LEAD ME ON Julie Ortolon (mind reading books .TXT) 📖

out stories, he created them. She glanced toward the ceiling and wondered when he would come down for breakfast.

Breakfast! Snapping out of her haze, she picked up the orange juice, slipped the note into her apron pocket, and hurried back toward the dining room.

As if her thoughts had conjured him, Scott was coming down the stairs as she entered the hall. He wore a dark print, short-sleeved shirt tucked into black shorts. She stopped for a moment, wondering how he could possibly be more devastating to the senses than he’d been yesterday.

Breathe, she told herself. And stop being such a ninny. “Mr. Lawrence?”

He stopped on the last step, which made him seem that much taller as she approached. “Scott,” he said, correcting her.

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” She fished the note out of her apron. “I have a phone message for you. From Hugh Ashton.”

“Well, that didn’t take long.” He took the sheet of paper she handed him without even glancing at the message.

“What didn’t take long?”

“Nothing.” He folded the paper several times and stuffed it into the pocket of his shorts.

“Aren’t you going to read it? He said it was very important.”

“I’m sure he did. Am I too early for breakfast?”

“No, not at all.” She frowned, wondering if she should just tell him what it said. The agent had made the message sound so crucial... but it wasn’t her place to get involved in guests’ private business, she reminded herself. Forcing aside her avid curiosity, she gestured to the dining room. “If you’ll follow me.”

Chapter 3

Irritation tightened Scott’s jaw as he followed Allison into the dining room. Calls from his agent hadn’t always put him in a sour mood. In fact, he used to enjoy them. That, however, was before Hugh started calling every morning to say “So, did you get any writing done yesterday?” Did the man actually think daily prodding would help? And what was the point of leaving town to relax if Hugh was going to track him down and remind him of why he was stressed out in the first place?

He gave his shoulders a subtle roll to loosen them and turned his attention to something far more pleasant: the delightful view Allison presented as she walked in front of him. The shorts covered more thigh than he’d prefer, but they hugged her narrow waist and shapely behind very nicely.

“We serve breakfast buffet-style.” She glanced back to explain. “Would you like me to pour you some orange juice while you grab a plate?”

“No, coffee will be fine,” he said as he scanned the room. If his luck was turning, there would be some jaded but delectable creature among the other guests. Instead, he saw an elderly couple at the far end of the table where morning sunlight poured in through the windows. So much for his luck changing.

As for the room, they seemed to have made the fewest changes here, but then there hadn’t been as much to change. The massive table and chairs had been there during his clandestine visit all those years before and he suspected they were original to the house. Their carvings of sea serpents and mermaids matched the molding that crowned the paneling.

The fresco on the ceiling depicted Neptune riding the waves in a giant shell drawn by sea horses as if charging to attack whoever entered the room. Scott didn’t have to work his imagination much to see the formidable Henri LeRoche—with black hair and hawkish features—sitting in the thronelike chair at the head of the table. By all accounts, he’d liked to “hold court” over the rough seafaring men who had carried cargo for his shipping company.

“Rory, Chance,” Allison said, distracting him. “You haven’t met our new guest. This is Scott. Scott, my sister, Aurora, and her husband, Oliver Chancellor.”

Scott turned toward the built-in sideboard, to find a young couple he hadn’t noticed. His automatic greeting stuck in his throat along with surprise when he caught sight of Allison’s sister. The two women looked nothing alike. Allison had a quiet beauty that whispered seductively to a man. The sister was a vision to incite wars. Helen of Troy. Tall with glowing skin and long golden-red curls. Unfortunately she was also pregnant. Very pregnant. And married to the skinny blond guy beside her.

“Good morning.” The golden goddess wiggled her fingers in welcome. “Scott Lawrence, right?”

Scott nodded, but wished he’d had the forethought to ask them not to tell the other guests who he was.

“And this is Colonel Arthur Grubbs and his wife, Elsie, from Chicago,” Allison continued, motioning to the older couple.

“Pleased to meet you.” The woman smiled at him, with no flicker of recognition. Scott sighed in relief.

“Help yourself to as much breakfast as you want,” Oliver Chancellor told him. “There’s always plenty to go around.”

“I’ll do that.” Scott nodded.

“Alli, if you have things covered here, we’ll go help Adrian in the kitchen,” the sister said.

“I’m fine.”

As the two left the room, Scott crossed to the sideboard and found an amazing spread of food that sent his salivary glands into overdrive. Grabbing an antique china plate, he started down the line.

“Scott Lawrence...” Colonel Grubbs tested the name, and Scott’s shoulders sagged in disappointment as he realized his relief had come too soon. “Any relation to the famous writer?”

Resigned, Scott glanced back at the man. “One and the same.”

“Weeell,” the colonel said, his bushy black brows rising toward his white crew cut. “This is an honor. I’ve read a book or two of yours, even though I normally prefer historical novels, Pearl Harbor, Civil War, you know, real books. In fact”—he pointed his fork at Scott—“I have an idea for a story based on my own experience in Korea that would be a surefire best-seller. If only I could find the time to sit down and write it.”

Scott nodded gravely. “Yeah, I know what you mean. The lack of a free weekend keeps more blockbuster bestsellers from being written than you can imagine.”

When Allison