Courting Bathsheba

by Grace Draven

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Copyright ©2008 by Grace Draven

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 Courting Bathsheba
by Grace Draven

CONTENTS

Also By Grace Draven

COURTING BATHSHEBA
Grace Draven
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by Grace Draven

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by Grace Draven

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 Courting Bathsheba
by Grace Draven

COURTING BATHSHEBA

On a sunny spring day Ann MacLeod celebrated her fiftieth

birthday by getting divorced, going shopping, and getting
laid.
The last hadn't been on the agenda when she left the
house and drove into town for a day of self-indulgence and
some maudlin reminiscence. Her son had sat at the breakfast
table as she readied to leave, picking at his scrambled eggs
and eyeing her with grave concern.
"Jason, stop it," she said and tossed her keys in her purse.
"You've been doing that since yesterday."
His wide-eyed, innocent expression was less than
convincing. "Doing what? I'm just sitting here eating." He
shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth for emphasis.
Ann stared at him over the rim of her sunglasses. "Please.
You know what I'm talking about. You're drilling holes into my
back every time I walk in the room and looking at me as if I'll
drop dead any minute. I'm divorced, sweetie, not dying."
He put his fork down and sighed. "Yeah, I know. It's just
weird. Even when I've had months to get used to it, it's still
weird. I can't believe Dad wanted out."
She shrugged and walked to the table. "Well, he did, and
to be honest, so did I." She kissed the top of his blond head.
"I know it's tough. There are moments when I think it's
strange, too. If it makes you feel any better, your dad and I
are probably better friends now than when we lived together."

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Ann didn't lie. For the past eight years of their marriage,
she and Peter had shared a house, the bills, and nothing else.
At first, it hurt and confused her. Peter had never been a
passionate nor demonstrative type, even in the first few years
of their relationship. Time, children, and a growing distance
too wide to bridge at the end had led to an atmosphere of
quiet resentment and barely civil conversation. When he'd
asked for a separation, Ann had been almost relieved. With
the divorce, she found closure.
Her stomach turned a little when she received the divorce
degree the day before her birthday. Somehow, making it
official made it unavoidably real. Still, she had no regrets.
Twenty-six years of a life with someone you once loved
wasn't wasted in her opinion. They were just part of life's
lessons, and she planned to put them to good use in her new
single status.
"Want me to go with you today? It is your birthday. We
can do whatever you want." Jason raised his set of keys and
jingled them.
Ann laughed. "Aren't you and Kim supposed to spend the
weekend together? I thought there was some big gathering
on campus."
He shrugged. "The main stuff takes place tomorrow. I can
be with you today."
She wanted to hug him. Of her three children, Jason had
always been the one closest to her, the most protective. Ann
enjoyed his company, but today was her day-time for her to
just breathe, loiter in the stores, and do what she wanted

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without regard to someone else's wishes and desires. Time to

consider a new phase in her life.
"I'll take a rain check. You two have been talking about
this for a couple of weeks now." She kissed his cheek. "See
you later. Have fun, and tell Kim I said hi."
An hour later found her parked on a quaint side street just
off one of the city's most popular shopping districts. Ann
spent the day browsing the stores, enjoying the sunshine,
and treating herself to a couple of books from an independent
bookstore that specialized in rare editions and was monitored
by a huge cat the owner affectionately called Smedley. As a
last indulgence, she bought herself a small box of expensive
chocolates.
"A measly box of chocolate shouldn't cost this much," she
murmured under her breath as she fished the box out of her
shopping bag. Obviously a savvy someone in a corporate
marketing department had a handle on the consumer
mentality. Stick a picture of a naked woman riding a horse on
a piece of chocolate, wrap it in a shiny gold box with a fancy
ribbon, and people paid small fortunes for the chance to enjoy
one of life's guiltier, high-calorie pleasures.
She turned the small box over in her hand repeatedly as
she made her leisurely way down the sidewalk. The chocolate
was a frivolous purchase, but today was her fiftieth birthday,
and some days deserved a little more frivolity than others. An
ornate clock showcased in a shop window caught her
attention. It was almost 5:00 P.M. The hours had flown by. It
had been fun, but it was time to get home.

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Ann was less than a block from her car when the sound of
music drifted to her ears from one of the Victorian-style
buildings lining the walk. She paused and glanced up at the
sign. O'Malley's Irish Pub. But the music pouring out the
doors into the street was distinctly Latin. Someone in there
played Spanish guitar with his soul on the strings. The
flamenco tune pulled her toward the door like a sleepwalker.
Before she realized it, she was standing in the entrance,
blinking rapidly to adjust to the pub's dim interior. It was a
tastefully decorated place, paneled in burled walnut, with soft
ambient lighting casting amber shadows across the walls.
Tables shared space with intimate booths tucked into alcoves
for privacy. The clientele was a mix of weekend shoppers and
college students. Half the tables were full, and Ann suspected
that by nine or ten, the place would be packed with patrons.
She gazed at the stage where the guitar's seductive strains
originated. A man sat relaxed in a chair, surrounded by
instruments and sound equipment. He was lost in the music
he made, head bent as his fingers fluttered across the guitar
strings, caressing and dancing with delicate skill. Ann
wondered if he pictured a passionate Spanish dancer behind
his lids as the music spun a hypnotic web throughout the pub,
entrapping the visitors who listened and clapped in time to
the rhythm.
It would be nice to stay and hear more of the beautiful
music. After all, a birthday was a time to indulge. A box of
expensive chocolate, a glass of wine, and a few minutes of
listening to the strains of flamenco were not going to bring
the world to an end. Besides, there would be no one at home
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when she got there except the pets, and they wouldn't
begrudge her another hour. Ann stepped inside.
The bar was deserted, patrons preferring tables close to
the stage. She found a seat and set her small package down
with her bag. The bartender approached with a smile, a tea
towel slung casually over one shoulder. Before she could call
her drink, he tapped a finger on the chocolate box.
"I have just the thing to go with that chocolate. My wife
swears it's a combination almost as good as sex. You a wine
drinker?"
Ann laughed, surprised. "Yes. What do you suggest?"
He held up a hand and went to the far end of the bar
where a wine refrigerator stood recessed into a back wall. He
returned carrying a chilled bottle and a single glass. She
watched as he expertly popped the cork and poured a tawny
colored wine into the glass, swirling it around before handing
it to her with a flourish.
"Take a whiff, and tell me what you think."
She brought the glass to her nose and breathed in the
wine's cool bouquet—fruity, with a hint of vanilla and sugar.
"This is lovely. What is it?"
"Lagrima. A sweet white port. An excellent dessert wine
that goes well with chocolate. Try it out with some of yours,
and I swear you'll think you've died and gone to heaven."
A tentative sip and her eyebrows rose. The port tasted as
good as it smelled. Ann grinned at the bartender. "Thanks for
the recommendation. I bet this would go well with birthday
cake, too."

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"Your birthday, today?" Ann nodded, and he gestured to

the glass. "Then it's on the house. Enjoy." He waved away her
thanks and left to take another drink order.
Decadent as the chocolate, the port was cold, sweet and
heavy on the tongue. She could see why the man's wife liked
it so much. Ah well, no time like the present. The rich scent of
chocolate drifted to her nose as she opened the small box and
eyed the four pieces of candy nestled in their wrappers. Of
course, it would have to be the truffle.
The first bite of chocolate followed by the sip of wine, and
she understood why some thought chocolate and port equaled
great sex. Her taste buds were in the midst of an oral
orgasm. The flamenco music continued to thrum in her ears
as she sinned against every dietary god ever created.
Ann finished her truffle and turned to watch the guitarist
play. He surveyed the small crowd in the pub, smiling briefly
at some of the patrons who sat near the stage. He was a
handsome man, somewhere in his thirties she guessed, with
long legs and a slim physique. Auburn hair hung in casual
waves to his shoulders, and he sported a close-clipped beard
the same shade as his hair.
Dressed in jeans and a cotton pullover, he cut an attractive
figure. Judging by the flirtatious smiles he received from a
table of young twenty-something women, Ann wasn't the only
one who thought so. She mentally shrugged. Who could
blame them? A musician—bohemian, with a sensitive face,
wide smile and graceful hands. That type had a certain appeal
no starched up business suit with a fist full of money could
ever match.
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He caught her gaze and winked. She shook her head and
turned back to the bar, smiling into her wineglass as she took
another sip. What a flirt.
The guitarist played a few minutes more before the music
faded to silence. A round of applause from the growing crowd
of visitors followed, along with calls for more music. With the
strains of the flamenco replaced by a more contemporary
recorded tune, there was no longer any reason to linger. Ann
considered downing the port in a last gulp before leaving the
bar and making the trek home.
Wine splashed against the glass as a low, smooth voice
interrupted her thoughts. "Hello. Mind if I take this seat?"
She stared at the guitarist in open surprise for a moment
before glancing down the length of the bar. There were
several empty chairs for him to choose from besides the one
right next to her.
He followed her gaze. "I don't want to bother you. I can sit
somewhere else."
She had no doubt he'd be enthusiastically welcomed at any
of the occupied tables if he chose. Why on earth he asked to
sit by her was beyond her, but she didn't want to be rude and
planned to leave soon. What could it hurt?
"No, no. Please sit. You're not bothering me. I have to go
soon anyway." A faint shadow of disappointment crossing his
features.
He gestured to her glass. "What are you drinking?"
"Port. The bartender recommended it for the chocolate."
Her new companion smiled. "Mike has a sweet tooth a mile
wide and is a real connoisseur of dessert wines and candy.
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Knows his stuff." He pointed to the opened box of chocolate

with its missing piece. "I see you took his advice. What did
you think?"
He must be a regular. On first name basis with the
bartender and familiar with the man's particular gastronomic
tastes. She gave him a tentative smile. "Wonderful stuff.
Almost too sinful to consume, but I've shoved away the guilt
for a minute or two."
Mike interrupted their conversation and slid a tumbler of
amber liquid to the guitarist. "Hey, Dave. Nice practice. You
gonna play any of that next Saturday, or are the guys not
including it in the set?"
"Not in the set. I doubt the usual Saturday night crowd
would go for that kind of thing."
Ann thought that a shame. The music was what drew her
into O'Malley's, and she told him so. "I thought the flamenco
was beautiful. I heard it when I was outside and had to come
in. I understand Spanish guitar is hard to master."
He smiled, the tiny lines at the corner of his eyes
deepening. "You like flamenco?"
She nodded. "Yes, I do. It's not something I listen to often,
but I heard you play and couldn't resist coming in to hear
more."
Mike tapped the bar's edge with his hand. "See? I know a
good thing when I hear it, dude. You draw in customers on
your own. If the band won't agree to play it, why not try a
few sets on an off night? Wednesdays maybe? The crowd's
not bad at happy hour and most come in during the week to
blow off some steam and relax before heading home. They're
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not up for a lot of guitar riffs, just some good tunes.

