of the Sally-Rose . Initial contact had been made and the owner was considering everything they’d briefly discussed.
They’d discussed business plans all through their picnic and Teri finally asked her question. “What were you about to tell me on the dock?” That had not been the time for longwinded declarations. Not with clients waiting. “Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped you, because we’ve talked about nothing but business since we left the Sally-Rose .” She gave him a fake pout. “Not that I’m fishing for love words, but, yes, what the hell, I’m fishing for love words.” She wanted it all confirmed. Maybe even needed his love confirmed. Maybe she always would.
“You mentioned a few days ago that now there could be children in your future.”
“I’d like to hope we make that decision,” she said. “But, if there’s a reason you can’t . . .” she trailed off so he’d know she wouldn’t pressure him.
“We’ll have at least one son,” he said. “The MacKays always do.”
“Huh,” she murmured, uncertain of where he could possibly be going with this. She leaned against him and drew his arm across her shoulder to snuggle in. “And this has what to do with you loving me and me loving you?”
“When we have that son, I’ll explain everything to him. He’ll need to know a bit of family lore before he goes touching all the wrong women.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“No, Teri, it’s just crazy. As crazy as love at first touch.” Before she could ask any more questions, he kissed her blind, dumb and stupid.
And took her right there, on the deck , and up to the stars.
~~~~~
If you’ve enjoyed Slow Hand , please let other readers know and post a review on the site where you purchased this ebook. I’m grateful that readers take the time to share their thoughts.
For a sampling from Slow Hand’s companion book , Body Work please page forward.
Excerpt from
Body Work
By
Bonnie Edwards
Tyce Branton wiped his hands on a rag and settled against the hood of the Cadillac coupe. She had great lines, long and lean, with headlights that could stall a man’s heart. Lines that could make a man’s hands itch. Maybe it wasn’t the car that revved him up after all. Maybe it was the woman closing the back kitchen door of her Tudor mansion. Like the Caddy, her color was cream-and-white blonde while the sweep of her long-lined midsection gave her the look of speed, grace, and agility.
She was possessed of a body a man could drive and drive and drive.
C ome to Papa.
And she di d.
Straight across the courtyard she came. Her long legs eating the ground, hair flying back just enough to show the pink lobes of her ears, the Widow Delaney approached the middle bay of the three-car garage where Tyce stood. Much younger than even rumor had it, she was a ripe beauty, made for a man to hold on to. Stretch out over. Sink into. As he drank in the sight of her purposeful approach, Tyce recognized a familiar swing to her walk. The set of her shoulders and the light, graceful flow of her hands by her thighs reminded him of someone.
He straightened immediately, alert to an inner rhythm he hadn’t felt in years. As her sandals hit the cobblestones, he felt an answering tattoo in his chest and farther south.
It was as if he’d seen her walk toward him thousands of times.
But this woman was no recent acquaintance. He’d never even met the deceased husband. So where and when had he met her?
The sandals she wore had slim straps at the ankles. Thin, elegant ankles. Rhinestones glittered on the toe straps. Her legs were smooth and shiny like those of a pampered mistress. Arms loose, her gait was easy but determined. Her breasts were high, firm, probably fake, while her head was set in a haughty way that said she was very much the lady of the manor.
Tilted in just that way, her chin spoke of determination and pride.
Word was she’d demanded his personal attention. His hands and no one else’s would
They’d discussed business plans all through their picnic and Teri finally asked her question. “What were you about to tell me on the dock?” That had not been the time for longwinded declarations. Not with clients waiting. “Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped you, because we’ve talked about nothing but business since we left the Sally-Rose .” She gave him a fake pout. “Not that I’m fishing for love words, but, yes, what the hell, I’m fishing for love words.” She wanted it all confirmed. Maybe even needed his love confirmed. Maybe she always would.
“You mentioned a few days ago that now there could be children in your future.”
“I’d like to hope we make that decision,” she said. “But, if there’s a reason you can’t . . .” she trailed off so he’d know she wouldn’t pressure him.
“We’ll have at least one son,” he said. “The MacKays always do.”
“Huh,” she murmured, uncertain of where he could possibly be going with this. She leaned against him and drew his arm across her shoulder to snuggle in. “And this has what to do with you loving me and me loving you?”
“When we have that son, I’ll explain everything to him. He’ll need to know a bit of family lore before he goes touching all the wrong women.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“No, Teri, it’s just crazy. As crazy as love at first touch.” Before she could ask any more questions, he kissed her blind, dumb and stupid.
And took her right there, on the deck , and up to the stars.
~~~~~
If you’ve enjoyed Slow Hand , please let other readers know and post a review on the site where you purchased this ebook. I’m grateful that readers take the time to share their thoughts.
For a sampling from Slow Hand’s companion book , Body Work please page forward.
Excerpt from
Body Work
By
Bonnie Edwards
Tyce Branton wiped his hands on a rag and settled against the hood of the Cadillac coupe. She had great lines, long and lean, with headlights that could stall a man’s heart. Lines that could make a man’s hands itch. Maybe it wasn’t the car that revved him up after all. Maybe it was the woman closing the back kitchen door of her Tudor mansion. Like the Caddy, her color was cream-and-white blonde while the sweep of her long-lined midsection gave her the look of speed, grace, and agility.
She was possessed of a body a man could drive and drive and drive.
C ome to Papa.
And she di d.
Straight across the courtyard she came. Her long legs eating the ground, hair flying back just enough to show the pink lobes of her ears, the Widow Delaney approached the middle bay of the three-car garage where Tyce stood. Much younger than even rumor had it, she was a ripe beauty, made for a man to hold on to. Stretch out over. Sink into. As he drank in the sight of her purposeful approach, Tyce recognized a familiar swing to her walk. The set of her shoulders and the light, graceful flow of her hands by her thighs reminded him of someone.
He straightened immediately, alert to an inner rhythm he hadn’t felt in years. As her sandals hit the cobblestones, he felt an answering tattoo in his chest and farther south.
It was as if he’d seen her walk toward him thousands of times.
But this woman was no recent acquaintance. He’d never even met the deceased husband. So where and when had he met her?
The sandals she wore had slim straps at the ankles. Thin, elegant ankles. Rhinestones glittered on the toe straps. Her legs were smooth and shiny like those of a pampered mistress. Arms loose, her gait was easy but determined. Her breasts were high, firm, probably fake, while her head was set in a haughty way that said she was very much the lady of the manor.
Tilted in just that way, her chin spoke of determination and pride.
Word was she’d demanded his personal attention. His hands and no one else’s would
Similar Books
