Her Foreign Affair by Shea Mcmaster Page A

brandy.”
    “Or both?”
    “Mmm. Good idea. Actually, I have another mixture you might like.”
    “Bring it on.” He stepped aside and bowed, waving his towel with a flourish.
    “Cocoa butter cream if you want some.” She indicated a container on the island.
    He enjoyed the view as she bent to retrieve the washing liquid from under the sink and tended to the dish machine. He loved watching her move about the house. Naked and moving about the house would be even better. Naked and moving on top of him—or under him, he wasn’t picky—would be best yet. Since she’d commented on his manicure, he took the hint and rubbed the lotion into his hands. Didn’t want rough dishpan hands causing the wrong kind of friction later. Then again, rubbing this lotion into strategic parts of her could create the proper heat.
    The music changed and he grinned. Taking Randi’s hand, he dragged her to the foyer where there was more room to dance.
    “No,” she protested, but weakly, as he grasped both of her hands in his.
    “Oh, yes.” He led her into the rhythm. “Remember the Romantics?”
    Randi groaned, but kept dancing to the lyrics about talking in her sleep, a most enchanting habit of hers, once upon a time. Probably still did and if given a chance to test it out, he’d take it. The kids poked their heads into the hall in time to see him spin her into his arms, then spin her out again, their own version of the swing.
    “Look at that, she can dance!” Birdie laughed from the edge of the foyer, Drew peering over her shoulder.
    “Yeah, yeah, the old lady can dance.” Randi’s breathless voice thrilled him right down to the bone, and he pulled her close.
    Had she never danced with Ferguson? For some reason that pleased him immensely. He couldn’t stand the thought of her dancing with anyone but him. They’d made magic when dancing. Magic so special it only happened once in a lifetime. “Yeah, she’s still got it.” Court laughed with the kids.
    Randi looked up at him, eyes large enough for him to sink into the sea of green. The memories were there, right at the surface.
    With the use of a favorite move, he pulled her close. “Yeah, darling,” he murmured for her ears only. “Whether you want me or not, you’ve still got me.”
     
     

Chapter 7
     
    The song came to an end and Randi laughed, using it as an excuse to step away from Court, her heart pumping as much from the exercise as being close to her old love. Dad killed the music, to the groans of Birdie and Drew, but Randi was grateful. She didn’t have the stamina for dancing anymore, and being in Court’s arms came close to stealing all her power to resist him. By the look in his eye, he knew it and heavily counted on her fading resistance. A quick stop in the kitchen to cram the remaining containers into the refrigerator bought her a few minutes while the kids plopped themselves down in front of the TV.
    Winded, Randi paused in the pass-through from the kitchen to the family room and assessed the positions of the occupants. Dad had his corner of the sofa nearest the fireplace with Birdie settling down beside him. Drew sat to her left, close, but not too close in response to a look from Dad. Jordan sat beyond the curve of the sectional. Sit beside him, or in her rocking chair in front of the fireplace on the far side of the room? What she really should do was wiggle in between the kids. Drew didn’t have his arm around Birdie—yet—although it was only a matter of time based on the way they smiled at each other.
    Court stood behind her, most likely waiting for her to decide where she was going to sit. The sound for the game moving out of half time was back on. Football had never looked so unappealing, but to scurry off to her corner in the reading nook would be rude. Not to mention, there was that situation with the kids.
    “What’s the proper Thanksgiving etiquette here?” Court’s breath tickled the side of her neck.
    “Kick the kids off the sofa