Something a little different from the usual fare. Think about
it. And with it just being you, you'd have a hundred percent of
the take."
Her new companion shrugged. "I'll think about it. But it
won't be regular until summer when school's out, and I have
the time off."
The statement caught her interest. "Are you a teacher?"
"Yeah. High school. World History." He held out his hand.
"I'm David, David Abrams. I go by either Dave or David." He
had long fingers and short, well-manicured nails.
She shook his hand, feeling the rough slide of a palm and
callused fingertips against hers. "I like David more than Dave.
I'm Ann."
"Ann what?"
Handsome yes, but still a stranger. She was wary of saying
too much. "Just Ann."
David raised an eyebrow. "Well, Just Ann, are you in town
shopping the district today?"
She hesitated, not sure how much she wanted to engage
this man in conversation. Situations like these were very
much out of her comfort zone, especially now that she was
officially unattached. Still, they were in a public place, and his
question was nothing more than an effort to make friendly
conversation. Ann could imagine her son's comment.
"Loosen up, Mom. You're not on trial."
He was right. Today was the perfect day for relaxing and
enjoying the moment, and who wouldn't enjoy the company

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of a handsome man with a winsome smile and a soul for

music?
They spent the next few minutes in casual conversation as
she finished her port, and he asked her questions. Ann
enjoyed listening to him. He was soft-spoken, with a deep,
articulated cadence to his voice. A constant thread of humor
ran through his comments—nothing mocking, just natural, as
if he laughed easily.
She told him of her reason for visiting the city. "I turned
fifty today." She waited for him to stiffen in his seat before
making some polite excuse to leave and find company with
others closer to his age.
Ann had no reason to hide her years from him. She was
here for a drink, not a date. Besides, if the silver running
through her shoulder-length hair and the shallow crows feet
at the corner of her eyes didn't give him a clue to her age, he
needed to see an optometrist.
She was proud of this particular birthday. At fifty she'd
accomplished many of the things she'd dreamed of, both
academically and emotionally. The woman she was at thirty
and forty was a shadow compared to the one she was now.
She wasn't, however, used to attracting the attention of a
man at least a decade younger than her. Call it new to the
singles scene, but she found it odd that he made a point to
seek her out and strike up conversation.
A pleasant warmth settled in the pit of her stomach when
David waved Mike over and ordered another round for them
both. Ann refused. "That's very nice of you, but I can't. I need
to get home."
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His lovely, whiskey-smooth voice dropped an octave. "One

glass. A toast to your birthday. You don't have to drink it all,
although it would be a waste of good Lagrima if you don't."
He probably employed that coaxing voice often, convincing
others, especially women, to go along with any plan or
suggestion he might conceive. A high school teacher, eh?
She'd bet good money the estrogen levels could be read on
the Richter scale at staff meetings.
She smiled faintly. "You are a charming flirt." He flashed
her an answering smile. "All right. A quick toast and then I
have to go."
Mike brought two new glasses, and David made the toast.
"To Ann, a lovely woman with a fine taste for chocolate." He
tilted his tumbler toward her open box of chocolate. "Happy
birthday."
Their glasses clinked together, and she sipped the port
before sliding the gold box toward him. "I'm sorry. I'm being
rude. Would you like a piece?"
"No thanks. While good with a port wine, it won't go so
well with single malt."
They shared another toast. "So, what are your big plans
for celebrating your birthday?"
Big plans? Ann shrugged. There weren't any. She and the
kids would get together tomorrow night, go out to a nearby
restaurant, come home, and have cake her eldest daughter
bought at Ann's favorite bakery. After that, TV and bed. Not
exactly the life of a socialite.
"Ann?" His question drew her out of her inward musings.
He was gazing at her, still smiling, but with an intensity that
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made her wonder if her thoughts played out in her

expressions. She answered him before he could read any
more into her momentary silence.
"Probably just a family get-together. You know, cake,
some cards. Loved ones singing off-key. The usual. Trust me,
the more of these birthdays you accumulate, the less you
want to celebrate them."
He laughed. "You can't look at it that way, you know. It's
always good to celebrate a birthday. You made it through
another year. You're not doing time in prison, in a trench
fighting a war, homeless under a bridge, or attending a
funeral. It's not celebrating getting older. It's celebrating
being alive and well."
She eyed him, astounded. Awfully wise for one his age,
and she liked his perspective. Overly optimistic maybe, but
was that such a bad thing? "You know, I never thought of it
that way, but I probably will from now on. Thank you for that.
It's a good philosophy."
He clinked glasses with her. "My pleasure. I always like to
bring a smile to a beautiful woman's face."
She grimaced. "Okay, you can stop now. You're laying it
on with a trowel, unless you're talking to someone behind me
or an imaginary friend. If the second, I'll just think you're a
nut job and make my very quick exit out of here."
His smile teased her. "There's no one behind you, and I'm
not talking to an imaginary friend. I'm being honest."
"Have a thing for older women, do you?"
"No. I have a thing for pretty women."

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Ann tried suppressing the blush that heated her throat and
traveled to her cheeks. Her gaze slid to one of the tables
where a group of college students openly admired David.
"Then why aren't you sitting with them?" She cocked her
head in their direction.
He never took his eyes off of her. "Because I think I'm
sitting with the prettiest woman in Mike's right now."
Her attempts to kill the blush failed miserably. Thank God
for ambient lighting. She was far too worldly to be reduced to
a red-faced sorority twit by her companion's undeniable
charms. Ann grew uncomfortable and not a little annoyed.
"I have to go," she said abruptly and slid off of her stool.
David brushed her arm with his fingertips, and she jerked
away from his touch. He looked confused and disappointed.
"Wait! Look, I'm sorry if I said something to offend you. God
only knows what it was, but I apologize. Really. Don't leave."
He raised his hands in surrender. "I promise, no more
compliments, even though I meant every word I said."
She paused, indecisive. The image of the dull drive home,
the silence of the deserted house, and dinner spent alone was
not particularly inviting, especially when compared to the
interesting if somewhat baffling company present.
He wasted no time pouncing on her hesitation. "What
would you say if I asked you to dinner?"
"What?"
His tone was patient, amused. "I want to ask you to
dinner. What would you say?"
He showed no surprise at her answer. "I think I'd say no.
For all I know, you're a homicidal maniac or worse."
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That ready laughter warmed her insides. "First I'm a nut

job, then a psycho killer. And there's something worse than
that?"
She didn't join in his laughter, giving him a brief glimpse
into her anxiety. "Yes. You may actually be this nice,
handsome, young guy who's truly interested in having dinner
with me."
His sensitive features turned solemn. "Then things just got
worse." A loaded silence hung between them before he spoke
again. "Say yes to dinner. There's an Italian joint four doors
down that serves the best lasagna in a one hundred mile
radius. If it makes you feel any better, we'll go dutch, as long
as you let me pick up dessert. You can't miss out on the
tiramisu."
She bit her lip, fiddling nervously with the shopping bag. "I
really need to get home."
Again he treated her to a penetrating gaze that seemed to
strip her of all her mental and emotional armor and discern all
of her thoughts and feelings. "Do you?"
The florescent Bass Ale clock behind the bar caught her
eye, flashing 6:15 P.M., and she took a mental breath before
answering. "Oh, why the hell not? I love lasagna. But if you
pick up the dessert, I'll get the appetizer. Fair enough? And
no more beautiful woman lines, okay?"
She couldn't help but smile when David grinned. He slid off
his stool, fished around in his jeans pocket for his wallet and
paid for their drinks. "I promise, no more compliments, no
matter how well deserved or honestly spoken."

