When We Kiss
Page 29
She looked up, up into the face of one turned-on Brit. Her knees nearly buckled.
When they’d arrived at the bar, the sun was still setting, so she hadn’t thought to worry about where she parked. Now she realized she’d chosen a spot that the dim lights outside the bar didn’t reach. They were mostly in darkness, and she probably should have been afraid. Spencer was much taller than her, broader. His forearms were muscular and she could see the roundness of his biceps under his shirt.
But for some reason, she wasn’t worried. The only part of him that touched her was his chest brushing along hers. She’d worn a push-up bra today and she cursed the padding that was separating her from rubbing her hardened nipples against him.
His hand was braced on the side of the truck, the other hanging at his side in a loose fist. His entire body was tense as he stared down into her eyes.
Slowly, very slowly, he lifted the hand at his side and settled it on her hip. Her tank top had ridden up so a strip of skin was bared between it and the top of her jeans. He ran his thumb along that strip of skin, watching her face. She got the impression he was waiting for her to say stop, or keep going, and she appreciated that.
Although what did she expect from a man named Leslie Michael Spencer?
She curled her tongue around her top teeth and lifted her chin. “You too posh to take what you want?” she whispered.
He barked out a laugh. “I have to make the first move, do I?”
She swallowed. “I’m pretty sure my invitation to stick your hand up my shirt was the first move.” She was proud of her chest, always had been. Dawn girls were blessed in the boob department, that was for sure, despite their small statures.
His eyes dipped to her chest, then back up. “Hm, I guess you’re right.”
“Your move then, Posh.”
“This was my move. Not letting you get in the car, pressing my body to yours, showing you that I want you.” He emphasized that with a slight roll of his hips. “So, actually, it’s now your move, Sprite.”
There were a lot of things about a man’s body Alex liked. Hands were one. Legs and ass were another. She’d seen glimpses of the muscles in his thighs flexing in his pants, the perfect shape of his ass, so now she decided she needed to feel too. She reached down with both hands, running her fingers up the back of his thighs, then cupped his ass. She pressed his hips to her, and he exhaled roughly. “Your move now,” she whispered.
An Excerpt from
MONTANA HEARTS:
SWEET TALKIN’ COWBOY
By Darlene Panzera
If it wasn’t for an injury to his leg, Luke Collins would be riding rodeo broncos all day, every day. Until he heals, he’s determined to help his family’s guest ranch bring in money any way he can. But when a cranky neighbor gets in the way of his goal, Luke turns to the only person he knows can help: the gorgeous, rodeo-barrel-racing spitfire next door.
Sammy Jo froze as he met her gaze, and it seemed as if he could see right through her. But could he see the love she had for him swelling her heart? Sometimes when they stood this near she thought her chest would explode with the emotion she fought so hard to restrain. But if she gushed like a schoolgirl and told him how she really felt, he’d never believe her. Not that he did now. And she’d only shown him a quarter of the affection she’d been hiding.
“Okay,” Luke relented, “you can help. But keep your eyes on the job.”
“Where else would my eyes be?” she teased.
Luke shot her a look of amusement, but didn’t reply and she didn’t dare push the subject any farther. Determined to show him she could be of value, she shot out her arm to retrieve the bucket of paint he’d placed on an upper rung of the ladder.
Except Luke reached for it at the same time and the double movement made the bucket wobble, tip, and then . . . dump the five gallons of thick, clover green liquid right over both their heads.
Sammy Jo let out a screech, jumped back as the bucket hit the ground to avoid another splash, and brought her hands up to her face to keep the paint from streaming into her eyes. The chalky latex enamel substance smelled as bad as it tasted and she had to spit several times to get the wretched stuff off her lips and out of her mouth.
She glanced down at her white t-shirt and denim cut-offs coated in green, as were her arms, legs, and what used to be her blue, canvas shoes.
Then her hands flew to the top of her head where gobs of the green goo weighted down her long dark curls and left them hanging limp over her shoulders. She tried to separate the icky green strands with her fingers and let out another cry. Returning her hair to its natural color would be no easy task. No easy task at all! Maybe next time she’d think twice before offering to help for the sake of spending time with him.
She glanced at Luke, also covered in green, except she’d been right—his clothes hid the paint better. Holding her breath, she waited for his reaction. Would he be mad? Blame her for wasting the gallon of paint?
No . . . he grinned. As if this was funny. As if . . .
“Did you do that on purpose?” she demanded.
“Of course not,” he said, inspecting the new color of his cane. “If I had, I would have stepped back so the paint didn’t get me.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
“I’m not.” He broke into another grin. “Although you do look a lot like the wicked witch from The Wizard of Oz.”
