Читать книгу Christmas Where They Belong - Marion Lennox, Marion Lennox - Страница 2

She might have known he’d come.

Dear heaven, he was beautiful. He was tall, almost lanky, still boyish even though he must be—what?—thirty-six by now?

He had the same blond-brown hair that looked perpetually as if he spent too much time in the sun. He had the same flop of cowlick that perpetually hung a bit too long—no hairdresser believed it wouldn’t stay where it was put. He was wearing his normal casual clothes: moleskins, with a soft linen shirt rolled up at the sleeves and open at the throat.

He was wearing the same smile in the caramel-brown eyes she remembered. He was smiling at her now. A bit wary. Not sure of his reception.

She hadn’t seen him for four years and he was wary. She didn’t know where to start. Where to begin after all this time.

Why not say it like it was?

“I don’t think I am Julie,” she said slowly, feeling lost. “At least, I’m not sure I’m the Julie you know.”