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Oooh, he really was slick. Even by promising not to

compliment, he'd managed to do so and made her blush a
second time. She clutched her shopping bag and placed her
fingers lightly on the arm he courteously extended. She felt
the weight of envious stares from the sorority table and
almost gave in to the urge to give them a gloating smile.
Score one for the menopausal.
David called out to Mike. "Watch my stuff, would ya? I'll be
back for it before closing." The bartender nodded and waved
in acknowledgement.
She called out a thank you to the bartender for the free
wine and the suggestion. He had helped make her birthday a
very nice one so far. Her fingers slid from David's arm as he
slowed to open the pub door for her. Diffused sunlight shot
bars of golden rays into the dim pub, and she squinted for a
moment to readjust her sight to the greater brightness. In
the waning daylight, her dinner date's hair glowed a deep
russet, and his beard was speckled with tiny blond hairs. He
dug into his shirt pocket, pulling out a pair of sunglasses. The
glasses gave him a more austere look, highlighting the cut of
his cheekbones and the slope of his prominent nose. She
could just make out his eyes behind the dark shades.
"Ready? I promise you'll like this place. Pasquali's has
been here since I was in grade school. I worked there as a
busboy when I was a teenager. If I was a condemned man,
I'd request the lasagna for my last meal." He kissed the tip of
his fingers and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

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She laughed. "Well, after playing it up like that, I expect to

be served heaven on a plate. Lead on, Mr. Abrams. My
stomach is already growling."
He paused. "Remember, David or Dave. No Mr. Abrams."
"Okay ... David."
David extended his arm again, and she took it gingerly,
barely resting her fingers on his elbow as they continued their
walk to the restaurant. It was a short trip, and she was
relieved that the restaurant was not one with a romantic
ambience. Some small part of her remained doubtful of her
decision to accompany a virtual stranger on a dinner date. A
place sporting candle-lit alcoves and cooing couples would
have been uncomfortable. Pasquali's was an antithesis to that
image.
Well lit and crowded, it was a casual place with tables,
booths, and a generous bar area that overlooked a bustling
open kitchen swarming with cooks and waiters. The clientele
was a mixture of couples, families, and singles groups out for
a good meal, good conversation or a break from cooking duty
at home. She liked it immediately and smiled her approval to
her companion.
He winked at her behind the dark shades before removing
them and dropping them back in his shirt pocket. "Pasquali's
is a great place. I promise you'll like it. Booth, table or bar?"
She surveyed the crowded room. "I don't care. You pick.
Just nothing in the smoking section or close to the
bathrooms. Too much constant people traffic."
"Good point. Okay. Nothing near the bathrooms."

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The hostess led them to a booth in a far corner of the

room. Placed along the wall and out of the main flow of
traffic, the noise was muted, and they didn't have to shout at
each other to be heard.
David scanned the menu. "They mix a good white sangria
here. Want to try it? They serve it by the glass or in a carafe."
The sangria sounded lovely, but she'd already downed two
glasses of port and there was still the drive home. "I don't
think so. Maybe just water with lemon for now."
Ann crunched on a bread stick and stared at David
curiously. "What made you decide to become a teacher? It
can't be for the money."
He stiffened, and his mouth tightened before he answered.
"No, I'll never get rich, but I like it. The kids can be
frustrating sometimes, but I remember that age. I wasn't too
interested in the idea of Columbus sailing the ocean blue in
1492. I was more fascinated in staring at Kari Simpson's legs
in class." His smile reappeared. "I guess it was that clichéd
idea of being able to make a difference, do something that
had a positive influence on someone else." He blew out a
frustrated sigh. "It doesn't always work that way, and
administration can really tie your hands. What about you?
Accountant? Public relations guru?"
This was too good to be true. Not only good-looking, down
to earth and artistically inclined, but someone she could relate
to on a professional level. He had to be gay and just hiding it.
Or an ex-mob hit man in the witness protection program. If
Peter were like this, they'd still be married.
Ann smiled. "I'm a teacher, too. Freshman English."
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"No kidding?" He laughed. "A partner in misery then. I've

substituted for ninth grade before." He grimaced. "You must
have the patience of Job. There's something exceptionally
obnoxious and smartass about that age group."
"They have their moments, but it's not so bad. You can't
always get them to listen, and they have the focus and
memory of gnats sometimes, but I don't think I have to deal
with as much of the mouthiness as you would."
They were briefly interrupted by the waiter who took their
orders. As they waited for the meal to arrive, David asked her
questions about school, her family, and what interests she
had. While Ann didn't reveal their names, she did tell him of
her three children, the fact that she was involved part-time in
academia and had a few essays published in historical
journals.
David eyed her with sudden intensity. "You know, I noticed
you the minute you stepped into O'Malley's. You looked
familiar. Historical journals? Did you attend or panel a
seminar last summer on famous women in history?"
Ann gaped at him. He couldn't have surprised her more
than if he'd suddenly climbed on top of their table and started
singing an aria. "Yes, I did. One just outside DC. I gave a
presentation on the Biblical figure Bathsheba." She wracked
her brain for some recollection of seeing him at the seminar,
but nothing came to mind.
He slapped his hand on the table. "I knew it. I was there.
The entire seminar was interesting—if you're a history buff."
David grinned as if she'd just handed him a winning lottery
ticket. "I liked your lecture. Bathsheba is a fascinating Biblical
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character." He snapped a breadstick in two. "You wore a blue-

gray shirt, and your hair was shorter."
Tabletop arias and lottery winnings didn't hold a candle to
this. Ann was almost speechless. "That was almost a year
ago. You remember me ... and what I wore?"
David shrugged and gave her a teasing grin. "I have a
decent memory for some things, though I can't remember
your last name to save my life. You were very eye-catching."
He held up a hand when she frowned. "I didn't say 'beautiful.'
I said 'eye-catching.'"
"Semantics."
"They're what make the world go around."
"Haha." She shook her head. "I can't believe you
remember me. There must have been twenty lecturers there."
She winced. "Did I look nervous?"
"Nah. You looked great." His gaze intensified once more. "I
was hoping to talk to you after the lecture but was waylaid by
an acquaintance. Once I managed to get free, you were gone.
I didn't see you for the rest of the conference."
The revelation surprised her. Ann was tempted to ask why
he wanted to talk with her then. Her lecture had been no
different than any of the others presented. Maybe less
polished. Public speaking wasn't her favorite thing, and she
remembered stuttering once.
David must have seen the question in her eyes. "I wanted
to ask you out to dinner."
She gave him a dubious look. "Right."
"Take my word for it." He snapped another breadstick in
two. "I don't know why you find it hard to believe, but I was
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interested then. I'm interested now." His gaze slid to her

ringless hand. "You married?"
Ann checked out his hand as well. No wedding ring, but
that didn't mean anything. A lot of men didn't wear one. "I
was then. Are you?"
"I wasn't then. I'm not now." He smiled. "Seems Fate has
a way of working out. You probably would've said no to dinner
then."
She smiled. "Probably." But oh what a stroke to her ego if
he had asked her then. Her marriage at that point had
breathed its death rattle, and she was at her lowest. David
Abrams, with his smiling green eyes and charm, would have
floored her with his question and left her grinning for days.
Just like now.
The lasagna arrived and there was a short pause in
conversation as they each dished up a serving. "You're right.
This is fantastic," she said after the first bite.
He smiled, obviously pleased by her approval of the food.
"Just wait. The tiramisu will blow you away."
As the meal progressed, they revealed more to each other.
He had a nine year old daughter from a failed marriage, and
shared joint custody with his ex-wife. "She's a good kid. Her
mother and I divorced when she was four, but we kept it
friendly for her sake. And there was never any question about
the joint custody. I get her six months out of the year starting
in summer, with visitation every two weeks when she's with
her mom. It works the same the other way around."

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That was nice to hear. Divorces that ended badly often had
damaging effects on the children caught in the middle. She'd
seen the negative impact it had on some of her own students.
Ann took a sip of her water before asking, "Are you looking
forward to having her with you for the rest of the year?"
He pulled out his wallet from a back pocket. "Oh yeah. My
kid means everything to me. It's like getting Christmas early
and celebrating for six months. I always have a rough time
when she goes back to her mom." He handed her a photo.
"That's her. Melissa. I call her Missy sometimes just to get a
reaction. She hates it. Thinks it sounds too babyish."
The photo revealed a pretty young girl with her father's
hair and smile. Her features were just beginning to mature,
moving slowly into the awkward stage of pre-adolescence.
The hints of beauty were already there. David Abrams was
going to have his hands full when "Missy" hit her teens. She
returned the picture.
"She's lovely. I can see your smile, and the hair is
unmistakable."
He beamed with pride and slid the photo carefully back
into his wallet. "Thanks. They grow up quick, don't they?"
"Yes, they do."
David waited for her to finish the last of her lasagna before
asking, "Well? What do you think?"
Her eyes rolled in ecstasy as she set her fork down and
wiped her mouth with her napkin. "God, that was positively
sinful. There must have be ten pounds of ricotta in each bite.
Who do I have to kill to get the recipe?"

