Silk by Stephens Elle

Author:Stephens, Elle [Stephens, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Elle Stephens
Published: 2013-04-23T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 3

The sweet red wine voice calling my name was like music to my ears. The kind of melody you love when you first hear it, but then it keeps playing repeatedly in your head until punching Ryan Seacrest in the mouth becomes a daytime fantasy. Then, after you go a few months without hearing it, it plays on the radio and it becomes a classic in your memory. Shane, the man with the deepest voice I had ever heard in all my born days, was behind me. The one I came here hoping to run into; the man who knocked holes into my walls a week ago and then stole my panties. Bob would never be the same. I was beginning to think I would never be the same.

I stopped dead, my hand on the door to the crappy country bar, squeezing my eyes shut trying to get a grip on my...well...everything. My heart roared the rhythm of a freight train through my head, so loud; I prayed he couldn’t hear it over the thumping music that pulsed from inside the building. My stomach clogged my throat and my brain had all but shut down. If I turned around now, I was would panic. That meant speed-talking, rambling Carrie would show up and look like a fool. AGAIN.

”Carrie?” He said again.

Dammit! He’s waiting for me to turn around. Turn around, Carrie. Quit being so lame, I chastised myself. Who needs therapy? I have an inner monologue! He was going to think I was ignoring him, if I didn’t turn around. Either that or he was going to think I am a total nut job. Neither option seemed too great to me, when I had come here searching for him. However, I still hadn’t decided WHY I was searching for him.

I took a deep breath and let go of the door, praying my legs would resist the urge to go jelly. Bracing for impact, I turned to face him. It was, perhaps the best—and worst—thing I had ever done. His damn face was BETTER than I recalled in my head. Dammit! In my head, he looked amazing. All intentions of berating him into giving me my panties back disintegrated into ashes and floated off into the night breeze.

He must be six foot five, I thought. Lean and fully muscled from years of hard work, his arms strained against the fabric of his simple black tee shirt, threatening to split the sleeve in two. In the dim light of the bar awning, I could see a day’s worth of stubble on his firm, square jaw. My hand ached to reach up and brush my fingertips against its roughness, to feel his body heat in my palm. I shivered involuntarily at the thought.

I cleared my throat loudly, trying to reassemble my thoughts into a logical pattern. “Um. Hi.” Clever greeting, Carrie. I thought, as I studied the ground. His boots were actually pretty damned cool. Mental head slap, I had lost my ever-lovin' mind.

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