tartar or cocktail sauce for the shrimp.”
“I think I’ll start with everything,” Sloan murmured, a little uneasy since she had so openly pried and thinking it might be to her benefit to keep her mouth busy for a while with food. “I just realized I’m ravenous, and...you are very good at this!”
“Thank you.” Wes dunked a shrimp into the plastic container of cocktail sauce and popped it into her mouth. He laughed at her surprised expression, and the unease she had been feeling slipped away.
They both talked as they ate, and they began to learn a great deal about one another. While she managed to draw information diplomatically from Wesley about his summer camp and the battering years of pro football, he managed to get her talking about Terry. It was strange that she could talk about her deceased husband with Wes, a man she was supposedly seducing, when she found it difficult to talk about Terry to anyone. But he seemed interested, genuinely sympathetic. He seemed to offer her strength...silly. It was simply the way he was built, and the character that the years had ingrained in his face. Next to such a man it was easy to feel that he could take away the cares of the world and set them upon his own broad shoulders.
It was later in the day, after a bottle of wine and a half of the feast he had provided had been consumed, that Sloan contentedly made an admission to herself.
She was happy. Honest-to-God happy. Wesley had made no passes at her, but she felt herself drawn to him, at ease with him, comfortably so. He sat beside her, his compelling green eyes laughed into hers, his strong hand brushed over hers often, naturally. And she could feel him, his heat, his suppressed strength, his handsome frame so close to hers that it almost made her dizzy.
No, it was the wine making her dizzy. No, it was Wesley...
She blushed suddenly as they lay in lazy companionship, comfortably relaxed beneath the sycamore. She realized where her thoughts had been taking her.
She had been wondering what it would be like to be held in his arms...to feel his lips commanding hers...to lie beside him, flesh against flesh, and feel the mastery of his superb muscles...It was more than a blush, and she was glad his astute green eyes were idly upon the sky instead of her. Crimson splashed its way through her body, heating her from head to toe. What’s the matter with me? she demanded of herself. I’m not that sort of person!
But something else inside of her was crying out. What sort of a person. It had been so long...and she was a mature woman, a normal woman. It was only natural that she should feel the need for strong, masculine arms around her, revel in the faint and intoxicating aroma of after-shave and...and...simple maleness.
“Shall we?”
“What?” Startled, Sloan glanced at Wes. He was no longer watching the sky; he was watching her.
“Sleeping on me, huh?” he teased, knowing full well her mind had wandered. “Nice. Real nice. I take the girl out and put her right to sleep! I said, ‘Shall we take a walk?’”
“Oh—uh—yes, sure.” She smiled quickly. “A walk sounds nice.”
Wesley rose, moving with the agility that only an athlete could possess, and extended a hand to Sloan. She unwound her own legs and gracefully accepted his assistance up, her mind beginning to race.
Where was he leading her...?
It was a public park, she told herself coldly. He wasn’t leading her anywhere. But she began to feel a tinge of fear, and it had nothing to do with Wesley’s far superior strength or what he might attempt to do.
She was afraid of herself. The touch of his hand on hers was warm, commanding...inviting. She wanted to accept that invitation; she wanted to feel more and more of him...
Face it, she was attracted to him. Very attracted to him.
Which was a damned good thing! her mind hollered out even as she faced him with a smile on her lips and a guard carefully cast over her eyes. She was plotting to marry
“I think I’ll start with everything,” Sloan murmured, a little uneasy since she had so openly pried and thinking it might be to her benefit to keep her mouth busy for a while with food. “I just realized I’m ravenous, and...you are very good at this!”
“Thank you.” Wes dunked a shrimp into the plastic container of cocktail sauce and popped it into her mouth. He laughed at her surprised expression, and the unease she had been feeling slipped away.
They both talked as they ate, and they began to learn a great deal about one another. While she managed to draw information diplomatically from Wesley about his summer camp and the battering years of pro football, he managed to get her talking about Terry. It was strange that she could talk about her deceased husband with Wes, a man she was supposedly seducing, when she found it difficult to talk about Terry to anyone. But he seemed interested, genuinely sympathetic. He seemed to offer her strength...silly. It was simply the way he was built, and the character that the years had ingrained in his face. Next to such a man it was easy to feel that he could take away the cares of the world and set them upon his own broad shoulders.
It was later in the day, after a bottle of wine and a half of the feast he had provided had been consumed, that Sloan contentedly made an admission to herself.
She was happy. Honest-to-God happy. Wesley had made no passes at her, but she felt herself drawn to him, at ease with him, comfortably so. He sat beside her, his compelling green eyes laughed into hers, his strong hand brushed over hers often, naturally. And she could feel him, his heat, his suppressed strength, his handsome frame so close to hers that it almost made her dizzy.
No, it was the wine making her dizzy. No, it was Wesley...
She blushed suddenly as they lay in lazy companionship, comfortably relaxed beneath the sycamore. She realized where her thoughts had been taking her.
She had been wondering what it would be like to be held in his arms...to feel his lips commanding hers...to lie beside him, flesh against flesh, and feel the mastery of his superb muscles...It was more than a blush, and she was glad his astute green eyes were idly upon the sky instead of her. Crimson splashed its way through her body, heating her from head to toe. What’s the matter with me? she demanded of herself. I’m not that sort of person!
But something else inside of her was crying out. What sort of a person. It had been so long...and she was a mature woman, a normal woman. It was only natural that she should feel the need for strong, masculine arms around her, revel in the faint and intoxicating aroma of after-shave and...and...simple maleness.
“Shall we?”
“What?” Startled, Sloan glanced at Wes. He was no longer watching the sky; he was watching her.
“Sleeping on me, huh?” he teased, knowing full well her mind had wandered. “Nice. Real nice. I take the girl out and put her right to sleep! I said, ‘Shall we take a walk?’”
“Oh—uh—yes, sure.” She smiled quickly. “A walk sounds nice.”
Wesley rose, moving with the agility that only an athlete could possess, and extended a hand to Sloan. She unwound her own legs and gracefully accepted his assistance up, her mind beginning to race.
Where was he leading her...?
It was a public park, she told herself coldly. He wasn’t leading her anywhere. But she began to feel a tinge of fear, and it had nothing to do with Wesley’s far superior strength or what he might attempt to do.
She was afraid of herself. The touch of his hand on hers was warm, commanding...inviting. She wanted to accept that invitation; she wanted to feel more and more of him...
Face it, she was attracted to him. Very attracted to him.
Which was a damned good thing! her mind hollered out even as she faced him with a smile on her lips and a guard carefully cast over her eyes. She was plotting to marry
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