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He laughed. "I worked here two years and never found

out. Closely guarded secret that goes back to some immigrant
relative from Naples. I have my doubts. The DeLucas have
been here for several generations, and there's some German
blood mixed in with all that Italian. What do you want a bet
some aunt with a surname of Reichmann or Knopf came up
with this recipe?"
His irreverence and humor were infectious, and she lost
count of the times he made her laugh during their dinner
conversation. He was easy to talk to, non-threatening but
always exuding a latent sensuality that sent every feminine
instinct in her body to buzzing.
By the time the tiramisu arrived, she found herself
revealing things normally kept close to the vest. Ann told him
more of her published essays—she was a history fan, too. The
writing paid in personal satisfaction more than money, and
that was fine with her. They commiserated over school
administrations and obnoxious kids with even more obnoxious
parents. She bragged on her children and their
accomplishments, and even ranted a little over their annoying
habits. Only when it came to her ex-husband, did she grow
reticent, feeling that if there was little positive to say, then
things should be left private and unsaid. David didn't push,
only steered the conversation to one of her more light-
hearted statements.
"So Alan Rickman is your favorite actor? I've seen him in a
few things. He doesn't always take on the best roles but he
works brilliantly with what's handed to him. And let me guess,
you're in lust with his voice?"
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"Definitely, as are thousands of other women ages nine to

ninety. That voice just oozes sexuality. The man could make
love by simply reading poetry."
He sputtered into his soda at her statement, and his eyes
glittered with laughter. "Wow. That's impressive. But I can
sympathize."
Her brows rose. "Oh? Do you have a thing for Alan
Rickman, too?"
Ann like his laughter. Easy to surface, low and vibrant. She
wondered if he realized just how seductive his humor was.
"No. Not my type. Judi Dench is more my speed."
The fork holding the piece of tiramisu wobbled dangerously
as she paused in her eating to stare at him. "You're kidding.
We're talking the British actress, right? Played Mrs. Brown? M
in James Bond? The Dame Judi Dench?"
David grinned at her surprise. "Yep. Most gorgeous woman
to walk the planet, in my opinion. Lusted after her since the
first time I ever saw her on the big screen. Proud,
independent, and always a lady." He shrugged. "At least
that's what she portrays on the screen."
The man really did have a thing for older women. "How old
is your ex-wife?"
He caught onto her game, and his grin widened. "Six and a
half years younger than me, and I'm thirty-nine. So, no, it's
not an age thing." He drummed his fingers on the table. "You
know, when I saw you in Mike's, you reminded me a lot of
Dame Dench."
His statement knocked Ann flat. The tiramisu was
dangerously close to ending up in her lap, so she lowered her
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fork to her dessert plate and narrowed her eyes at him. "I
don't look a thing like her. And she's a lot older than me."
David shrugged. "I didn't say you looked like her. You
don't by a long shot. Just that something about you made me
think of her. Same composure, same pride."
He had broken his promise not to dish out the
compliments, but he had such a way of giving them that they
were neither gushing nor insincere, just points in his
conversation. Very charming indeed.
"Thank you. That's very nice of you to say."
She almost laughed aloud at the hint of relief in his green
eyes. He had been expecting her to rebuke him. Really, there
was only so much reserve you could show before the other
person started to see you as an ice queen or a bitch, and she
wasn't the first by any stretch of the imagination and tried not
to be the second.
The conversation never faltered or lulled as they ate
dessert and ordered coffee as well. It wasn't until she asked
David the time that she realized they had sat talking in
Pasquali's for a little over two hours.
"I didn't realize it was that late! I need to go," she said.
She dug through her purse for her wallet to pay her half of
the bill.
David reached across the table and laid a light hand across
hers, effectively halting her rummaging. "Hey, there's no fire.
It's not even nine yet, and you said the trip was short. Finish
your coffee, and I'll flag the waiter down for the bill. Fifteen
more minutes won't make that much of a difference, will it?"

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Those eyes regarded her with a calm amusement. Ann

rested her hands on the purse strap and gave him a rueful
smile. "No, I suppose not." She pointed a finger at him. "But
this is it. No more coffee. No glass of wine. Just the bill, and
I'm out of here. Deal?"
He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Deal. But I'll be
honest. I'm tempted to work on the charm and get you to
stay a little longer. I haven't enjoyed dinner like this in a long
time."
"You wouldn't have to work that hard," she said under her
breath, and shook her head when he raised his eyebrows in
inquiry.
Ann liked the fact he didn't pressure her to let him pick up
her share of the tab, only asking if she enjoyed the restaurant
and his recommendation of the lasagna. Considering it was
now dark outside, she welcomed his offer to escort her to her
car.
Despite her earlier rush to leave, they strolled to her
vehicle. The street was quiet, several of the parking spots
now empty. Her car sat alone in front of a red brick building
with a restored Victorian façade. She pulled her keys from her
purse and turned to David who hovered at her side.
The night was clear, and ornate street lamps cast soft
pools of light on the pavestones and curbs. It silvered her
escort's hair, highlighting the fine lines at his eyes and across
his forehead. For just a moment she imagined she caught a
glimpse of what he might look like in another fifteen years.
She liked what she saw.

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He regarded her in silence, pulling his hand out of his front

jeans pocket when she held out hers to say good-bye. His
fingers were warm as he wrapped them around hers in a
gentle grip, sending a pleasant tingle riding up her arm and
across her shoulder blades.
"Thank you, David, for one of the best birthdays I've
celebrated in a long time. I'm glad I stopped off at O'Malley's
to hear your beautiful music, and dinner was wonderful."
Ann's heart sped up when he smiled and bent over her
hand in a courtly gesture. The feathery brush of his mustache
and beard across her skin intensified the earlier tingle. Her
fingers twitched in his hold. His lips grazed gently across her
knuckles before he straightened and released her hand. His
eyes glittered in the splinters of shadow and lamplight shifting
over them.
"The pleasure was entirely mine, Ann. Even though I know
it'll earn me a frown, and lose me a few brownie points, I'll
tell you again. I think you're beautiful. Funny and sharp as
hell. Does your ex realize what a good thing he had?"
Ann wondered if her smile carried a hint of regret. She
doubted Peter had ever thought of her in such glowing terms
as this lovely man, even during the first years of their
marriage. But such thoughts were best left unspoken. She
gave David what she hoped was a light, witty reply.
"Oh, I think it fair to say that I can preen some feathers
for a while. Escorted around by a sweet, young thing at least
ten years my junior and blessed with more than his fair share
of looks and charisma."

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He laughed, and she suppressed the urge to reach out and

curve her palm against his jaw, feel the soft bristles of his
beard against her skin. Her knuckles still tingled where he
had kissed her. The laughter faded, and he glanced to the
side at the building where her car was parked in front.
"Do you believe that sometimes coincidence is fate?"
That took her aback, and she paused before answering.
"Not really. Coincidence is usually just that, coincidence.
Although I like the romantic idea of fate. Why?"
He gestured to the building's front door. "You're parked in
front of my home. I rent the third floor."
Ann's gaze followed his to the granite steps that led to the
ornate front door with its stained glass and welcoming glow of
an entry light. "You live here?"
He nodded, and his eyes gleamed in the darkness, taking
on an intensity that sent a shiver up her spine. Her instincts
warned her more of an emotional danger than a physical one,
but the sudden urge to bolt was just as strong.
"If I asked you up for coffee and a little flamenco, would
you say no?"
The question was almost identical to when he'd asked her
to dinner.
"I'd say no." Oh but how she wanted to say yes. "I don't
really know you, David. You seem very nice, someone any
woman would be glad to spend time with. But you can't be
too careful these days. I'm not being paranoid. In fact, this
has been pretty risky business, going to dinner with a virtual
stranger."

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His smile was disappointed but understanding. "Hey, no

need to explain." He shrugged. "I just thought I'd ask. Hoped
I could extend the evening a little longer. The worst you could
do was shoot me down in flames."
She knew her smile was as disappointed as his. "No need.
I think a polite no will suffice." The alarm on her car yelped
once, and she opened the door, slinging her purse and
shopping bag into the passenger's seat. "Thanks again. It was
fun, and I'm glad I got to meet you. Someone out there is
really going to luck out when they nab you on a permanent
basis."
David shrugged. "Thanks. Maybe I'll get lucky and meet
another Ann."
She laughed. "Bite your tongue. You're seeing me on a
good day." She slid into the driver's seat, and he held the
door open so she could get settled and start the car.
"I'll wait until you pull away."
"That isn't necessary. I'll be fine. Very gallant of you,
though."
He smiled wryly. "Good manners. Be careful on your way
home. And if you're ever in this neighborhood again, stop by
O'Malley's. If I'm not there, leave a hello. I'd like to see you
again, even if it's just for a few minutes and a glass of
Lagrima. Okay?"
Her cheeks warmed at his attention. She'd more than like
to seem him again. What woman in her right mind wouldn't?
Of course it was all the more reason to find some other
weekend shopping district to browse on those very rare

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occasions she did such a thing. Temptation lay too close here.
She waved him away. "Go in, David. I'll be okay."
He gave in, closing her door gently, and walked up the
steps to his building's door. She returned his wave, sighing
with a mixture of pleasure and regret as he slipped inside and
out of view.
A gorgeous man by anyone's standard, and for reasons
she had yet to make sense of, he had been attracted to her.
The dinner had been fun, his attentions immensely flattering,
especially during a time when her self-confidence wavered.
For a short time, David Abrams had made her feel desirable,
sexually stimulating. She might have been a wife for many
years, but she wasn't blind. The look in his eyes when it
traveled over her face and body had been warm and
admiring.
The car engine idled gently as she sat in the seat, hands
draped loosely over the steering wheel. She looked back at
the Victorian and saw lights in two of the third floor windows.
She wondered if David had already made it up there and was
settling down to listen to some music or even preparing to go
out again. She rested her forehead against the steering
wheel.
It was so tempting to give in, turn the car off and ring his
floor, saying she'd changed her mind and would really like
that coffee he offered. No one was at home. She wouldn't be
missed. All three kids were gone for the weekend, and a dark
empty house wasn't all that appealing at the moment. Ann
had never been a risk-taker, and what she contemplated was
risky.
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A long, slow breath later, and she turned the key in the
ignition. The engine died. She hopped out of the car before
losing her courage and marched up the steps to the door. She
reached to press the button on the intercom for the third
floor. Before she could touch it, the door opened, and David
stood in the entrance, staring at her with a hopeful smile.
"I was crossing my fingers you'd change your mind.
Besides, I wanted to make sure you got on your way okay
before I went upstairs."
She frowned at him. "I'll come up as long as we
understand I can leave at any time for any reason."
His smile faded. "I'm not a jailer, Ann. I value your trust. If
you want, I'll even leave the door open, or I can make the
coffee and we can drink it out here on the steps. I'll bring the
cups and my guitar. You call the shots. I'm fine with whatever
you're comfortable with. Just stay a little longer."
She nodded, feeling a lightheaded euphoria take over for a
moment. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she mentally
chanted. But she was. And it felt good.
"We can go inside. It's been way too many years for me to
give up the comfort of a couch for a bunch of cold stone
steps. Do you have decaf and Andre Segovia?"
His grin returned full-force, and she couldn't help but grin
back. "Yep. I can even make yours a cappuccino if you want.
And what self-respecting Spanish guitarist doesn't own a
complete collection of the Master's work?"
Ann followed him up the two short flights of stairs, feeling
butterflies of anticipation flutter in her stomach. He noted her
tension as they stood on the landing, waiting while he
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unlocked his front door. "You don't have to come in if you've

