Enemy Lovers Read Free Page A

she managed—no— once she scored a job, she’d continue to save and indulge her yearning for travel to exotic destinations. While she’d traveled with her family, one didn’t see much of a foreign country from a resort.
    The spare room held a double bed and a wooden dresser. It was small but adequate. Laura wandered over to study the view from the window. Darkness had arrived early because of the rain, and she couldn’t see much apart from the skeleton limbs of a tree.
    Sighing, she pulled the curtains closed to shut out the night and cold. She drew off her woolen jersey and decided to change into her sweats. Not glamorous or sexy, but warm and comfortable—they’d broadcast a mixed message to Mr. Dallas O’Grady.
    Congratulating herself on the last minute impulse to throw them in her bag, she stripped off the rest of her damp clothes. This was an unheard of opportunity, and she’d have her way with Dallas or tenacious wasn’t her middle name.
    Ten minutes later, she wandered back to the kitchen.
    A fire crackled in the grate, and Dallas had changed into a well-worn pair of jeans and a white cable jersey. Now he stood in the kitchen, squeezing lemons. “Take a seat by the fire.”
    His words were a command, even though he hadn’t so much as glanced over his shoulder. Laura was used to orders. Her mother, her father, her older siblings—they shot them at her with machine-gun precision. And out of principle, she went out of her way to disobey whenever practical.
    Today, she hovered on the spot, cataloguing her feelings about his arrogant manner. She found herself smiling.
    Interesting .
    Something deep inside made her want to please him, to call forth his approval and hopefully one of his blinding smiles—for her eyes only.
    Okay .
    A seat by the fire it was.
    She glided toward the hearth and sank to the floor. The flames flickered with vitality, an invisible power—a little like the coil of energy tucked deep inside her heart. She would fling off the fetters of parental management. Slowly, slowly . She couldn’t continue to live this way without resentment eating away her soul.
    â€œHere, drink this,” Dallas said, handing her a steaming mug. “It’ll warm you up.”
    A citrus scent grabbed her when she took a sip. Whiskey burned down her throat when she swallowed. She coughed, spluttered, shot him a look. “What is this?”
    Dallas sent her a lazy grin and joined her by the fire. He sprawled back on a dark green couch, his drink in hand. “It’s Irish whiskey toddy. My grandmother swears by them to keep away winter ails. We sell a lot at the pub during the cooler weather. What do you think?”
    â€œNice, although it’s probably not so good on an empty stomach.”
    The faint tinge of Irish in his voice brought the urge to shiver, the urge to ask a question to hear it again, the desperate urge to reach out, to touch. Her family bore Irish roots too, but they’d worked hard to shed every hint of their motherland.
    â€œDon’t worry,” he said. “I’ll feed you soon.”
    â€œI thought cooking was allocated to me.”
    â€œWe’ll take turns. You can do breakfast.” He surveyed her face, his eyes narrowing a fraction, head cocking to the side. “Why don’t you come and sit up here by me?” His voice lowered to a silky drawl.
    The core of power inside her pulsated, echoed in her lady parts. “Do you bite?”
    â€œYes.” His eyes took on a predatory light. “But it won’t hurt a bit.”
    Despite herself, her chuckle held a smidgeon of unease, and she saw he recognized her burst of anxiety. He didn’t say a word more, merely sipped his toddy and watched her like a sharp-eyed predator while she struggled with her instinct to flee.
    No point exchanging one prison for another. But this was for the weekend—one, maybe two days. Although she