Unforgiven Page 30
by Anne Calhoun
Ever so slightly he lifted one eyebrow at her. Later?
She gave him a compact shake of her head, just enough to indicate Not now, and loosen her hair from its mooring behind her ear. The shiny blond strands slid forward in slow motion, setting off a sympathetic flex of his hand as the nerves remembered the sleek feel of her hair between his fingers, the curve of her hips in his palms.
If secrecy mattered to her, they could work something out. She’d leave in a couple of weeks, which was plenty of time for him to explore every nuance of her blushes. Hell, thanks to the plumbing, they had a good cover story to explain his being in her house.
Based on their chemistry, he had even better reason to be in her bed.
