Still The One by Joan Reeves

Author:Joan Reeves
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Joan Reeves
Published: 2011-05-09T04:00:00+00:00

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"Hi, I'm Preston Kesey. So tell me, Tiffany, how did you get mixed up with this bunch?"

Tiffany stared into the man's sapphire blue eyes and couldn't look away. Her brain seemed to shut down because she found herself unable to form a coherent thought. From the moment he'd walked in, she'd been mesmerized by him. He was quite possibly the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. Her brain might have shut down, but her heart was pounding so hard that she feared she’d have a heart attack if it didn’t slow.

Never comfortable with small talk, she usually discussed business. Either her own or the business world in general. "What do you think about the falling interest rates in the bond market?" she asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

Preston hadn’t blinked as he looked into her eyes, as green as oak leaves on a spring morning. To him, she was perfect in every way. He'd like to paint her. In the nude. Something about her had him acting bolder than he ever had with a woman he'd just met. He reached out and touched her hand. Sliding his fingers up the soft skin, he encircled her wrist. He felt the wild pulse pounding there. It told him all he needed to know.

"I think you and I have a lot in common," he said, feeling his own response to her nearness.

Tiffany studied his mouth and wondered how it would feel next to hers. She’d never had a thought like that before in all her twenty-six years. Even today when she'd kissed Burke, she hadn't felt anything. She'd only done it to piss off Ally, and to give Burke a hard time.

"I have an MBA in Finance," she whispered. "And I’m the co-owner of this company," she said, breathlessly.

Preston’s eyes dropped to her lips. He caressed them with his eyes, imagined wetting them with his tongue before sliding it into the warm, darkness of her delectable mouth.

"I have a degree in Fine Art." He lifted her hand to his lips and burned a kiss onto the palm. Her hand shook.

Tiffany felt heat streak through her.

"I paint brilliant masterpieces that seldom sell," Preston whispered.

Tiffany moved closer to him and wished she could get as close as possible with nothing, not even clothes, between them. "You’re right," she murmured, "we do have a lot in common."

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