changed your mind. I'll take you back downstairs if you want.
No hard feelings."
Her smile was tentative, even as she refused his offer.
"Don't be silly. I said I wanted to come up. I still do. So don't
renege on your invitation now."
Oh, she did like his smile. "Wouldn't dream of it. Just
remember, any time you're ready to leave, say so."
The third floor apartment was spacious, an open floor plan
with a kitchen that adjoined to a living area and dining room.
A back wall of windows revealed a nice view of the city lights.
Three guitars sat in a far corner, along with a fair amount of
recording equipment and electronics, CDs and a large TV. A
pile of Barbies cluttered the window seat near the dining
table. His daughter's toys.
David gestured to a dove-gray couch littered with throws
and pillows. "Have a seat. I'll start the coffee. Or, if you want,
take a look at the CDs. Everything is alphabetized, and you'll
find plenty of Segovia to choose from."
She scanned the CD rack and selected two for him to play.
The fragrant scent of coffee filled the air. David returned to
the living room, taking the CDs and popping them into the
player. In moments, the seductive strains of Spanish guitar
floated through the room.
Instead of the couch, Ann chose the easy chair, feeling it a
safer bet than the couch. David didn't remark on her choice,
but his gaze held hints of amusement. They listened to the
music in silence for a moment before she asked him what got
him started with his guitar playing. From there, the
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conversation progressed into a multitude of topics, and she

was aware, on an almost subconscious level, how easy it was
to talk with him, listen to the low, rolling tones of his voice
and laugh at the dry wit that often peppered his statements.
When the coffee finished brewing, she followed him to the
kitchen, instructing him on how she liked it prepared. When
they returned to the living room, Ann sat next to him on the
couch, no longer uneasy at the close proximity.
While he talked, she took the opportunity to secretly
admire him. He was a tall man, somewhere above six feet,
and towered over her. She liked his shoulders. They were
wide and tapered down to a lean waist. He had a slim,
muscular build she found very appealing. And those beautiful
hands were positively mesmerizing to watch in motion.
Handsome, intellectual, charmingly forthright. And
forbidden. Ann knew she was vulnerable. Despite her long
separation from Peter and a divorce they both welcomed, she
felt fragile. A new life. A different one in many ways. She
needed to adjust and didn't want to get caught up in
something that had her coming straight off a rebound.
It's only coffee, Ann, not a marriage proposal. Get a grip.
And before that it was drinks and dinner and good
conversation. Ann grew suspicious of her inner voice.
After the second round of coffee, she rose and placed her
cup in the sink. It had to be past midnight. Time to go home.
While they hadn't indulged in alcohol, she should have
requested the caffeinated coffee. At least she wouldn't be
quite so relaxed by the music and David's seductive company.

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As it was, the hours had slipped away, and Ann admitted to

herself she was sorry to see the evening come to an end.
She almost jumped out of her skin when, upon turning
away from the sink, she ran into David's chest, face first. He
caught her shoulders as she stumbled backward. His grip was
firm but gentle.
"Whoa! Hey, sorry about that. I didn't mean to startle
you."
He stared down at her in concern but didn't remove his
hands. When Ann only blinked at him, his gaze altered, grew
warmer, and the tension between them swelled in the
thickening silence.
"What would you say if I kissed you?"
That whiskey-sweet voice caressed her, sending shivers
racing throughout her body. If she still possessed one logical,
functioning brain cell, she'd shove him out of the way, grab
her purse and run out the door. But the feel of his body heat,
the massaging grip of his fingers on her arms and the
knowledge that she was the one inspiring that thread of need
in his voice wiped out any reason.
Her last bit of caution died a quick death when he lowered
his head, encouraged by her continued silence. "Kiss me and
find out," she whispered against his mouth.
The words were barely spoken before she felt the soft
touch of his lips against hers. It was the faintest caress, a
tickling feel of mustache and caress of warm breath against
her mouth. Its very lightness coaxed a response out of her,
and she tilted her head back to allow him greater access.

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David deepened the kiss. His hands rode higher up her

arms, one sliding into her hair to cup the back of her head
while the other stroked the side of her neck with callused
fingers. He breathed into her partially open mouth, nipping
playfully at her lips before turning more aggressive and
slipping his tongue inside.
Ann groaned at the sensation, her hands rising to rest
gently against his sides, where she could feel the tightening
ripple of muscle beneath his shirt. He didn't just kiss with his
mouth, but with his entire body, curving her into him as one
arm wrapped around her back and pulled her closer. The
intimate feel of his tongue filling her mouth, thrusting slowly
in imitation of the most erotic of dances had her clenching her
thigh muscles. Her hands kneaded his ribs, and her thumbs
dug into his flat abdomen.
The times when Peter had kissed her in such a way
seemed long ago, morphing over the years into the
perfunctory peck on the lips, half distracted and swiftly
finished. Ann had almost forgotten what it was like, that first
physical surrender. It was lovemaking at its most powerful
and beguiling, a pulse of anticipation, expectation and hard
breathing. David made heated love to her in the bright light
of his kitchen with the thrust of his tongue, the massaging
stroke of his long-fingered hands, and the sensuous push of
his hips against hers.
She drowned in the consuming touch, tasting coffee and
the lingering hint of single malt whiskey on his lips. Her
mouth opened wider, welcoming him even as her own tongue
wrapped around his in a frantic battle. He moaned low in his
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throat, the hand cupping the back of her head flexing in

response to her aggression, and his arm dropped lower,
wrapping around her hips to bring her hard up against his,
where his hard cock pressed against her thighs.
He was the first to pull away. His lips were shiny and
swollen. A rosy flush along his cheeks highlighted the fine
bones of his face, and his green eyes were dark.
"Stay," he whispered, the word flowing low and hot across
her mouth.
A river of heat rushed through her blood, swirling between
her legs and gathering into her stomach. It rose to her
breasts, and her nipples hardened beneath the cotton shield
of her bra. Damn! Damn! Damn! Ann was almost stuporous
with lust by that single kiss and he knew it.
"Stay," he repeated and the rhythmic thrust of his hips
against hers grew more insistent.
"I can't," she said and moaned in protest when he planted
a series of kisses along her jawline and back toward her ear.
She shivered when he bit gently on her earlobe.
"Why not?"
She wrapped her fingers into his hair, admiring its silky
texture as it slid against her palm. She tugged his head away
from her. "That should be obvious, David. Call me old
fashioned, but we just met. I'm not a prude, but I've never
done a one-night stand."
The languorous expression altered, sharpening as he
regarded her with an uncanny, piercing stare. "I can't be your
conscience, Ann, but I can be your honesty. Do you want to
stay?"
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Oh, for chrissake! Of course she wanted to stay. She also

wanted to live on a diet of cheesecake and drink goblets of
expensive wine whenever she felt like it, but it didn't mean
she would. And this was far more precarious and enticing
than any decadent food or wine that ever passed beneath her
nose. Her protests were dredged up from an ingrained sense
of what should be the expected reaction to such an invitation,
not from any heartfelt need to refuse an overwhelming
temptation.
David watched her even as his fingers made forays into
her hair and stroked her side.
Ann sighed. "Why can't you be a little older?"
His eyes darkened as his pupils enlarged with a rising
desire. "Why can't you just say yes?" He kissed her again,
and this time there was no cautionary touch or gentle nip,
only the stroke of his tongue as he filled her mouth, claiming
some part of her in triumph. She had surrendered, and they
both knew it.
He broke the kiss again. "Stay," he said for the third time.
And this time her response was just as short. "Yes."
When they came up for air, David laced his fingers through
hers and led Ann to his bedroom. As they walked down the
narrow hall, she caught a brief glimpse of a bathroom and a
bedroom decorated for a young girl. David's room was at the
end of the hall. Dimly lit by two wall sconces, it had a single
window that faced another row of buildings.
The bedroom was orderly, and dominated by a king-size
bed, neatly made in colors of gray and black. A mahogany
dresser and overflowing bookcases stood against the walls. A
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familiar sight caught her eye, and she smiled. Two stacks of
tests lay on the dresser's surface with a red pen resting on
top. How many times had she done just this thing, brought
home student work to grade or made lesson plans for
upcoming classes?
There was something comforting about that commonality
between them, though it did little to lessen her growing
nervousness. David must have sensed her trepidation as he
raised her hand to his mouth, kissing her open palm gently.
His eyes were warm and reassuring, even as they remained
dark with desire.
"You can call a halt to this any time. I understand and
respect the words 'stop' and 'no.' No hard feelings if you
change your mind. I'll walk you to your car and make sure
you get on the road safe and sound." He guided her hand
across his jaw, letting the soft bristles of his beard rub
against her skin. The feel of it sent tingles up her arm. His
voice deepened, turned fervent. "But, God, I hope you don't
change your mind."
She caressed his cheek. "I can't promise I won't have a
change of heart in ten minutes, but for now, I'm staying."
He nestled his face into her palm, and his eyes drifted shut
for a moment. "That's good enough for me. I'm looking
forward to convincing you to hang around for a while."
The fluttering feeling intensified in her stomach as he led
her to the bed. He did something that surprised her. Instead
of taking her into his arms again and pulling them both down
onto the mattress as she half expected, he sat on its edge,
facing her as she stood. Ann automatically placed her hands
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on his shoulders, feeling the smooth shift of muscle beneath

