The Sapphire Pendant Read Online Free

How could he make a man so beautiful and a woman so plain? “I am sorry about hitting you.”
    The corner of his mouth kicked up in a quick grin. “No, you’re not.”
    “My temper gets the best of me sometimes,” she continued, refusing to agree with him.
    He raised an eyebrow.“Only sometimes?”
    “I said I was sorry, but that’s all I’ll apologize for.” She rested her elbows on her knees. “I mean, I know that I asked for it, but knowing that someone thinks you’re a man doesn’t put a person in a good mood.”
    “I’ve always thought of you as a woman, Jas. I’m just waiting for you to.”
    It was a line of bull, and she was falling for it, diving into his delicious chocolate eyes and allowing his words to cascade over her like a waterfall. He was the most convincing sheep-clad wolf she had ever met.
    “I still don’t like you,” she said.
    His mouth spread to a full grin, the one he saved for special occasions. Her pulse quickened. She ignored it.
    “Fair enough,” he said. “I don’t like you either.”
    For a moment they shared a gaze and a camaraderie that began to change into something more intimate as they stared at each other. He unexpectedly brushed a finger against her cheek, then put it in his mouth. “You had whipped cream on your face,” he whispered. “I’m hungry.”
    She rubbed where his finger had been. “Then get something to eat. I don’t want you eating off of me.”
    “Don’t worry. I realize poison is deadly.”
    She sent him a rude glance, which she reluctantly softened with a smile. “Touché.” She turned away and stood, breaking the sudden awareness that had come between them. “Looks like your date wants you.”
    Kenneth also stood, frowning. He watched his date approach. “You might have been right about the nappy thing. She does act like a baby.” He turned to see Jessie’s reaction, but she was gone.

 
     
     
    Chapter 2

     
    Jessie raced back to the servants’ hall, but the hostess, Mrs. Ashford, pounced on her before she could escape. Jessie knew that one of the biggest dangers in working in your hometown was that some people never saw you mature beyond a certain age. For Jessie, the age was thirteen—awkward, miserable thirteen. She had become acquainted with Mrs. Ashford when her mother and sisters would collect the leftover food from one of her many parties to feed the homeless.
    “My dear girl, what a shame,” Mrs. Ashford said in a smooth Louisiana drawl. She grabbed Jessie’s arm in a grip as impressive as her tall frame. “You always were one for causing scenes. But I can’t have you leaving the house looking like that.” She shook her head at the stain on Jessie’s uniform. She called one of her servants—Ms. Frey, if Jessie remembered correctly. She was a petite woman who managed to look bored, in spite of all the festivities around her. “Take Jessie to the guest room and give her one of my charities.” She turned to Jessie and pinched her cheek. Her face, the color of espresso and just as warm, spread into a smile. “No need to thank me, honey.”
    Jessie returned the smile. I wasn’t going to .
    She reluctantly followed Ms. Frey’s leisurely pace up the steps. They walked down a long wood-paneled hallway lined with large gilt-framed portraits of family members. Jessie despaired of ever reaching the “charity” room when Ms. Frey opened a door. Not a woman of many words, she motioned Jessie to sit in one of the overstuffed couches in the room, situated under a large window. She opened a closet and searched until Jessie became impatient.
    “I’m not picky,” she assured her.
    “Just wait your turn.”
    Jessie folded her arms and tapped her foot.
    Ms. Frey pulled out a flowery two-piece outfit, shimmering with glitter and rhinestones.
    Jessie grimaced. “Don’t you have anything less…colorful?”
    Ms. Frey laid the outfit on the bed. “This here outfit cost her eighteen hundred dollars,” she said in a rough voice