Read Against Her Rules for Free Online Page A

now.
      “I’m
sure Aunt Ida would appreciate it. You want me to call her in? She stayed home
this morning.”
      “Would
you? A man has needs, after all.”
      “Ew.
You are a dirty man.”
      “You
don’t know the half of it,” he said, moving closer to her.
      She
backed away. “Go to your cabin and get warm. I’ll pack a lunch and bring it
down. I have some posters made up that I’ll show you as well. If you’re fine
with them, I’ll get them put up in the post office and at Mercer’s Store.”
      “You’re
an angel,” he said before leaving. “And I’m not joking about that, my sweetheart.”
      Sweetheart. Her heart quickened. But she was okay. She had learned to control herself.
The danger zone was a thing of the past.
    ––––––––
      T wenty
minutes later she wondered if she’d been too rash in her assertion. Cam had
answered the door in jeans and an unbuttoned flannel plaid shirt. His hair was
wet, and the cottage had a warm, damp smell only a steaming shower could leave
behind. Sandalwood clung to the air.
      “I
hope whatever’s in that basket is hot,” he said, bending down to toss a few
pieces of birch on the fire. His jeans, which didn’t look that tight when he
was upright, stretched taut over his firm butt. It was a thing of beauty.
      Reluctantly
she pulled her gaze from his rear-end and laid the basket on the counter. Cream
of potato and bacon soup, grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches, and a
still-warm partridgeberry tart soon covered the small table.
      He
tore into the meal as if he hadn’t eaten in days. “Mmmm,” he mumbled. There was
more to the sentence but all she could pick out was hot, and good. She also
thought she heard something about trout. Or he might have said clout. It was
anybody’s guess.
      “I
don’t know what you were thinking, coming here in November to do this. Most
people who need to do anything outside wait until it’s warm—like July. Or
August. Although this has been a weird year for weather. We almost had a real
spring, and summer.”
      He
mumbled something else as he stuffed a sandwich dipped in soup into his mouth.
      “There
is no point talking to you right now, is there?”
      A
dopey smile was all she received in response. Well, at least the man
appreciated a good meal.
      “Are
you going to eat all that?” He nodded towards her sandwich.
      “Help
yourself,” she laughed.
      “Tell
your chef this is the best lunch I’ve ever had,” he said as he stuffed the
entire remainder of her sandwich into his mouth.
      “Thanks.”
      “You
made this?”
      “I
sure did. I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”
      “That’s
more than evident. And for the record, pretty isn’t the correct adjective for
your face.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin.
      Ignore
him , she commanded herself.
      “Would
you like to see the poster for your talk?”
      “You
can try and change the topic all you want, but that doesn’t mean I will. I’ve
spent a lot of time these past couple of days trying to come up with just the
right word to describe you. I’ve got it narrowed down to a short list.” He
pushed his plate away, all indications of hunger—at least for his meal—gone.
      “I’m
no graphic designer or anything, but I think they look good. I’ll get the
mock-up. You should keep eating.”
      She
got up from the table to get the paper she had folded in her pocket.
      “Stunning.
Alluring. Captivating.” He drew each word out, pausing between them, making
each one sound more wicked.
      His
chair scraped on the floor. She didn’t turn, but could tell he was moving
towards her.
      “Mischievous.
Secretive. Mesmerizing.”
      What
was she going to do? The room seemed much smaller than it had a scant few
moments ago. The air was thick with that ever so irresistible scent of him.
      “So
many words and yet none of them really do you justice.” He was standing behind
her now. She could feel his