Read Beauty & the Beasts for Free Online

tiny bit impatient. Petty of him maybe, but he wanted to be the one behind the wheel, to have some sense of control.
    “Petty” wasn’t the word. “Adolescent” came closer, he realized with a flash of amusement. Nonetheless, he unlocked the canopy of his truck and slid the box in. After locking the canopy again, he gestured toward the open passenger door.
    “Madam, your chariot.”
    He was looking forward to seeing her hitching that tight skirt up enough to clamber into the truck. He had been so distracted by her deliciously long legs and the tantalizing curves just above them that he’d missed half of what she’d told him on their tour. To his disappointment, she ascended now with a ladylike grace and modesty that avoided exposing even another inch of those legs, clad in hose he’d have bet his last dollar was silk.
    He slammed her door, shook his head—win some,lose some—and circled to the driver’s side, where he levered himself up easily onto the high seat. Starting the engine, he asked, “Where would you like to eat?”
    “I like almost anything.” Her nose crinkled, and a flash of mischief wiped away the Ice Queen image. “The starchier and fattier the better.”
    “You mean, you’re not a fan of tofu and lentils?”
    “I like those, too.” She grinned unabashedly. “But I like Italian better. And Chinese and Thai and deep-fried fish and chips, and pizza and designer ice cream. So far, my cholesterol has stayed low—good genes—and I haven’t worried.”
    He’d meant to avoid any remarks that might suggest flattery, but now he couldn’t help it. “A woman with your figure doesn’t diet?” he said incredulously. “My ex-wife counted calories in her sleep.”
    “I guess I’m lucky.” Madeline looked down at her long legs, demurely crossed, and a small frown touched her face. “I’d rather not be overweight.” Damned if she didn’t sound doubtful.
    Eric studied her curiously. What the hell was going on in that beautiful head? Every woman he’d ever met would kill to look like she did! He had to be misinterpreting, not hearing the profound gratitude she must feel at being able to eat however she wanted and not put on pounds.
    His curiosity went beyond the idle; he vowed he’d find out even if it required the patience of a cat waiting for a mouse to emerge from a woodpile.
    “How about Gianni’s, then?” he suggested. “You can clog a few arteries with fettuccine Alfredo.”
    “Sounds good to me. If you like Italian.”
    “Only thing I don’t eat is raw fish.” He released the emergency brake and looked over his shoulder to back out. “Although in the interests of avoiding a heart attack at forty, I do watch the fat content.”
    “How far away is forty?” A smile enriched her voice. “Or is it rude to ask?”
    “Not if you’ll answer the same question.” He didn’t mind finding out that she was curious about him on a personal level. “I’m thirty-eight.”
    “Thirty-one,” Madeline said promptly.
    Older than she looked with that smooth skin. Eric was just as glad. He was starting to feel uncomfortably as if women much under thirty might well be from another generation. If they were closer in age to Garth than him, he figured he wouldn’t have much in common with them.
    As he turned toward Everett, they passed the Forland farm on the right; with an approving eye Eric scanned the peacefully grazing herd. A three-generation concern, it had a lower incidence of infection and disease than any other dairy farm around. As a result the Forlands were less profitable to their vet, but it wasn’t as if he and Teresa weren’t plenty busy, and he liked to see things done right.
    “You take care of their cows?” Madeline asked, apparently noticing his interest.
    Next thing he knew, she’d asked pointed enough questions to get him talking about mechanical feeding systems, the design of loafing sheds and the evils of manure ponds.
    They were on the trestle crossing the river