As I said this is a very sexy book.
Therefor some of the book excerpts on this page contain adult content, so please be aware that if you are under 18 years of age close this page and don’t precede further.
Trusting he didn’t hear me and hoping I don’t have to toss everything I own out, I furtively dig into the side pocket of my case and score my sunglasses. Then I settle back, my tortoiseshell Zias shading me from this man’s blinding light and him from my blatant appraisal.
He raises his eyebrows halfway to his hairline in a look of complete disbelief. I seem to have that effect on people. It gets ten times worse if I want to impress someone and usually results in someone being upset; most often that someone is me. Of course, none of those inconsequential little details is apparent from behind my disguise. I hope.
I continue to eye-strip him. I don’t know who the hell you are, mister, but … I’m happy to spring for a San Francisco apartment—or one right here in Singapore. I fancy losing myself in your arms for, oh, say, a month?
I rescan his stunning face—no, he’s just a little too delectable, looks the risky kind; make that six months.
Siobhan, you couldn’t hold the interest of a man like that for six minutes.
Still, those carved full lips would be a sanctuary, fashioned perfectly for kissing mine. Dark double-chocolate eyes, breathtaking …
Hang on, not all good—those dark irises are flashing indignation and now they’re closing me out. Not even six seconds? He looks rather offended, even affronted. My fantasies of posting a romantic rendezvous selfie to Instagram taken on a San Francisco cable car just got nixed—what a crime. This fine masculine thing of beauty is using those gorgeous eyes to tell me he doesn’t like me.
In my head I replay the word recherché. Hell, men like him are rare, but possibly he didn’t take it in the spirit it was meant. Plus closing him out with the sunglasses—downright rude, and here he was trying to be helpful, all pretty delivery, synthy-smooth voice, and polite manner.