Chapter Eight

He made it sound intensely sensual, made her feel intensely sensual. She took refuge in sipping coffee again, trying not to wonder just how elemental he was and how he would look as nature had fashioned him.

The open-necked shirt had been tantalising her all throughout dinner, giving her a glimpse of tight black curls arrowing down his chest. His forearms weren't hairy, their darkly tanned skin gleaming like oiled teak. She imagined his whole body would be mainly like that with a sprinkle of black springy curls in the most masculine places. The desire to know, to touch, conflicted terribly with the sensible course of simply wishing him well and waving him goodbye. He wasn't going to be in her life.

Except for this one night.

Leonard paid the restaurant bill, insisting it was his party treat for Favour. Everyone had drank their coffee, it was time to go. Nervous tension gripped Jasmine as Collins moved to hold her chair back for an easy rise from the table. She looked at the full moon