Thursday, June 4, 2009


The ice bit into her hand, but it felt good. Careful so as not to drop it, she let it linger along her skin. It cooled her fevered body. Yet, if a certain man were around, she'd have not trouble with being too warm. She didn't care if she burned up at all.

The very object of her combustion strolled pat her, and her heart dropped to her knees.

A smile so sexy it had to be criminal played across his handsome face. "Hello, Ambrielle."

"Hi. How are you?" she asked. His tongue darted out to moisten dry lips. Her gaze followed it ll the way around and once again she imagined what it would feel like to have that tongue upon her body.

"Hot and thirsty," replied Dusty.

Once hand on her hip, one hand on the post, she said, "I can fix the thirsty part, but not the hot part."

"I'd be mighty grateful to you, if you could, Bri."

"Sure. Come on in," she said and turned to go into the house."

His gaze bore into her back and Ambrielle shivered. God this man was incredible. Her nipples tightened, straining against her bra. He hadn't even touched her and she was coming already.

She opened the cupboard, and grabbed a glass. She felt his gaze on her every move. When she opened the freezer, she lingered in the cool air a moment.

"Hey, no hogging the cold," he said and stuck his face in the freezer. For one moment, Ambrielle forgot who she was and what he was doing. All she saw was this drop-dead gorgeous man in the freezer. His dark brown hair just to hi shoulders, not quite touching them. When he opened his eyes, his blue eyes left her speechless.

"Ah, Bri? Is there something wrong?"

"Huh?" she said still in a daze. Then it sank in that she stared at him. With a shake of her head she answered. "no. Sorry...the heat."

"Yeah. It's pretty bad today."

She filled his glass and pulled out the lemonade. "Weatherman says we might break the record."

Dusty sat down. "Wouldn't surprise me a bit."

"Me neither," she said, pouring his drink.

Dusty took the glass from her and his hand lingered on hers a moment.

After he took a big long drink, he asked, "How's your mother?"

Ambrielle looked down at her glass before she answered.

Her mother would forever be in their way. Dusty was old-fashioned and wouldn't touch Ambrielle before they were married, and wouldn't marry her without her mother's approval. She refused to give them her blessing. However, she could tell his resistance began to wear thin.