Was it true? Maybe she just had good posture from training for beauty pageants. You care very much about everything you do." I can see that the way you carry yourself.
"I've been told I try too hard to please. "That's true." She let out a nervous laugh. And the tilt of your eyes tells me that you like to make people happy." "That dimple in your chin tells me you smile a lot. I'm getting self conscious." Two plastic surgery consultations had reassured her that it wasn't yet time to get drastic, but at thirty-one, Samantha knew she was no longer at the peak of her once-prize-winning beauty. All the little dimples and wrinkles reveal something." "Facial expression tells you what matters to someone, not just while you look at them, but every day. "What do you look for?" She tried to ignore the steady warmth of his big hand on her back. She used to read tea leaves, but she told me her secret was always to read the people as they stared at the leaves." "You don't have to make polite conversation with me. Those rich, honey eyes gazed at her, twinkling with amusement. "I like your shirt." She risked a glance at his face. He smelled of spices, like the rich food she'd eaten, and of starched cotton. She tried to focus on the steps, on moving gracefully, and keeping enough distance between her and her partner. Her feet slipped into the mambo rhythm, following the patterns she'd learned years ago at Ms. So near she could feel the heat of him through her clothes. "What kind of dance are we going to do?" She didn't dare look up at his face. The warmth of his blood seemed to pulse through his skin and heat hers as the music beat around them. He took her hand and clasped it softly, wrapping long, strong fingers around hers. His jaw was solid, authoritative, like the rest of him. Her eyes were about level with his shirt collar, which had fine pattern of irregular stripes. Through the sensual mist it created, she couldn't help but notice her partner was tall and broad shouldered. The music hovered around them like smoke, filling the space between them. Sam felt a shimmer of excitement as they stepped out onto the smooth wood floor. He made a signal to the guitarist, who winked and struck up a new tune. Besides, what was wrong with one little dance? Tarrant would rather see her moving than moping around. She was nothing if not polite, the society-wife training ensured that.
0 kommentar(er)
