places like that.”
“Wow,” he said, although he looked more disappointed than impressed. “I got the impression you still lived in Richmond but you must be based in Manhattan.”
She started to confirm his misconception, if only because it fit with the other delusions he had about her. She discovered she couldn’t tell him another lie, especially because she’d never even been to New York City.
“I do live in Richmond.” At his confused expression, she added, “It’s amazing how air travel can make our vast world such a small place.”
His blue eyes searched hers for long moments. She held her breath, waiting for him to yell out that she was phonier than the silicone pads she’d tucked into her bra. Instead that wide mouth of his grew wider, and he reached out to cup her cheek.
“Then I’m thankful the last plane you got on took you to Key West.” His voice lowered. “And to me.”
She was about to say air travel was so safe that more people were killed annually by donkeys than in plane crashes, but she couldn’t get the words past her suddenly dry lips.
She wet them and his gaze dropped, his blue eyes heating in the Florida sun. Although it was obvious from the way those eyes lingered on her that he found her attractive, he hadn’t tried to kiss her yet.
Correction. He found Leeza attractive. Lizabeth would never be seen in public in a short jungle-print sarong festooned with Toucan birds. Lizabeth wouldn’t have coordinated her yellow tank top to be an exact color match for the Toucan’s showy feathers. She wouldn’t wear a neckline that plunged deeply enough to show her cleavage.
Leeza was self-conscious about the breast-hugging shirt, too, but Leeza was savvy enough not to show it.
She tossed her head, as though she wasn’t the least bit disconcerted by his eyelock on her lips. “Shall we continue our stroll?”
He dropped his hand from her cheek. “Sure.”
Unable to bear not having any skin-to-skin contact with him, she took his bare forearm and willed her fingers to stop tingling. It wouldn’t do if he felt the vibrations.
Ahead of them, a small crowd blocked the sidewalk. A bare-chested young man, his long brown hair tied back in a ponytail, put his soul into his guitar music.
Because Grant might balk if Lizabeth suggested another go at jaywalking, she admired the hand-crafted jewelry in the window of a shop called Everything Under the Sea .
Mitch’s arms loosely circled her from behind. She hardly dared breathe in case he changed his mind and let her go. She was wearing her barely brunette hair in a sophisticated upsweep that her hairdresser had taught her and she felt his breath on the exposed skin of her neck.
“Leeza Drinkmiller,” he said, “I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”
Her pulse skittered and her breath caught, which was pretty much how she acted whenever Grant got this near. She should turn and smile at him, maybe say something flirtatious in return except she couldn’t find her voice.
In the window display, the jeweled eyes of a turtle designed to be worn as a broach seemed to mock her cowardice.
“Did you know some ancient people thought the Great Spirit built the Earth on the back of a giant turtle?”
Oh, no , she thought. Why did I say that?
“Can’t say that I did.” The breath from Mitch’s laugh wafted over her neck. “I never thought of turtles as being very strong.”
“Oh, they are. There’s a legend in India that the earth is held up by four elephants standing on the back of a turtle.”
“Who’s holding up the turtle?”
“A cobra. When any of the six move, the earth trembles and shakes. And, voila, you get an earthquake.”
“You don’t say,” Grant said and she heard the chuckle in his voice. What must he think of her? “Want to go inside?”
The jewelry on display inside the shop was an eclectic mix, from tasteful pieces in fourteen-carat gold to garish necklaces in an array of bright colors.
A
“Wow,” he said, although he looked more disappointed than impressed. “I got the impression you still lived in Richmond but you must be based in Manhattan.”
She started to confirm his misconception, if only because it fit with the other delusions he had about her. She discovered she couldn’t tell him another lie, especially because she’d never even been to New York City.
“I do live in Richmond.” At his confused expression, she added, “It’s amazing how air travel can make our vast world such a small place.”
His blue eyes searched hers for long moments. She held her breath, waiting for him to yell out that she was phonier than the silicone pads she’d tucked into her bra. Instead that wide mouth of his grew wider, and he reached out to cup her cheek.
“Then I’m thankful the last plane you got on took you to Key West.” His voice lowered. “And to me.”
She was about to say air travel was so safe that more people were killed annually by donkeys than in plane crashes, but she couldn’t get the words past her suddenly dry lips.
She wet them and his gaze dropped, his blue eyes heating in the Florida sun. Although it was obvious from the way those eyes lingered on her that he found her attractive, he hadn’t tried to kiss her yet.
Correction. He found Leeza attractive. Lizabeth would never be seen in public in a short jungle-print sarong festooned with Toucan birds. Lizabeth wouldn’t have coordinated her yellow tank top to be an exact color match for the Toucan’s showy feathers. She wouldn’t wear a neckline that plunged deeply enough to show her cleavage.
Leeza was self-conscious about the breast-hugging shirt, too, but Leeza was savvy enough not to show it.
She tossed her head, as though she wasn’t the least bit disconcerted by his eyelock on her lips. “Shall we continue our stroll?”
He dropped his hand from her cheek. “Sure.”
Unable to bear not having any skin-to-skin contact with him, she took his bare forearm and willed her fingers to stop tingling. It wouldn’t do if he felt the vibrations.
Ahead of them, a small crowd blocked the sidewalk. A bare-chested young man, his long brown hair tied back in a ponytail, put his soul into his guitar music.
Because Grant might balk if Lizabeth suggested another go at jaywalking, she admired the hand-crafted jewelry in the window of a shop called Everything Under the Sea .
Mitch’s arms loosely circled her from behind. She hardly dared breathe in case he changed his mind and let her go. She was wearing her barely brunette hair in a sophisticated upsweep that her hairdresser had taught her and she felt his breath on the exposed skin of her neck.
“Leeza Drinkmiller,” he said, “I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”
Her pulse skittered and her breath caught, which was pretty much how she acted whenever Grant got this near. She should turn and smile at him, maybe say something flirtatious in return except she couldn’t find her voice.
In the window display, the jeweled eyes of a turtle designed to be worn as a broach seemed to mock her cowardice.
“Did you know some ancient people thought the Great Spirit built the Earth on the back of a giant turtle?”
Oh, no , she thought. Why did I say that?
“Can’t say that I did.” The breath from Mitch’s laugh wafted over her neck. “I never thought of turtles as being very strong.”
“Oh, they are. There’s a legend in India that the earth is held up by four elephants standing on the back of a turtle.”
“Who’s holding up the turtle?”
“A cobra. When any of the six move, the earth trembles and shakes. And, voila, you get an earthquake.”
“You don’t say,” Grant said and she heard the chuckle in his voice. What must he think of her? “Want to go inside?”
The jewelry on display inside the shop was an eclectic mix, from tasteful pieces in fourteen-carat gold to garish necklaces in an array of bright colors.
A
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