Read Her Man Upstairs for Free Online

plus all furnishings, including the baby grand piano she didn’t play, the art collection she never bothered to look at and a bunch of custom-made furniture designed not for comfort but to impress.
    With the help of a good lawyer, Cole had managed to keep his boat, his old Guild guitar, his fishing gear and roughly half his investments—which was all he really needed. He considered himself damn lucky to walk away with that much.
    Now he looked around for a place to set his supper. The fold-down table was covered with fishing tackle. He made room for the take-out plate and a cold beer, shucked off his shoes and slid onto the bench. To say his living quarters were compact was putting it generously, but then, he didn’tneed much space. The wet slip, utilities included, cost a lot less than he’d been paying at his old place on the Chesapeake Bay.
    He turned on the twelve-inch TV and caught up on the news while he ate. When the talking heads turned to the latest celebrity trial, Cole’s thoughts drifted back to the woman he’d just met. After hearing about the job prospect from Bob Ed and his lady, Ms. Beasley—mostly from the lady—he hadn’t known what to expect. Julia Roberts with big gray eyes and a brown squirrel’s nest dripping down her back didn’t fit the image he’d conjured up when he’d spoken with her briefly on the phone.
    When she’d asked to see his references, he’d mentioned Bob Ed.
    â€œAny reason why I should trust your word?” she’d asked.
    The answer, of course, was that she shouldn’t—but if she didn’t know it, he wasn’t about to tell her. If he’d learned one thing from the mess he’d been involved in over the past eighteen months, it was to listen to his instincts.
    And right now his internal weather vane was telling him there was more at stake here than just a chance to see if he could still do the work. Without bothering to think further, he grabbed a paper napkin and started listing the tools he’d need to buy.
    Halfway through the list his mind began to wander, distracted by thoughts of a pair of gray eyes, and the way they could go so quickly from suspicion to amusement to…interest?

Three
    S asha showed up for breakfast with a box of Krispy Kremes and a copy of Architectural Digest. “Check out page sixty-eight and think about the color scheme for your front room. I’m headed to Norfolk—just thought I’d stop by on my way.” Her cheeks were pink from exposure to the damp, cold air, her eyes avid for anything that even hinted at romance.
    While Marty was still trying to nudge her brain awake, her early morning visitor planted beringed fists on her rounded hips and said, “Let’s hear it. Start from the first and don’t leave out anything. If he’s as prime as Faylene says he is, we might want to add him to our list. Is he taller than five-ten? Because Lily Sullivan over on Chelsea Circle is at least that. She towers over me, even in my new green Jimmys. I’m thinking of finding someone shorter to do my taxes. It’s bad enough to be intimidated by the IRAwithout—” She blinked a battery of fake lashes and said plaintively, “Wha-a-at? Oh, Lord, you’re still sleepwalking, aren’t you.”
    Still wading through her usual morning fog, Marty refused to be intimidated by the five-foot-three-inch steamroller. “Look, I’ve got a date with a dog, so make this fast. Exactly what do you mean by ‘prime,’ and what difference does it make what he looks like?”
    â€œActually, none, I guess. We just thought—that is, Faye said—and I was thinking that if he was going to be hanging around long enough to destroy your second floor and put it back together again, he might like to join in a few social activities. You know what they say, ‘all work and no play’?”
    Marty sighed. “It bugs you,