Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Like the photograph. Two lovers sharing something intimate, something more than just an ice-cream treat. Brianne was unknowingly reenacting the erotic photo. Only, she wasn’t an anonymous face. She wasn’t just his fantasy. She was his. Every night for the long, hot summer. He’d already tasted her, knew how her silken mouth and soft lips responded to his.
His fists clenched at his sides as he restrained from acting on his desire. Not now, not yet. He bit hard into his own chocolate-chip scoop and sugar cone, but the sweet dessert didn’t provide the kind of satisfaction he had in mind.
“Can I ask you something?”
Brianne’s voice was a welcome intrusion. “Sure.”
“Well, it’s more of a professional question and it’s kind of silly, but I was wondering how you know whether you’re being followed.” Her cheeks turned pink, and she stared at her cone. “See, I told you it was silly.”
She was more uneasy than embarrassed, and Jake knew she’d been serious. Seconds ago, he’d thought nothing could distract him from thoughts of making love to her, but she’d managed. “What makes you ask?”
She shrugged. “I was shopping today and I saw a man looking at me.”
“Honey, you’re beautiful. Men are going to look.”
“Thank you.” She blushed again. Her gaze met his and lingered, the electricity between them steady and hot, causing a pulsing throughout his body that he couldn’t deny.
“But this guy was different,” she said, bringing them back to the issue at hand. “I mean, it felt different. I was on Fifth Avenue and he didn’t look like your average guy in a business suit during lunch hour. He had this crewcut and leering gaze. And I saw him again. Well, I thought I did, through the window of a coffee shop. And then I blinked and he was gone. And I thought…” She paused, obviously thinking things through.
The ice cream had begun to melt over the cone and dampen the napkin surrounding it. All erotic thoughts gone for the moment, he eased the ice cream out of her hand and dumped their messy cones into the trash next to the bench. “You thought what?”
“That it was happening again.” She began twisting her fingers together, and he stilled the nervous movement by covering her hands with his. She shot him a grateful glance.
“You thought what was happening again?”
“When my parents died, I had a hard time.” She shook her head. “Actually, it started before that. My parents weren’t what you’d call stay-at-home parents. My dad was a stockbroker and he’d done fairly well in some good markets. He had savings, and since they liked to live on the edge, their money went for extreme sports—hot-air ballooning, bungee jumping, motorcycle trips. Good thing the neighbors liked us because we spent a lot of time sleeping at their homes, and my parents weren’t reliable about when they’d return. Sometimes I thought they wouldn’t come back at all. That’s when it started.”
Jake wasn’t sure where she was going with her story but he wanted to hear more. This was the insight he craved and he wanted to listen as well as to help. “When what started?” he asked.
“Anxiety attacks. I swear, I was such a nervous kid.”
He squeezed her hand tight. “Understandable, I’d think. And you must have overcome it well because I’d never have known if you hadn’t told me.”
“Well, I was lucky I had a good school psychologist, and when I got older I learned stress management techniques. Things quieted down for a long time, acted up again after the accident. Maybe because they had to. It’s amazing what you can accomplish when life forces you to grow up quick.”
“What accident?”
She frowned, making him want to touch her face, stroke and smooth out the wrinkled skin and then kiss her puckered lips. But he refrained, knowing he would have time later on. For now, he needed her to continue.
“I told you I raised my brother, right? Because my parents died in a small plane crash. Dad was piloting.”
She shivered and Jake winced. “I’m sorry.”
“It was their choice. Literally. They went up in a storm, weather even the FAA warned against flying in.” She sighed, obviously resigned. “So the panic attacks got worse and I went for some short-term help. I needed to get myself under control so I could take care of Marc. And I did. It’s been ages since I’ve experienced any kind of true anxiety.”
“Until today.”
“Until today,” she agreed.
“Then, maybe we ought to give it some credence?” Jake knew he already was. The prickling feeling on his skin and in his gut was strong and sure. He just couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong. Yet.
She let out a huge exhale of air, obviously relieved he believed her. “I doubt it. I think I just needed to get it out in the open to see how ridiculous I was being.”