his shirt.
David tilted his chin and stared up at her with a half smile.
"Changed your mind yet?" He ran his hands over her hips and
down her legs, massaging her thighs through her denim skirt.
She laughed softly. "It hasn't been ten minutes. I'll let you
know then."
His eyebrows wiggled in a suggestive manner. "Best start
convincing you now," he said and leaned forward to press his
face into the space between her breasts. His hands slid over
her hips again and slipped across the curve of her buttocks.
She swayed within the circle of his arms and twined her
fingers through his silky hair. Wrong or right, there was no
denying the tingling shocks of sensation traveling through all
of her nerve endings at his touch. Just this simple embrace,
with the caress of his hands on her bottom and the warm feel
of his breath seeping through her clothing, was enough to
make her flush and weak in the knees. Ten minutes or ten
hours, the question of her leaving any time soon was now
moot. She would take this man as her lover for one night and
deal with the repercussions of her actions in morning's
unforgiving light. Until then, only they and this bedroom
existed.
Her stomach muscles tightened as David began to work
her blouse loose from the waistband of her skirt. Ann placed a
staying hand on his as it slid under the material.
"Just so you know," she warned, "I have the souvenirs
from three pregnancies. That means stretch marks and a

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baby pooch. So if you're expecting a flat belly and smooth

skin, you're in for a disappointment."
He fiddled with the bottom three buttons of her blouse
before slowly slipping them from the buttonholes. "I have a
fondness for baby pooches and character lines."
She chuckled and rubbed her thumbs in a circular pattern
against his temples. His eyes drifted shut, mouth slackening
with pleasure. "Crows feet are character lines, David. Stretch
marks are more like road maps." She sighed her pleasure
when his fingers brushed against her bare skin.
"Ann, if it makes you feel any better, I have an
appendectomy scar and love handles. Would those make you
run out the door once you see me with my shirt off?" He
continued unbuttoning the blouse, reaching the bottom line of
her bra.
Ann eyed him and raised a dubious eyebrow. She wouldn't
question the appendectomy scar, but there were some
serious doubts about the love handles. She had touched his
waist when they kissed in the kitchen and there had been no
roll or soft bulge of flesh to break the hard V-line of his torso.
"Do you have chest hair?"
His lips twitched. "Yes."
"Well, that makes up for the love handles," she teased.
He released the last of the buttons and opened the blouse.
She blushed, first with shyness, then with delight as his voice
dropped an octave.
"You have beautiful breasts. Whatever your imaginary
sins, these"—he cupped her gently, causing her to tighten her
hold in his hair—"negate all of them."
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He continued to caress her, stroking her nipples through

her bra until they ached for a more intimate touch. She
moaned softly, then gasped when he kissed the upper curve
of one breast. He ran his tongue in a damp line along her
skin.
"Christ, you taste good!" He nipped and sucked along the
sensitive expanse of her chest, stopping to nuzzle her
cleavage. Ann's legs wouldn't support her, and he tightened
his hold across her hips when she nearly crumpled to the
floor. Her concerns for what he might think once he removed
her clothing evaporated. The intensity with which David
stroked her convinced Ann he was enthralled with touching
her.
The tension in the room escalated with their breathing.
She shrugged the blouse off her shoulders and kicked it to the
side. David made short work of her skirt, pulling it down her
hips until she was left wearing only her bra, underwear, and
sandals.
His eyes were shadowed in the room's dim light, and Ann
suppressed the urge to wrap her arms around her waist, once
again suffering from a painful shyness. For more than twenty
years, only her husband and her gynecologist had seen her in
anything this scanty, and the second didn't count.
Her hands fluttered to her stomach. David grasped them
before she could use them as a shield. He leered at her. "I
have good taste. You're even more beautiful with your clothes
off than I imagined."
She stared at him, wide-eyed, and laughed. "I think
maybe you're the reincarnation of the serpent in Eden. You
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have a sly tongue." She blushed at the unintended innuendo

in her statement. David's smile stretched to a grin.
"Yes, I do," he whispered in between placing feathery
kisses in the valley of her cleavage and over the top of her
bra. "How about a demonstration of my talents?"
He pulled her head down to kiss her again and fell slowly
back onto the bed, taking her with him. She stretched out
atop his body, kissed him ardently and massaged his
shoulders. His cock swelled against his jeans, and she
reached down to rub the hard ridge pressing against her
damp thighs. Her panties were wet, her pussy throbbing with
anticipation of feeling that cock sliding inside her. There was a
tussle on the comforter as they stripped each other of their
remaining clothing.
Two pairs of shoes sailed across the room and landed in
the doorway. Clothing lay scattered across the bed or in small
heaps on the floor. When they were both nude, Ann reclined
on her side and took a good look at her would-be lover
stretched out on the bed in all of his naked glory. Unlike her,
David wasn't in the least self-conscious about being laid bare.
Then again, what was there for him to be shy about?
He was slim and muscled, with smooth, golden skin. As
she suspected, there wasn't a love handle in sight. Her gaze
passed over the soft, auburn hair covering his chest and
followed the thin, seductive line that bisected his flat belly.
The hair darkened at his groin.
He was erect, the swollen head of his cock crowned with a
glistening drop of semen. Ann dragged her gaze from the
mesmerizing view to his face. His eyes were nearly black
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when he met her stare. He ran a caressing hand down her

bare arm.
"Still doubting how much I want you?"
She shook her head and slid one hand through the soft
patch of chest hair. Her fingertips danced across his left
nipple, then his right. David closed his eyes and groaned. His
hips rose in reaction to her touch. Ann's breath shortened,
and her insides pulsed with excitement. She brought this
response out in him—Ann MacLeod who'd almost forgotten
what it was like to roll in bed with a warm and giving lover.
He let her explore his hard body for a few minutes before
capturing her hand as it slid across the white line of his
appendectomy scar and hovered at the coarse hair
surrounding his erection.
"Not yet," he muttered and flipped her neatly onto her
back, stretching her arms above her head so that it left her
completely exposed to his avid gaze.
Lamplight played across his body, burnishing his skin as he
rose above her. She blushed beneath his stare. With her arms
above her head and her clothing on the floor, she could hide
nothing from him. Everything was revealed; childbirth and
time had left indelible marks.
Ann waited, watching him in silence as he perused her
body with quiet intensity. Her worries faded away at the feel
of his hands gliding over her bare shoulders and down her
arms. They drifted slowly over her ribcage. Her nipples
stiffened, and she sighed, neck arching with pleasure when he
finally curved his palms over her breasts.

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The only sounds in the bedroom were the rustle of sheets

and the faint, steady moans that escaped her half-opened
mouth. David pressed her into the mattress with his weight,
bending to suckle one breast, then the other. His beard
tickled her skin, heightening the sensations that radiated out
from her chest and sizzled down her legs.
"You taste as good as you look," he breathed against the
curve of her left breast. She buried her fingers in his hair,
pressing his face harder to her in encouragement. He laughed
against her skin, a satisfied sound that let her know he was
well aware of the fever pitch of desire he incited within her.
They rolled toward the pillows, clasped together in a tangle
of arms and legs. Their skin grew slick with sweat as the
foreplay intensified between them. Ann gripped his buttocks
with her fingers as he sucked on her tongue and wedged a
thigh between her legs.
He overwhelmed her senses, flooding her nostrils with the
scent of cloves, musk and aroused male. She tasted salt as
she licked his neck and sucked his small nipples. He moaned
beneath her caresses and rocked hard against her pelvis.
There was no resurrecting shyness when he kissed his way
down her torso and ran his tongue along the silvery lines that
marked her stomach. Ann jumped when he nipped the inside
of her thigh.
David rose above her. His features were sharp with lust,
his mouth swollen from the force of their kissing. "I want to
go down on you, Ann. I want more than just a taste. Will you
let me?"

