Amanda got slowly to her feet and stared at him, loving everything about him. She loved the way his lopsided grin drove deep creases into his cheeks. She loved the warm crinkles around his dark eyes and the easy relaxed strength of his big body. She loved his hands resting casually against his broad leather belt, and the way his jacket fitted over lean blue-jeaned hips, and the look of his booted feet resting solid and confident on her shining parquet floor.
She wanted to open the door and shout her love to all the world. She wanted to fling herself into his arms, burrow against him and draw his warmth into her body, feel his arms around her and his mouth on hers in a kiss that would last a lifetime.
But she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but stand rooted to the spot and gaze at him with wide eyes and parted lips.
“I let Alvin come in first,” Brock said calmly, his eyes fixed on hers, “because he wanted a few minutes alone with you.”
“I…I see,” Amanda said, forcing herself to speak, hardly knowing what she said.
“After all, he’s in love, the poor little fella,” Brock explained with a smile. “And I know how that feels.”
“You do?” she whispered.
“Yeah. You see, I’m so much in love with you, Amanda, that I can hardly even remember my own name. So I can sure understand how…”
But he couldn’t say anything else because she was in his arms, laughing and crying, kissing him and running her hands over his face, murmuring broken words of happiness, loving the feel of him, the cool rainy scent of shaving cream and leather, the warm tanned skin and the sweet hard lips that pressed on hers.
“Brock,” she whispered. “Oh, Brock, darling, I’m so sorry for all the—”
“Don’t talk,” he murmured, his mouth moving against hers. “Don’t talk, woman. How can I kiss you if you keep talking?”
She laughed and gave herself up to his caress again, knowing that it was all right, that everything was resolved between them and there was nothing more to forgive.
Again she had the dreamy sensation of being somewhere else, far from this dark little shop, this drab November day. She was on a hillside starred with flowers, warm and bright with sunlight and a rainbow that slanted across the green hills and ended at her feet, glowing in the mist, spilling golden riches on the man in her arms and the life that lay ahead of them.
ISBN: 978 1 472 05185 1
NEW WAY TO FLY
© 1993 Margot Dalton
Published in Great Britain 1993
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
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