Matched by Moonlight. Gina Wilkins
“I’m just not the romantic type.”
“No?”
“No,” she whispered.
Dan leaned his head down to hers as he studied her, his smile so close to her mouth that her parted lips longed to taste it. God, Kinley thought dazedly, when was the last time she’d sat in the gardens with a man who made her toes curl?
Much, much too long ago.
She rested her hands on his shoulders, fingers flexing into the muscles there. “This is not at all like me,” she assured him. “And in a few minutes I’m going to leave this bench, go home and attend to some work matters before I get any rest tonight. But first …”
And because this night seemed to have a touch of magic in the air, she covered his rogue’s smile with her lips. Just a taste, she promised herself. After the past few hours together, she didn’t think he’d mind too badly.
The eager way his arms went around her proved he didn’t mind in the least.
* * *
Bride Mountain: Where a trip down the aisle is never far away …
Matched by
Moonlight
Gina Wilkins
GINA WILKINS is a bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than seventy novels for Mills & Boon. She credits her successful career in romance to her long, happy marriage and her three “extraordinary” children.
A lifelong resident of central Arkansas, Ms Wilkins sold her first book to Mills & Boon in 1987 and has been writing full-time since. She has appeared on the Waldenbooks, B. Dalton and USA TODAY bestseller lists. She is a three-time recipient of a Maggie Award for Excellence, sponsored by Georgia Romance Writers, and has won several awards from the reviewers of RT Book Reviews.
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In special memory of my book-loving mother, a lifelong Harlequin fan. One of her favorite verses was, “I will lift up my eyes unto the hills, from which cometh my strength.” She passed along her love of both romance and the mountains to me.
Contents
Chapter One
Early-morning fog danced in wispy tendrils outside the bay window of the breakfast nook, making the rural, southwestern Virginia landscape resemble a dreamy watercolor. Leaning against the cherry window frame, Kinley Carmichael sipped cinnamon-laced coffee and studied the pink-and-gray sunrise framed by lace curtains. Her sentimental younger sister, Bonnie, would see that lovely spring view and sigh, thinking of fairy tales and romance. Practical and pragmatic Kinley saw an excellent photo-op for the Bride Mountain Inn website. In fact, maybe tomorrow morning she’d head out early with her camera in hopes of capturing a similar scene for advertising purposes, aiming to appeal to potential guests looking for quiet relaxation in pristine, natural surroundings...just the ambiance the inn aimed to provide.
She almost laughed when the wistful sigh she’d predicted sounded from behind her. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Bonnie asked in little more than a whisper, her tone almost reverent. “Even after living here just over two years, I never get tired of seeing that view first thing in the morning.”
“That view would make a perfect cover for a marketing brochure. I’m considering going out in the morning with my camera to try to capture it.”
Bonnie gave her a teasingly chiding look. “You can’t capture magic, Kinley.”
“I can try,” she answered cheerily. “And then I’ll do my best to package and sell it.”
Bonnie’s second sigh was more resigned than romanticized. With her blond hair, blue eyes and flawless skin, she looked a bit like a porcelain doll and had the perfect, petite figure to match. She wore her favored uniform of a pretty, lace-trimmed top and a gauzy skirt, adding to her vaguely old-world appeal. Her delicate appearance and openly sentimental nature led some people to think she was meek and easily pushed around. Those people were wrong. Behind that sweet face was a sharp mind and a fierce resolve that both her siblings could attest to. Though she was the youngest, it was wholly due to Bonnie’s determination and insistence that the three of them were now running the bed-and-breakfast together.
As close as they were, the two sisters had always been very different in nature. Even their choice of clothing illustrated those dissimilarities, Kinley thought fondly. In contrast to Bonnie’s soft, floaty garments, Kinley wore gray slacks with a gray-and-white shell and a pearl-gray three-quarter-sleeve cardigan suitable for the cool spring morning. Bonnie had once accused her of dressing as if she were always expecting an impromptu business meeting, and Kinley supposed that was accurate enough. But her tailored style suited her just fine.
Peering out the window again, Bonnie nodded toward a particularly foggy patch in the garden, near the tall, graceful fountain. “Look at the way the fog swirls just there, almost as if it’s alive. Do you think if you set your camera on a tripod and used a very slow lens speed, you’d catch a peek of the bride hiding in the mist?”
Kinley glanced automatically toward the open kitchen doorway, making sure no guests had overheard her sister’s fanciful speculation. “Don’t even joke about that. You know how I feel about that old legend being connected to the inn.”
“You have no whimsy,