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Her throat was parched. When she spoke, it came out in a

croak. "Oh, God, yes!" Cunnilingus was a gift from heaven,
and she would bet her soul that David could send her
rocketing through the ceiling with that very talented mouth.
He didn't disappoint. Sliding her legs over his wide
shoulders, he bent and buried his face in her damp curls. Ann
whimpered at the tingling nuzzle of his beard, the heat of his
breath when he parted her labia, exposing her clitoris. She
groaned low and dug her heels into his back when a hot
tongue slid across her clit. He played her like a violin, licking
and sucking every inch of ultra sensitive skin, thrusting inside
her cunt with his tongue. Ann's hips rose and fell, her hands
clawing the sheets as David gripped her thighs and tortured
her with his mouth. The orgasm, when it hit, spiraled up from
her toes and slammed into her nerve endings.
Her knees came together, snapping against David's head.
Ann barely heard his grunt of surprise over the blood roaring
in her ears. He didn't stop. She chanted nonsensical words of
encouragement mixed with long moans, and abandoned the
sheets to slide her fingers into his soft hair..
She descended from the erotic high, breathing hard. Her
thighs shook in reaction to the prolonged orgasm. David
suddenly loomed over her, his face flushed, lips and beard
damp and shining. He said nothing, only lowered his head to
part her lips and plunge his tongue deep into her mouth.
She tasted herself in his kiss, felt the slick heat between
her legs dampen the sheets beneath her. David broke the kiss
and cupped her head in his hands. His voice was rough, his
speech broken by slow pants.
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"No flowery words ... Ann. I want ... in. I want to fuck you
until I can't see straight. Damn! You've got me so worked up,
I'm about to come all over you. Say yes."
His chest heaved against hers and his shoulders were
slippery with sweat beneath her hands. Definitely not flowery,
but a poetry her body understood. He was as aroused as she
was, even more so since she had found the relief of a climax.
"Yes," she said, repeating it several times over. "Yes. Yes.
Yes."
He sucked her words into his mouth and spread her thighs
wide with eager hands. She bent her knees back toward her
chest to give him greater access, and he curled his hands
around her hips, preparing to slide inside her.
"Wait!"
David's eyes nearly bugged from his head. "What?"
Her legs snapped together, trapping his thumbs. "We need
protection."
Ann feared she'd ruined that lovely, frenzied moment of
lovemaking. David's shoulders sagged, and it took her a
moment to realize it was relief, not disappointment or anger
that caused the reaction. He grinned at her before wiping a
drop of sweat from his jaw.
"Oh shit, you had me going for a minute. I thought for
sure you'd changed your mind. You were about to see a
grown man cry."
She grinned back, nearly euphoric with relief. An awkward
moment, yes, but not completely unsalvageable, certainly not
judging by his erection which showed no signs of diminishing.
"I'm sorry, David. I just think it's best to be safe."
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He waved a hand at her in an unconcerned gesture and

rose from the bed. "Don't worry about it. Just give me a
second to hunt down a condom. It's not like I keep them in a
candy jar by the bed."
Now that would be a topic of conversation, to be sure. Had
she seen anything like that when they first entered the
bedroom, they wouldn't have made it this far. She didn't like
the player type. The colorful cursing coming from the
bathroom made her smile.
When he padded back into the bedroom, he wore a
triumphant smile and held up a small blue packet like a
trophy. "Found one. Changed your mind yet?"
Ann stretched out her hand. "Not on your life. Here, let me
put it on."
He didn't protest, but stood before her, watching with
heavy eyes as she stroked his shaft and the head of his cock
with loving fingers. David moaned and played with her hair.
Ann wanted more, wanted to taste him. He smelled of soap
and the musk of arousal. The condom fell to the floor,
forgotten.
Anne licked her lips at the sight of his cock so close to her
face, the tip glistened with semen. She bent to swipe her
tongue over the small opening. He tasted good on her
tongue, faintly salty and smooth in her mouth. His hands
clenched in her hair, pushing her head gently in unconscious
encouragement for her to take him deeper.
She did, opening her mouth wider to suck him farther in,
and slid her tongue down the underside of his shaft, tickling
the sensitive vein running its length. One slid from his
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buttocks, riding the curve of his thigh until he parted his legs
so she could cup his balls. They were cool in her hand, heavy.
The slow thrust of his hips and wordless moans of
encouragement aroused her as much as his touch. She was
happy to suck him until he climaxed, eager to swallow more
than the tantalizing trickle of come washing over her tongue
and the roof of her mouth.
Ann moaned a protest when David pulled away. She
tightened her hand on his ass, reluctant to let his cock slide
out of her mouth. David's features were flushed, and his
chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.
"You have a hot mouth, sweet Ann. I could fuck it until you
sucked me dry, but I want inside that beautiful pussy first.
You've given me a fine taste of you. I want more."
The wetness gathered between her legs from his tongue
and her climax grew, sliding down her thighs. His words made
her entire body throb. She retrieved the blue packet from the
floor and gave him a teasing smile. "You taste good."
"Better than wine and chocolate?" His reciprocal teasing
made the heat in her blood hotter, and her fingers fumbled in
her haste to tear open the packet.
Ann almost cheered when she pulled out the small circle of
latex. "Better than anything."
The hushed expectancy in the room swelled once more as
she rolled the condom onto his stiff cock. David followed her
tug on his arm until they both lay on the bed.
For a few moments they kissed. She reveled in the taste
and feel of his mouth and sucked on his lower lip while
running her tongue along the edge of his bottom teeth. He
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startled her when he rolled to his back and took her with him.
She sat astride his hips with the head of his penis nudging her
entrance.
He massaged her hips with hard fingers. "Ride me," he
ordered in that seductive, smoky voice.
Ann rose just enough to position him more firmly against
her. David's lips parted and his eyelids dropped to half mast
as she settled her weight onto him and slid down on his cock
inch by slow inch. She was so wet from her earlier climax that
he slid into her easily. Shivers raced along her arms at the
stretching feel of his penetration. He groaned low in his
throat, opening his eyes to focus on her face.
"God, that feels good. Keep going."
Ann took him deeper until he was fully seated within her.
She gasped at the sensation. David groaned and arched his
back as her vaginal muscles contracted around him.
Instead of raising and lowering her hips, she stayed seated
hard on his hips and initiated a slow, rocking motion that
soon had him moaning in staccato bursts. She increased her
rhythm, and leaned forward to rub her nose in his soft chest
hair and suckle his nipples.
Her actions soon sent him into a frenzy. His body heaved
against hers in a vain attempt to penetrate deeper, drive
harder into her. Sweat made his shoulders slippery beneath
her palms. David stared into her eyes with a gaze that
burned. Ann clenched her thighs to hold her seat as his hips
bucked beneath her.
"Jesus, Ann!" He gasped.

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The blood ran high in his cheeks, and he arched off the
bed, eyes closed in a self-absorbed ecstasy as he strove to
climax. Ann clenched her muscles, gripping his cock as he
pulsed inside her. Harsh groans poured from David's half
open mouth, and his fingers held her hips in a bruising grip.
She knew it was a wise decision to insist upon the condom,
but ached to have him unfettered, to feel the smooth skin of
his shaft sliding into her and the wet heat of his come filling
her.
Like her, he struggled to find breath after his exertions. He
pulled her down to rest fully against him and wrapped his
arms around her. "I think you killed me," he whispered in her
ear.
Her laughter fluttered strands of his hair. She kissed his
chin. "I'd say it's mutual. I thought I was going to pass out
from what you did to me with your tongue. Remember, you're
the young whippersnapper. I'm a fragile old lady."
He swatted her playfully on the bottom, and she yelped in
surprise. "Fragile old lady, my ass." His hands leisurely
stroked the spot he just spanked. "I want more of you, could
fuck you for hours if I had the energy, but I'm not eighteen
anymore. Longer recovery period, you know." He gave her a
wry grin.
She smiled in returned, then hastened to cover a yawn.
"Sorry. It's way past my bedtime, and I'm not used to this
kind of exercise, especially at this time of night."
David anchored her to him and rolled them both to their
sides. His features grew solemn, more intense. "Can you stay
longer?"
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Ann found it harder and harder to stifle the yawns. "Just a

few more minutes," she murmured sleepily and ran her hand
down his arm and across his back. In moments she was
asleep against him, waking only once when he slipped out of
her and left the bed for a bathroom break. She was vaguely
aware when he crawled into bed and spooned against her.
It wasn't until a pleasant heat lapped in waves over her
breasts and belly that she fully awakened. The room was
dark, and David lay curled tightly around her, generating a
sleepy warmth that seeped into her skin and bones. She
stretched against him. His hands were busy beneath the
covers, stroking her skin and squeezing her breasts while he
nuzzled his face into the back of her neck.
The sweet ache of desire pooled in her belly and pussy
once more, and she gave only a token protest when David
turned her onto her stomach and coaxed her to her hands
and knees. The bedroom's encompassing darkness served to
strengthen her other senses, She was acutely aware of his
scent—musk and sleep, the feel of his hard thighs against
hers as he positioned himself behind her, the press of his
fingers as he spread her buttocks and ran a light finger from
her anus down to her cunt, slipping into her wet heat. At
some point before awakening her, he'd put on another
condom. Nothing remained to interrupt the steady rise of her
hunger.
"Ann?"
"Hurry," she whispered. She lowered her head to the pillow
and groaned when he slid into her in one quick motion. Her
back arched as she took him deep, savoring the stretching
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feel of his shaft as he fucked her slowly. The position allowed

him a harder penetration, and he echoed her moans. They
moved together in a primitive dance until her nails scraped
across the pillowcase, and he thrust into her hard enough to
scoot her closer to the headboard.
His thighs rubbed against the back of hers, the teasing
nestle of his balls against the back of her cunt a slow fire that
built until she squirmed and pleaded for him to fuck her
harder, faster. He grasped her hair like a mane and rode her
hard, scraping his teeth on the back of the neck when he
came. She had only a moment to register the slight sting of
his bite when he pulled out of her and flipped her onto her
back. With her legs draped over his shoulders and his face
buried between her thighs, it wasn't long before Ann followed
him, crying "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus" in sacrilegious prayer. Again
they fell asleep, too exhausted for anything more than a
leisurely kiss and a tight embrace.
When she awoke a third time, weak morning light was
bleeding through the window blinds. David lay against her,
snoring softly in her ear. Ann crawled across the mattress,
trying not to disturb him. Muscles unused to such vigorous
exercise screamed in protest as she limped to the bathroom.
She made use of his shower and basic toiletries. He was still
asleep when she returned the bedroom, wrapped in one of his
towels.
Her clothes lay in a small heap on his side of the bed. Ann
dressed quietly and glanced at the clock on one of the
bedside tables. A little past six. She should have left before

