Read Online Body Language by Suzanne Brockmann - Free Book Online Page A

not before this visit.
    She turned to face him, lightly resting her hand on his forearm. “Clint, I can’t shake the feeling that you’re having some sort of crisis,” she said softly. “I wish you would tell me what’s wrong so that I can help you.”
    McCade braked to a stop behind a long line of cars at a red light. He moved his arm so her hand slid down to his, and he gently locked their fingers together. “I’ll be all right,” he said, praying he wasn’t lying.
    “You know that I’d do anything for you. Just ask.”
    McCade smiled and lightly kissed the top of her hand before he released it. “I saw your graceful exit from the equipment van.”
    “You’re changing the subject.”
    “Very perceptive.”
    Sandy was silent. Since when did McCade keep secrets from her?
    “Did you do it on purpose?” he asked.
    Sandy stared at him blankly. “Huh?”
    “When you fell out of the van, did you mean to?”
    “Yeah, I intentionally planned to look like a fool.” She snorted. “I’ve found that really turns guys on.”
    “It works for me.”
    McCade was grinning at her, and she found herself grinning back. “Well, gee, I’ll keep that in mind.”
    Now why was it so easy to flirt with McCade? She would never dare say something so suggestive to James. Maybe it was because she knew McCade was safe. She knew he wouldn’t take her seriously, the same way she’d never mistake his flirting for something real.
    “What did Vandenberg give you?” McCade asked.
    “You
were
watching me. I thought so.” She narrowed her eyes. “How was my body language?”
    “It needs work,” he said bluntly.
    “But I thought I was doing okay,” she protested. “I mean, James had his hands all over me. In fact, for a minute there, I thought he was asking me out. He said there was a reception at Simon Harcourt’s country club tonight, but then he gave me the directions and told me to bring a date.” Sandy sighed.
    “That’s what he handed you? Directions to the club?”
    She nodded. “Yeah.”
    “You know what I think happened?” he asked, and she shook her head, waiting for him to continue. “I think Vandenberg was intending to ask you to go to this reception with him, but then you started backing away, so he backed off too.”
    “Backing away?”
    “Yeah.” McCade pulled into the condo lot, zipping neatly into Sandy’s slot in the carport. He turned off the car and dangled the keys toward her. “This time you froze him out by jamming your hands into your pockets and doing a quick two-step away from him. He interpreted that as an impending refusal. So, being a normal, red-blooded American male, he decided to skip the humiliation of a rejection. Can you blame him?”
    “I froze him out?” Sandy took the keys and slumped dejectedly in her seat. “I’m a social reject. A body-language illiterate. It’s hopeless, McCade.”
    “No, it’s not.” McCade extracted his long legs from the tiny car and went around to open the door on the other side.
    Sandy looked away, but she wasn’t quick enough to hide the fact that her eyes were brimming with unshed tears.
    “Aw, hell, you’re serious.” He crouched next to her so their faces were on the same level. “Hey, Sandy, come on. You can learn body language, but it’s just like anything else. In order to really learn it, you need to practice.”
    “Practice?” she echoed.
    “Practice,” he agreed. His hair was a jumble of waves, one lock falling rakishly across his forehead. The muscles in his arms tightened as he supported his weight, his solid biceps stretching the sleeves of his shirt. “Let’s go inside, get showered up and changed, and hit that country-club reception.”
    “You hate going to that sort of thing.”
    “I’ll live. You need to be in public to practice.”
    “Won’t I also need someone to practice on?” she asked. “James isn’t exactly willing.”
    “You don’t need James,” McCade said. “You’ve got me.”
     
    Sandy’s