Sammy Jo sucked in her breath. “And you look like a cow has spewed all over you with a whole day’s worth of green cud!”
This time Luke did laugh. He laughed for several long seconds, harder than she’d ever heard him laugh since he’d been back home.
“You know that Emerald Isle shade becomes you,” he teased. “Matches your eyes.”
“Not funny,” she shot back. “How am I going to get all this paint out of my hair?”
“You can’t. You’ll have to cut it all off.”
The thought of styling a bald head didn’t hold much appeal. She’d rather sport her clover green curls until the color grew out, although that image too, was almost enough to bring her to tears.
Then his amused expression made her realize he wasn’t serious and she pointed her finger at him. “Now who’s playing games?”
Luke shrugged. “It’ll wash out with a good shampoo. You’ll just have to scrub real good. For now, we can rinse off with the hose in the wash room.”
She patted the front pocket on her denim shorts. “I hope the paint didn’t go through to my cell phone. What if I lost all my contact numbers? Or my photos?”
“Would be a shame,” he said with mock concern.
Luke did not appreciate the finer aspects of having multiple apps available at one’s fingertips 24–7. A fault she could easily forgive him for if he’d only pick up the phone to call her for a date.
A real date. Not just hanging out at the barn, or attending a rodeo together with the rest of their friends, or even roasting marshmallows by the fire with his sisters. But one-on-one time with just the two of them.
Luke led her toward the open double doors of the stable to the large cement wash room where they usually gave the horses a bath. When she envisioned a date, this setting had never come to mind either.
“Stand over the drain and I’ll hose you down,” he said, turning on the water.
She took her phone out of her pocket and set it on a shelf holding the horse shampoo, a sponge and squeegee. Then stood ready to embrace the oncoming shower.
“Tip your head back and close your eyes,” Luke instructed.
“So you can kiss me?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “So I can do this.”
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LORD DASHWOOD MISSED OUT
A SPINDLE COVE NOVELLA
By Tessa Dare
A snowstorm hath no fury like a spinster scorned
Miss Eli
nora Browning grew up yearning for the handsome, intelligent lord-next-door . . . but he left England without a word of farewell. One night, inspired by a bit too much sherry, Nora poured out her heartbreak on paper. Lord Dashwood Missed Out was a love letter to every young lady who’d been overlooked by gentlemen—and an instant bestseller. Now she’s on her way to speak in Spindle Cove when snowy weather delays her coach. She’s forced to wait out the storm with the worst possible companion: Lord Dashwood himself.
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BURNING BRIGHT
FOUR CHANUKAH LOVE STORIES
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This December, take a break from dreidel spinning, gelt winning, and latke eating to experience the joy of Chanukah. When you fall in love during the Festival of Lights, the world burns a whole lot brighter.
It’s definitely not love at first sight for Amanda and her cute but mysterious new neighbor, Ben. Can a Chanukah miracle show them that getting off on the wrong foot doesn’t mean they can’t walk the same road?
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All Tamar Jacobs expected from her Israel vacation was time to hang out with one of her besties and to act like a tourist, cheesy t-shirt and all, in her two favorite cities. She definitely was not expecting to fall for Avi Levinson, a handsome soldier who’s more than she ever dreamed.
ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS A DUKE
By Valerie Bowman, Tiffany Clare,
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The holidays are a time for dining, dancing, and of course—dukes! Celebrate the Christmas season with this enchanting collection of historical romances featuring the most eligible bachelors of the ton . . .
A childish prank may have reunited the Duke of Hollingsworth with his estranged wife, but only the magic of Christmas will show this couple ’tis the season of second chances . . .
Sophie Kinsley planned to remain a wallflower at the Duke of Hollyshire’s ball. Yet when a dance with him leads to a stolen kiss, will the duke be willing to let her go? Or will Sophie’s Christmas wish be granted at last?
To the Duke of Vale, science solves everything—even marriage. When the impulsive Ivy Sutherland makes him question all of his data, he realizes that he’s overlooked a vital component in his search for the perfect match: love.
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Excerpt from Dirty Deeds copyright © 2015 by Megan Erickson.
Excerpt from Montana Hearts: Sweet Talkin’ Cowboy copyright © 2015 by Darlene Panzera.
WHEN WE KISS. Copyright © 2016 by Darcy Burke. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition JANUARY 2016 ISBN: 9780062443380
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062443403
Avon, Avon Impulse, and the Avon Impulse logo are trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers.
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