe hat pulled to the top of her ears. The accessory was sexy, with a bill she wore to the side and cocked at a jaunty angle. But one good breeze and all her body heat would escape through the loosely knitted holes.
    He could see it now. She’d be cold, sick and stuck in the mud in no time flat. “All I’m saying is that you might want to reconsider,” he said before she could dance on the discrimination minefield.
    Women like her wouldn’t fare well at a lodge like theirs and with Zeke moving slower than normal, Dylan didn’t have time to minister to her every complaint—and without a doubt he knew there would be complaints. Alexandra was similar enough to his deceased wife in her manner of dress that he felt safe making comparisons, and Lauren had hated simplicity with a passion, believing camping, hiking or the like too backwoods and hokey for her refined tastes.
    “Okay,” Alexandra said with a patient if somewhat put-out sigh, “I admit I’m not here to hunt but I’d like to try fly-fishing, and I’ve always wanted to photograph Alaska. I hope to go home with enough shots to round out my portfolio, and if I’m willing to rough it like the brochure says, what’s the problem?”
    A photographer? A string of curses paired themselves together in his head as leeriness surged like a tidal wave. His experiences with photographers were a nightmare only Hollywood could create. With another of his books in movie production, a book tour in progress and rumors running rampant, paparazzi had stalked him in and out of the police station, stretching the truth, altering fact and making up stories and lies that added a new level of torment to his living hell.
    He’d left California over eighteen months ago, more than ready to leave what used to be his life behind, and carried nothing with him but his luggage and his traumatized son. He wanted anonymity, obscurity.
    He wanted to be left the hell alone. Did she know who he was? Was