Читать книгу The Billionaire's Bride - Jackie Braun - Страница 11

J.T. WAS scowling when he opened his door. He wore a long-sleeved lightweight pullover with a discreet designer insignia embroidered on the front and a pair of faded jeans in deference to the temperature dip. But his feet, tanned and the tops sprinkled with golden hair, were bare.

He leaned against the jamb and crossed his arms. “Come to apologize?”

Marnie had, thinking that might be the best way to wheedle a shower out of him, but she would be damned if she was going to now and have him believe she had somehow been shamed into it.

“Peace offering,” she said instead, holding out the chips and wine.

He didn’t invite her inside. He came out instead and closed the door firmly behind him before she could glimpse much of the interior. Still, she wondered, had those countertops been made of granite or marble? His place definitely was a huge step up from hers and Marisa had said he owned it.

“Are you coming?”

She watched one sandy eyebrow lift, as if he were daring her to comment or ask a question. She swallowed both.

“Lead the way,” she said instead.

A small wicker table and chairs took up most of a small patio on the side of the house that faced the ocean. J.T. accepted her gifts and headed toward it, turning his chair so that he was looking at the water when he sat.

The sun had almost set. It was but an orange glow melting onto the ocean’s relatively calm surface. And if not for the light that spilled from between the blind slats of the window behind him, Marnie might not have been able to make out his expression. But she could. His jaw was firmly clenched, as if her presence irritated him. He didn’t exactly invite her to sit and join him, but she did anyway.

“So, how long are you down here for?” she asked conversationally as she settled into her chair. She could hear her mother’s voice in her ear: A polite host or guest doesn’t monopolize the conversation but tries to get others to talk about themselves.

Clearly J.T.’s mother had made no admonition. At his glare, Marnie sighed.

“Oh, that’s right. You can ask questions, but apparently I’m not allowed to. I’ve got to tell you, J.T., given your attitude, it’s really no wonder that you vacation alone.”

If he was insulted, it didn’t show. “And what’s your reason?”