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dawn, but the previous night's excesses had left her drained,
sated, and her sleep had been deep.
Once dressed, she didn't know what to do. It would seem
both rude and insensitive to leave without a word. Granted,
this was nothing more than a one-night stand—the thought
made her a little queasy—but she still wanted something
more than sneaking out the door. A good-bye said. Maybe an
embrace if it wasn't too awkward. When she turned again to
admire him stretched out on the bed, David was awake,
watching her.
"Are you sure I can't convince you to spend the day with
me? Stay another night?"
She smiled. "Tempting, but no. I have to get home."
He sighed and rolled out of bed. She almost whistled her
appreciation at the sight of his firm buttocks when he bent
and slid his jeans on, not bothering with his boxers. Even half
asleep, with his eyes puffy and long hair tangled, he was still
one of the handsomest men she'd ever seen.
"Do you want coffee?"
Ann shook her head, refusing the offer. "No. I just need to
go."
David rubbed his jaw, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Okay. Let me get my shirt and I'll walk you to your car."
"That's not necessary. Just walk me to the door."
He frowned but acquiesced to her wishes. She savored the
feel of his hand resting on the small of her back as he
escorted her through the apartment. Before she could phrase
her good-bye, he slid a hand around her waist and pulled her
against him.
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"Any regrets?"
"Honestly?"
"Honestly."
"No. None. I find some of it hard to believe, but I don't
regret any of it." She caressed the side of his face, tracing her
fingers through his short beard. "Thank you, David. I won't
forget this or you. Some lucky woman will win the proverbial
lottery when she lands you."
He captured her hand and kissed it. Disappointment dulled
his green eyes. "You won't let me call or e-mail, will you?"
Oh, the temptation. Ann wanted more of them than just
the one night, but now wasn't the right time. "No, I need
time. My life has taken a completely different turn. I want to
adjust to it, get used to it—by myself."
David tucked his hands in his front pockets and scuffed his
foot against the floor. "All that charm you say I have isn't
doing me much good when I have bad timing." He ran a
finger down her arm. "Will you at least tell me your last name
before you go?"
She leaned into him. "MacLeod," she said against his lips.
"Ann MacLeod."
David seized his opportunity and kissed her deeply,
kneading her back with strong hands. They were both flushed
when they broke apart.
He leaned his forehead against hers. "I'm usually at
O'Malley's on Wednesdays and Saturdays." His mouth turned
up in a faint smile. "In case you're in town for another
shopping trip."

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Tears clogged her throat. She didn't trust herself to do

more than nod before slipping out into the hallway. She took
the stairs down to the ground level and got into her car. She
felt the weight of David's gaze from the window, even after
she pulled away from the curb.
The drive home was uneventful, the house still empty
when she arrived. Over the next few days, she and the kids
celebrated her birthday as planned, they none the wiser of
the extraordinary night she'd shared with an even more
extraordinary man. She hugged her pillow when she slept and
dreamed of David curled around her beneath clove-scented
sheets.
It was a blessing that the month following that blissful
evening kept her busy. The days leading up to the end of
school term were so frantic she had little time to fantasize
about the events of her birthday. Only during the last week,
when the students were gone and her classroom was prepped
for closing did Ann find herself with unoccupied time.
She tried filling the moments with research, preparing for
another lecture series in the coming summer. But proposals
and research only occupied her waking hours. The nights
were the hardest. She'd slept alone for almost two years,
even before she and Peter separated. The bed had never
before seemed so empty.
During the last day of in-service, before summer break,
Ann received a packet of information from the seminar
coordinator. She flipped through the directory listing the
various lectures and panels scheduled over the three-day

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period. A yellow sticky note fell suddenly from the pages and
landed on her foot.
Ann retrieved it, curious.
I'm a coordinator this year, and a lecturer. See page 42.
She stuck the note to the directory and flipped to page
forty-two. The section focused on British history. She
recognized several lecturers, academics who had attended
and presented at the seminar every year. Her gaze caught on
one entry near the bottom, and her heartbeat rocketed into
light speed.
The Cross and The Claymore. A brief look at the role of
warrior monks in ancient Britain. Presented by David Abrams.
Another sticky note was wedged between the pages.
I dream about you.
He'd found her. Ann's trembling fingers skated gently over
the directory. She missed him. God, did she miss him.
Temptation was too great, and she fell before its lure. Maybe
once more. They didn't have to do more than go for coffee or
a walk in the nearby park. Perfectly innocent. Just once more.
As the days passed, she came up with numerous excuses
to be out of the house on Saturday. Whether luck or fate,
things fell more neatly into place than she expected. All three
kids would be out of the house for the weekend, busy with
their own lives. Once again, she had several hours to do as
she willed with no questions asked. And this time her
excitement ran high.
Ann wasted no time at the stores looking for books or
knickknacks. Instead, she made a beeline directly for

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O'Malley's. She'd try there first, and if David wasn't at the

pub, she'd hold on to her courage and visit his apartment.
The pub was as dim as she remembered but far more
crowded than when she last visited. It would be sheer luck to
find him here. Her nerves were strung tight, and she made
her way to the bar to order a glass of wine. The man tending
the bar was young—college age—and Mike was nowhere in
sight. The bartender offered a polite smile and took her drink
order.
Ann gazed around the pub. The stage was crowded with
equipment but no people, and she grew more and more
doubtful she'd find David in this crush. Besides, the music
streaming from the speakers was far less enticing than the
flamenco that first drew her into O'Malley's. She'd drink the
wine quickly and leave for his apartment. Ann prayed he was
at home and refused to contemplate the crushing
disappointment that awaited her if he was at neither location.
The bartender returned with her wine and a message. "The
wine is covered. Enjoy."
Ann stared at the glass. Her order had been for a
Sauvignon Blanc. The bartender delivered a glass of Lagrima.
A warm excitement made her shiver in anticipation, and she
stared around her, hoping to catch sight of a tall, handsome
man with long auburn hair and a winning smile. She didn't
even jump when graceful hands came to rest on the bar's
surface on either side of her. A blanket of heat covered her
back, and she caught the enticing scent of cloves.
"Hello, Bathsheba."
[Back to Table of Contents]
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by Grace Draven

Grace Draven

Grace Draven is a Louisiana native, living in Texas, and is

a financial analyst by trade. She is the member of a large on-
line network of writers, as well as a member of a site that
archives fiction works. In the spare moments between
working a full-time job and caring for three small children she
writes romantic fiction. Grace has lived in Spain,
honeymooned in Scotland, hiked through the Teton
Mountains, ridden in competition rodeo and is the great,
great-granddaughter of a Nicaraguan president. She is an
avid fan of medieval history, Renaissance faires, Russian
culture and the culinary arts.
If you would like to contact Ms. Draven, please e-mail her
at grace@gracedraven.com.
****

Don't miss The King Of Hel, by Grace Draven,

available at AmberHeat.com!

Castil il Veras, a dowerless scribe born of lesser boyars,

attends the wedding of her best friend to the notorious cursed
king of Helenrisia. It is at the prenuptial celebrations that she
becomes bewitched by the mysterious magus king, even as
she recognizes that he is forbidden to her.
Doranis of Helenrisia travels south to Caskadan, bound by
duty to secure trade agreements by marrying a woman who
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by Grace Draven

loathes the sight of him. Marked by the ancient magic of the

Waste, he is surprised to discover one who finds him
fascinating instead of repellant. But Castil is beyond his reach,
cut off from him by birth, circumstance and distance.
But Fate would have it otherwise, and a beseeching letter
from a dying queen will bring them together again in a land
rife with an ageless power.
****

Don't miss High Risk, by Rick R. Reed,

available at AmberQuill.com!

Her Secret Life...

Beth Walsh seems like such a demure housewife. Taking
care of her attorney husband and doing volunteer work, the
young woman is someone you'd meet at a church social. But
Beth has a secret life. While her husband works, Beth slides
into what she calls her "slut clothes" and goes on the prowl.
She becomes a completely different woman, wanton and
uninhibited, with dozens of handsome strangers. Until she
meets the one blindingly gorgeous stranger who will make her
more than sorry for her secrets and lies...
Abbott Lowery is every woman's dream: handsome,
muscular, with intense blue eyes that contrast with his thick
black hair. Women want him. Men want him. But Abbott is
deeply damaged, and inside lurks a monster just waiting to
be released. When Beth Walsh pursues him, it pushes a

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by Grace Draven

deeply buried rage to the fore and he becomes determined to

punish her.
Beth meeting Abbott lights the fuse on a bomb. Its
explosion leads to a tale of terror and desperation so intense
it will sear everyone who knows them. High Risk is a story of
secrets, tainted histories, murder, kidnapping, and an ending
so brutal and shocking readers will be left breathless.
****

Don't miss Surrender's Edge, by Pepper Espinoza,

available at Amber-Allure.com!

Geoffrey Kirk has been in love with his best friend, Nash,
since almost the moment they met. Convinced that Nash
would never return his feelings, he forced himself to move on,
and fell for his assistant, Sunny. Despite his strong feelings,
he never acted on them, and when he discovered Sunny and
Nash together, he thought he lost his chance for happiness
forever.
Until Sunny and Nash make it clear that he hasn't lost
anything ... and he still has a great deal to gain...
[Back to Table of Contents]

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by Grace Draven

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AMBER ALLURE

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 Courting Bathsheba
by Grace Draven

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