Read Finding Miss McFarland for Free Online

had crossed in the park, she wore it tied into a chaotic sort of queue that went midway down her back. The ends of a fat periwinkle ribbon knotted with the curls. Absently, he wondered if she would brush out the tangles as soon as she returned home or if she would wait until the end of the evening when she was in bed . . .
    The errant thought startled him. The last thing he expected to imagine was the infamous Miss McFarland in such an intimate setting. She wasn’t the sort that typically incited a man’s lust. A man wanted curves he could mold with his hands and a mouth he could plunder. As he’d noted yesterday, Miss McFarland possessed a rather small bosom and mouth. Small and yet . . . captivating.
    Gradually, the strands of the conversation he’d walked in on drew his attention, providing him momentary relief.
    “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate meeting with you today and beg forgiveness for dropping by unannounced,” the tousled Miss McFarland said, shaking his mother’s hand. “I simply felt it was a matter of urgency and wanted to explain in person.”
    This piqued his interest. What pressing matter could have brought her here, of all places?
    “Of course, dear.” His mother patted her hand, not once revealing his presence in the doorway. “But as I said, I think that event has long been forgotten.”
    Ah. Now he understood.
    “You are too kind. After coming here today to decline an invitation, I feel as if I don’t deserve the warm welcome you’ve given me. Even though an hour has passed, it seemed mere minutes to me,” Miss McFarland offered graciously. “Not to mention, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a more cheerful parlor. The colors you’ve chosen are so inviting that I find it difficult to take my leave.”
    “With such praise, I might have to insist you stay until supper,” his mother said with a laugh.
    This exchange brought to mind the list his sisters had mentioned yesterday, of all the ways a young woman invites a man’s attention. Something to do with remarking on the mother’s sense of style to earn an invitation . Then, there was also the compliment she’d given him about his skillful bonnet rescue. He stared, baffled. Did Miss McFarland have marital designs on him? No. It couldn’t be true.
    “Thank you again for the fine cake,” Miss McFarland said. “It was the most delicious confection I’ve ever had. I do hope your cook will share the recipe with mine someday soon.”
    “I’ll ask Mrs. Shortingham to send it this afternoon.” His mother beamed. “It’s Griffin’s favorite as well.”
    Distracted, only now did he notice the empty platter and the dark crumbs on the six plates scattered on tables about the room. Apparently, gingerbread was a favorite of his sisters too. Was that truly was the last of it? On his birthday? His stomach grumbled in protest.
    “Isn’t that right, dear?” his mother asked, acknowledging him for the first time.
    “Mr. Croft!” Miss McFarland turned so swiftly that her skirts bumped into the low table, knocking over a blue vase of daffodils. Golden flowers shot out amidst a spray of water as the vase clattered against the serving fork, sending it on a path toward a bowl of frothy whipped cream. The bowl turned end over end, splattering cream along the way until it finally ended up facedown on the carpet.
    “ Blast ,” she cursed under her breath.
    For reasons beyond his understanding, he took unaccountable delight in startling Miss McFarland. Stranger still, he found himself beguiled and intrigued by her. As he knew from the moment they’d met, Delaney McFarland was a catastrophe waiting to happen. Why this pleased him today, when it certainly hadn’t before, he had no idea.
    He sprang into action and rounded the table just as Miss McFarland bent down. She was frantically putting the flowers back into the vase and even trying to capture the water as the apologies tumbled from her lips.
    “Mrs. Croft, I’m so sorry.