thigh pressed against mine and I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. Yep, I’m pretty sure sparks ignited.
“It’s just visualization. Like in chess. I can usually see at least three or four moves ahead.”
“Fascinating.” He nuzzled my ear. “Did I happen to mention I love a woman with a quick mind?”
His voice sounded husky, sensual and very Irish. Every nerve in my body stood at full attention. At the same time, I made a mental note to buy a half dozen Rubik’s Cubes and place them strategically around my office and apartment. Maybe I’d stuff one down my bra for good measure.
“Ah…it’s nothing, really,” I said. “I can show you how to do it, if you’d like.”
He moved his lips to my neck and kissed me there. “I’d like that,” he murmured, his mouth hot against my skin.
Oh. My. God. My body was on fire. Finn’s lips were taking their time moving up to my chin and I knew he’d be seriously kissing me any moment. What if I disappointed him? What if having a quick mind couldn’t make up for a horrible lack of kissing experience? I also wasn’t sure where I should put my hands. Should I put them around his neck or his shoulders or would either of those be too forward? I didn’t want him to think I was too easy. But then again, I had no idea how to play hard-to-get.
What I needed was the proper protocol here. Why hadn’t I researched methods of kissing before? Then I could memorize all the steps and apply them as the situation arose. Jeez, how did people figure this stuff out without Google? I sincerely hoped the answer wasn’t instinct because it was painfully clear I had none.
I was saved from any decision where to put my hands because the limo abruptly pulled to a stop in front of a curb. To my enormous disappointment, Finn stopped nuzzling my neck and looked out the window.
“Damn,” he breathed. “We’re here, lass.” He reached across me and opened the door.
I tried to calm my breathing and act casual, like good-looking guys kissed my neck every day. I wriggled to the door, trying to figure how to get out without ripping or falling out of my spandex-squeezing gown. Thankfully, the driver gallantly stepped up and stretched out a hand.
“Careful now, madame,” he warned.
Like, duh. What did he think I was doing?
When he saw me just sitting there trying to mathematically calculate the safest move, he grabbed my hand and pulled hard. I guess he had some experience at rescuing spandex-clad women from limos because, to my great relief, I exited the limo with dress intact and Finn following close behind. He took aside the driver and slipped him something.
Finn had just rejoined me on the curb when a stocky man with blond-streaked hair tied back into a ponytail came out to meet us at the curb. A cigarette dangled between his lips and he was dressed in a black suit with a white turtleneck and tennis shoes.
“Well, Finn, ye ole dog.” He smacked Finn hard on the back. “Damn good to see ye, mate. How’s the form?”
“Just grand, Colin. And you?”
“Brilliant,” he said and then his gaze settled on me. He gave me a long and thorough perusal and then grinned. “Who’s the lass?”
“Let me introduce you to Lexi Carmichael,” Finn said, his hand still resting in the small of my back. He pushed me a little bit forward. “Lexi, this is Colin Kelley, owner of the Shamrock Gallery.”
I noticed that Finn’s voice had immediately changed to a full-blown Irish lilt upon our arrival and it made me smile. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said to Colin.
To my surprise, Colin snatched my hand and pressed it to his lips for what I thought was an inordinate amount of time. “So, an American lass,” he murmured against my skin. “That’s a surprise.”
I wasn’t so sure what was surprising about that, but before I could say anything, Finn spoke up.
“Colin and I go way back.” He extracted my hand from Colin’s lips. “We’ve been friends since primary
“It’s just visualization. Like in chess. I can usually see at least three or four moves ahead.”
“Fascinating.” He nuzzled my ear. “Did I happen to mention I love a woman with a quick mind?”
His voice sounded husky, sensual and very Irish. Every nerve in my body stood at full attention. At the same time, I made a mental note to buy a half dozen Rubik’s Cubes and place them strategically around my office and apartment. Maybe I’d stuff one down my bra for good measure.
“Ah…it’s nothing, really,” I said. “I can show you how to do it, if you’d like.”
He moved his lips to my neck and kissed me there. “I’d like that,” he murmured, his mouth hot against my skin.
Oh. My. God. My body was on fire. Finn’s lips were taking their time moving up to my chin and I knew he’d be seriously kissing me any moment. What if I disappointed him? What if having a quick mind couldn’t make up for a horrible lack of kissing experience? I also wasn’t sure where I should put my hands. Should I put them around his neck or his shoulders or would either of those be too forward? I didn’t want him to think I was too easy. But then again, I had no idea how to play hard-to-get.
What I needed was the proper protocol here. Why hadn’t I researched methods of kissing before? Then I could memorize all the steps and apply them as the situation arose. Jeez, how did people figure this stuff out without Google? I sincerely hoped the answer wasn’t instinct because it was painfully clear I had none.
I was saved from any decision where to put my hands because the limo abruptly pulled to a stop in front of a curb. To my enormous disappointment, Finn stopped nuzzling my neck and looked out the window.
“Damn,” he breathed. “We’re here, lass.” He reached across me and opened the door.
I tried to calm my breathing and act casual, like good-looking guys kissed my neck every day. I wriggled to the door, trying to figure how to get out without ripping or falling out of my spandex-squeezing gown. Thankfully, the driver gallantly stepped up and stretched out a hand.
“Careful now, madame,” he warned.
Like, duh. What did he think I was doing?
When he saw me just sitting there trying to mathematically calculate the safest move, he grabbed my hand and pulled hard. I guess he had some experience at rescuing spandex-clad women from limos because, to my great relief, I exited the limo with dress intact and Finn following close behind. He took aside the driver and slipped him something.
Finn had just rejoined me on the curb when a stocky man with blond-streaked hair tied back into a ponytail came out to meet us at the curb. A cigarette dangled between his lips and he was dressed in a black suit with a white turtleneck and tennis shoes.
“Well, Finn, ye ole dog.” He smacked Finn hard on the back. “Damn good to see ye, mate. How’s the form?”
“Just grand, Colin. And you?”
“Brilliant,” he said and then his gaze settled on me. He gave me a long and thorough perusal and then grinned. “Who’s the lass?”
“Let me introduce you to Lexi Carmichael,” Finn said, his hand still resting in the small of my back. He pushed me a little bit forward. “Lexi, this is Colin Kelley, owner of the Shamrock Gallery.”
I noticed that Finn’s voice had immediately changed to a full-blown Irish lilt upon our arrival and it made me smile. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said to Colin.
To my surprise, Colin snatched my hand and pressed it to his lips for what I thought was an inordinate amount of time. “So, an American lass,” he murmured against my skin. “That’s a surprise.”
I wasn’t so sure what was surprising about that, but before I could say anything, Finn spoke up.
“Colin and I go way back.” He extracted my hand from Colin’s lips. “We’ve been friends since primary
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