From the Author
In the dimly lit study, where the soft hiss of a fire dying played its own tune, James placed her solidly in front of him. "One kiss, you said. Well, one kiss is what you'll get if it will end this."
She stared at him with big round eyes. After a moment, a nervous half smile tipped the edges of her lush mouth.
Oh God, her mouth. Oh hell, her mouth.
What he intended was sheer madness. He knew in that moment he should halt this silly game of hers. But it was either this or commit unspeakable acts with her out on the dance floor. He could almost hear the report of the pistol when Armstrong buried a bullet in his chest. At this point, he would do anything to end her flirtation. Her infatuation. The bloody chase. In this instance, the ends did indeed justify the means.
Surely he had enough willpower to remain impassive and unmoved for the duration of one bloody kiss? Good Lord, no matter what other appeal she possessed, Missy was a virgin. He preferred his women with much more expertise in the sexual arena.
But what she'd lacked in experience she'd made up in passion. He dismissed the provoking voice playing tantalizing games with his mind.
"Well?" Now it was his turn to challenge her.
"Are you not going to kiss me?" She shifted on her feet, looking younger and more uncertain than her years.
"This kiss was not my idea. You're the one who won't stop until we dispel the mystery of whatever you think is between us. Go ahead, dispel away."
They stared at each other for several more seconds before Missy stepped forward and leaned until the silk corsage of her gown met the wool and satin of his jacket. James tried to ignore the shock of desire that pierced him and had him again rethinking his stratagem.
Tipping her head back, she placed her hands upon his shoulders, and when her eyes fluttered close, touched her lips to his. He remained still, afraid to move a single muscle--at least of those he could control. She pressed her lips more firmly against his closed mouth, her breasts flush against his chest. A jolt of lust coursed down to his loins.
Enough! He couldn't draw a decent sanity-giving breath.
He lifted his hands to remove hers. There, she'd received her kiss. Now, if God above took pity on him, she'd leave him in peace. But before he could remove the hands from his shoulders, her arms wound tightly about his neck, forcing his head lower. That was when she began the true assault.
About the Author
Asthe mother of one too bright and mischievous young boy, she pullsfull-time duty on all fronts. When she's not working full-time,mothering, writing, reading or running The Season Book Review site, she's probably sleeping and dreaming of a time when she'll have time for her favorite hobbies: knitting,crocheting and sewing.
Beverley has lived on two continents, inthree countries, two provinces, and four states. She stopped her nomadic existence and settled in the southeast. All things artistic feed hercreative passion, but none more than writing. Readers can visit her at:beverleykendall.com or TheSeasonForRomance.com