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Authors: Jayne Ann Krentz
Tags: Contemporary Romance
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renewal and satisfaction in a world that had nothing to do with the one in which he worked.
Garth promised himself he would do everything in his power to protect his newfound refuge and the woman who maintained it for him. On his way to the door he scooped up the bid package and shoved it into his briefcase.
In his mind he was already nearing Shannon's cottage, anticipating her warm greeting, the good meal she would serve him and the long night ahead in her arms.
It was just barely possible, he thought as he climbed into the Porsche, that with Shannon to go to on the weekends, he might be able to deal with the increasing restlessness he was experiencing these days at work. Knowing that the weekends would bring him the peace and comfort he needed might make it possible for him to work though the strange mood that had been plaguing him for the past few months.
-4-
GARTH WAS EARLY. She hadn't expected him for another couple of hours. Shannon tossed aside the squeegee as she heard the crunch of tires on gravel accompanied by the well-bred roar of the Porsche engine. Hastily she removed the last greeting card from beneath the silk screen, put it carefully on the drying table and then she raced for the door.
"I didn't expect you until this evening!" she exclaimed, coming quickly down the front steps as Garth climbed out of the Porsche and reached for his leather overnight bag.
"I got away early." He waited for her as she rushed toward him, his eyes warm with a deeply satisfied expression.
Shannon laughed and stopped short just as she was about to throw her arms around him. "I don't dare touch you. I've got paint all over me."
He leaned down and kissed her, something he'd been thinking about doing for the past few hours. A firm, sensually aggressive kiss that contained a wealth of waiting hunger. "Let's go inside. It's been a long trip."
Some of Shannon's pleasure in seeing him faded at the words. "It is a long trip, isn't it? How much time does it take to drive it? Four hours?"
"Almost." He stepped into the cottage and set down the bag. Then he brushed his mouth across hers again, lingeringly this time. "And worth every mile."
"I hope you continue to think so next weekend and the weekend after that." Shannon tried to keep her voice light, but she was afraid some of her uncertainty showed.
"As long as I know you're waiting, I'll be here." Garth hung his jacket up in the hall closet, his actions making him appear very much at home. Then he turned back to her. "Show me what you're doing that's got you covered in red ink."
Shannon's mouth curved again as she led to the way to her studio. "I'm screening another order of cards. I was hoping to do some of the totes today, but one of the shops in town called up and said they had to have another order of greeting cards. I was just finishing as you arrived. All I have to do now is clean up." He followed her into the room and stood studying the array of small tools on the worktable, the rack of drying cards that had just received their third and last trip under the silk and the paint-covered squeegee and screen.
"For every color of ink you use in the design on the cards you have to run each one through the process a separate time?" Garth frowned as he examined the screen.
"That's right. I suppose that doesn't seem terribly efficient to someone who runs an electronics firm. I'll bet you crank out fifty billion doohickies an hour on your assembly lines, right?"
"Not quite fifty billion, but I'm sure we get a lot more, er , doohickies out the door than you do cards," he retorted dryly. "Still, I can't market my products as handmade. Precision made, yes, but not handmade."
"What exactly does Sherilectronics make, Garth?" Shannon had been realizing all week how little she still knew of him.
"Circuit boards and other components for companies that manufacture computers," Garth responded absently. He wandered around the room as Shannon began cleaning red ink off the screen.
Garth promised himself he would do everything in his power to protect his newfound refuge and the woman who maintained it for him. On his way to the door he scooped up the bid package and shoved it into his briefcase.
In his mind he was already nearing Shannon's cottage, anticipating her warm greeting, the good meal she would serve him and the long night ahead in her arms.
It was just barely possible, he thought as he climbed into the Porsche, that with Shannon to go to on the weekends, he might be able to deal with the increasing restlessness he was experiencing these days at work. Knowing that the weekends would bring him the peace and comfort he needed might make it possible for him to work though the strange mood that had been plaguing him for the past few months.
-4-
GARTH WAS EARLY. She hadn't expected him for another couple of hours. Shannon tossed aside the squeegee as she heard the crunch of tires on gravel accompanied by the well-bred roar of the Porsche engine. Hastily she removed the last greeting card from beneath the silk screen, put it carefully on the drying table and then she raced for the door.
"I didn't expect you until this evening!" she exclaimed, coming quickly down the front steps as Garth climbed out of the Porsche and reached for his leather overnight bag.
"I got away early." He waited for her as she rushed toward him, his eyes warm with a deeply satisfied expression.
Shannon laughed and stopped short just as she was about to throw her arms around him. "I don't dare touch you. I've got paint all over me."
He leaned down and kissed her, something he'd been thinking about doing for the past few hours. A firm, sensually aggressive kiss that contained a wealth of waiting hunger. "Let's go inside. It's been a long trip."
Some of Shannon's pleasure in seeing him faded at the words. "It is a long trip, isn't it? How much time does it take to drive it? Four hours?"
"Almost." He stepped into the cottage and set down the bag. Then he brushed his mouth across hers again, lingeringly this time. "And worth every mile."
"I hope you continue to think so next weekend and the weekend after that." Shannon tried to keep her voice light, but she was afraid some of her uncertainty showed.
"As long as I know you're waiting, I'll be here." Garth hung his jacket up in the hall closet, his actions making him appear very much at home. Then he turned back to her. "Show me what you're doing that's got you covered in red ink."
Shannon's mouth curved again as she led to the way to her studio. "I'm screening another order of cards. I was hoping to do some of the totes today, but one of the shops in town called up and said they had to have another order of greeting cards. I was just finishing as you arrived. All I have to do now is clean up." He followed her into the room and stood studying the array of small tools on the worktable, the rack of drying cards that had just received their third and last trip under the silk and the paint-covered squeegee and screen.
"For every color of ink you use in the design on the cards you have to run each one through the process a separate time?" Garth frowned as he examined the screen.
"That's right. I suppose that doesn't seem terribly efficient to someone who runs an electronics firm. I'll bet you crank out fifty billion doohickies an hour on your assembly lines, right?"
"Not quite fifty billion, but I'm sure we get a lot more, er , doohickies out the door than you do cards," he retorted dryly. "Still, I can't market my products as handmade. Precision made, yes, but not handmade."
"What exactly does Sherilectronics make, Garth?" Shannon had been realizing all week how little she still knew of him.
"Circuit boards and other components for companies that manufacture computers," Garth responded absently. He wandered around the room as Shannon began cleaning red ink off the screen.
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