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Authors: Michele Dunaway
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opportunity.”
He reached forward and shook her hand. Her fingertips tingled, sending raw heat coursing through her veins. “Perfect. So we have a new agreement.”
“Yes. You. Me. We’ll take the photos and produce the book.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She laughed at his deliberate choice of words. Each minute she spent in his company made her like him more, made her loosen up, made her want to lose the fearful woman who was once bitten, twice shy. If nothing else, she wanted to feel something that didn’t come from a book, indulge in a fantasy even if it was a fool’s errand.
She took his hand, gave it another shake. Heat fused them together, warming her through. She blushed, smiled. Shook her head in disbelief as his lips inched upward in a grin. “You know, Joe, for once you just might be right.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” His hand felt good. She didn’t want to let it go. “I do believe we have a plan.”
* * *
Bill paid—his treat, he’d insisted—Joe found himself a few minutes later once again clinging to the door handle as she sped her little car through the streets of St. Louis. He didn’t mind. She’d agreed. A huge load had been lifted from his shoulders.
Sure, he would now have to introduce her to his family, who would immediately love her. That was a small price to pay, for every woman Joe brought around was potential marriage material until proven otherwise. Not that there were many. Actually more like few and far between.
As for Taylor, she was the photographer. Joe admitted he liked her. She was blunt. Funny. Devoted. Interesting. Sexy as hell, whether her hair was up or down, like now. He glanced at her profile as she whipped around a corner. They were almost back at Presley’s. Yes, interesting, and he’d be interested in asking her out, but he refused to complicate matters. Also, all his standard reasons of why he didn’t date rushed forward, but Joe pushed them aside. No reason to rehash those. He’d lived a long time with the truth about himself, that his flaws drove women away.
He needed Taylor for the book, and he wanted the book for his sister. So any desires he had needed to be kept in check. No matter how tempting she might be.
She threw the car in park, jolting him, and then they were standing outside her car. “I’ll call you,” he told her, “for sure this time.”
She smiled, the glow of the streetlights lighting up her whole face. “I won’t hold my breath.”
He had the urge to kiss her, to capture that breath, to draw it from her lips and into his body. Instead, he shoved his hands into his front pockets. “My mother and sister won’t let me live it down if I don’t. I guess you need to go in. Do you want me to walk you to the door?”
“It’s right there. It’s safe. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” He removed his hands, dropped them to his side. They weren’t on a date, and her upturned, expectant face demanded he take charge. He reached forward, tucked a loose stand of hair behind her ear. Her breath hitched. “Good night then.”
He thrust his right hand forward, the handshake failing to satisfy the overpowering need to touch her, to explore her softness. Just rubbing his thumb over her lower lip—what would that hurt?
Instead, he fused his fingers with hers, shook, and detached quickly before he did something that would embarrass himself or ruin being professional. Instead, he waited until she had safely entered the restaurant before he turned, took a deep breath, and went home.
Chapter Four
“You know I can’t do it without your help. If you don’t help me, the entire country could be in jeopardy.”
“You know I’ll help you, Duncan. How could I not? I—”
“Don’t say you love me. I’m a rogue. A rake.”
“A spy in the guise of a pirate.”
He reached to gently touch her face. “My priority must be saving the crown.”
“Good book?”
“Hey, Mom.” Taylor dog-eared a corner. Sunday afternoon found Taylor
He reached forward and shook her hand. Her fingertips tingled, sending raw heat coursing through her veins. “Perfect. So we have a new agreement.”
“Yes. You. Me. We’ll take the photos and produce the book.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She laughed at his deliberate choice of words. Each minute she spent in his company made her like him more, made her loosen up, made her want to lose the fearful woman who was once bitten, twice shy. If nothing else, she wanted to feel something that didn’t come from a book, indulge in a fantasy even if it was a fool’s errand.
She took his hand, gave it another shake. Heat fused them together, warming her through. She blushed, smiled. Shook her head in disbelief as his lips inched upward in a grin. “You know, Joe, for once you just might be right.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” His hand felt good. She didn’t want to let it go. “I do believe we have a plan.”
* * *
Bill paid—his treat, he’d insisted—Joe found himself a few minutes later once again clinging to the door handle as she sped her little car through the streets of St. Louis. He didn’t mind. She’d agreed. A huge load had been lifted from his shoulders.
Sure, he would now have to introduce her to his family, who would immediately love her. That was a small price to pay, for every woman Joe brought around was potential marriage material until proven otherwise. Not that there were many. Actually more like few and far between.
As for Taylor, she was the photographer. Joe admitted he liked her. She was blunt. Funny. Devoted. Interesting. Sexy as hell, whether her hair was up or down, like now. He glanced at her profile as she whipped around a corner. They were almost back at Presley’s. Yes, interesting, and he’d be interested in asking her out, but he refused to complicate matters. Also, all his standard reasons of why he didn’t date rushed forward, but Joe pushed them aside. No reason to rehash those. He’d lived a long time with the truth about himself, that his flaws drove women away.
He needed Taylor for the book, and he wanted the book for his sister. So any desires he had needed to be kept in check. No matter how tempting she might be.
She threw the car in park, jolting him, and then they were standing outside her car. “I’ll call you,” he told her, “for sure this time.”
She smiled, the glow of the streetlights lighting up her whole face. “I won’t hold my breath.”
He had the urge to kiss her, to capture that breath, to draw it from her lips and into his body. Instead, he shoved his hands into his front pockets. “My mother and sister won’t let me live it down if I don’t. I guess you need to go in. Do you want me to walk you to the door?”
“It’s right there. It’s safe. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” He removed his hands, dropped them to his side. They weren’t on a date, and her upturned, expectant face demanded he take charge. He reached forward, tucked a loose stand of hair behind her ear. Her breath hitched. “Good night then.”
He thrust his right hand forward, the handshake failing to satisfy the overpowering need to touch her, to explore her softness. Just rubbing his thumb over her lower lip—what would that hurt?
Instead, he fused his fingers with hers, shook, and detached quickly before he did something that would embarrass himself or ruin being professional. Instead, he waited until she had safely entered the restaurant before he turned, took a deep breath, and went home.
Chapter Four
“You know I can’t do it without your help. If you don’t help me, the entire country could be in jeopardy.”
“You know I’ll help you, Duncan. How could I not? I—”
“Don’t say you love me. I’m a rogue. A rake.”
“A spy in the guise of a pirate.”
He reached to gently touch her face. “My priority must be saving the crown.”
“Good book?”
“Hey, Mom.” Taylor dog-eared a corner. Sunday afternoon found Taylor
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