Being Yours
Connie understood about business.
Oh, yes, Connie would understand. What was less certain was that Brand would behave like a nice man.
Isabella scrubbed the mud off her face, touched her wrists with the scent of gardenias and squared her shoulders. When she returned to the living room she was smiling a small, brittle smile.
Brand had coffee ready on the table beside the sofa. He was sitting in the only armchair, a solid brown tweed wing-back, holding Connie on his knee while the two of them studied a book about a pink hippopotamus.
Bab Populer