Читать книгу Three Blind-Date Brides: Nine-to-Five Bride - Melissa McClone - Страница 18

MARISSA gathered her things into a carryall. Her father bundled some more things in on top for Rick to use and, with a murmured word of thanks, Rick drove them the short distance to the end of the street.

He pulled to a stop before an unpretentious home with a large front garden and larger back garden. Mrs Brill had walked ahead of them and took them straight through to the back, where the garage sat surrounded by a swing set and a collection of children’s toys and bikes and other things.

‘Thank you. This is very kind.’ Marissa managed to choke out the words without looking at Rick at all. Mrs Brill was kind, and Marissa appreciated the hospitality. She just couldn’t imagine her multi-millionaire boss, with his city central penthouse apartment with all mod cons, here.

‘You’re welcome, love. You even have your own shower and loo.’ Their hostess disappeared with a wave.

Rick unlocked the converted garage, flipped the light switch and they stepped inside.

The room had a square of someone’s old carpet slung over a concrete floor, unlined walls covered in dartboards and fishing paraphernalia, and a sofa that converted. A pile of bedding and two bath towels sat waiting on it.

A door to the right opened into a second room.

Marissa bit her lip. ‘It’s probably not what you’re used to, but it was very good of Mrs Brill.’

‘It’s fine, and it was very generous of her.’ Rick set the bag down on the floor and tossed a can of deodorant in on top that he’d taken from the glove compartment of his car.

‘I don’t know what Dad’s put in the bag for you.’ For no clear reason, Marissa’s face heated and she looked everywhere but into Rick’s eyes.

She hadn’t thought too much about their accommodation until now, and was realising that it could feel a little awkward for a whole other lot of reasons.

The moment the thought rose so did her consciousness of him.

‘Toothbrush, disposable razor, a pair of boxer shorts still in their wrapping, T-shirt, and the ugliest pair of long john style pyjamas I’ve ever seen.’ Rick’s tone deepened as he spoke those last words, as his gaze met with hers and held.

‘Dad usually wears a T-shirt and boxers to bed. Maybe he wasn’t thinking straight.’ She spoke the words with a hint of confusion, felt far more as her senses began to respond to Rick’s nearness, to the intensity that had risen in his gaze.

‘He’s your father. He was thinking perfectly.’ Rick turned abruptly towards the second room. ‘I’d better set up the camp-bed so we can both get some sleep. Mrs Brill said it hasn’t been used since she bought it.’