The Return of Mrs. Jones by Jessica Gilmore

Author:Jessica Gilmore [Gilmore, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780373742875
Amazon: 0373742878
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-04-02T04:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘OOOF!’ WHEN HAD breathing got so hard? Bending over to catch her breath, the tightness of a stitch pulling painfully at her side, Lawrie conceded that a ten-mile run might have been a mite ambitious.

Of course, she reassured herself, running outside was harder, what with all those hills and the wind against her, to say nothing of no nice speedometer to regulate her stride. Straightening up, one hand at her waist, Lawrie squinted out at the late-afternoon sun. On the other hand, she conceded, although her late, lamented treadmill came with TV screens and MP3 plug-ins it was missing the spectacular views of deep blue sea and rolling green and yellow gorse of her current circuit. It was definitely an improvement on the view of sweaty, Lycra-clad gym-goers that her old location had provided her with.

Taking a much needed long, cool gulp of water, Lawrie continued at a trot, looping off the road and onto the clifftop path that led towards the village. If she continued along to the harbour she could reward herself with a refuelling stop at the Boat House before walking back up the hill home. No way was she going to try and run up that hill—not unless her fitness levels dramatically improved in the next half an hour.

Just keep going, she thought fiercely. Concentrate on that latte...visualise it. It was certainly one incentive.

And if Jonas just happened to be working at the Boat House today then that, just possibly, could be another incentive. The pain in her side was forgotten as the night before flashed through her mind, her lips curving in a smile as she remembered. Another night of heat, of long, slow caresses, hot, hard kisses, hands, tongues, lips. Bodies entwining.

Lawrie’s pulse started to speed up as her heartbeat began racing in a way that had nothing to do with the exercise.

She upped the trot to a run, her legs pumping, her arms moving as she increased her pace. She wasn’t going to think about it. She wasn’t going to dwell on the delicious moment when day turned into evening. She wasn’t going to remember the tingle of anticipation that ran through her as she sat on the terrace in the evening sun, an untouched book and an iced drink before her, pretending not to listen for the purr of his car. Pretending not to hope.

She was most certainly not going to recall the thrill that filled her entire body, the sweet jolt that shot through her from head to toe, when he finally appeared.

Time was moving so fast. She had less than a month left in Trengarth. So she wasn’t going to question what was going on here. She was going to enjoy the moment. And what moments they were. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Hugo had made love twice in a week, let alone in a night, whereas she and Jonas... Well...

Sure, she hadn’t planned for this, and for once she was being the exact opposite of measured and sensible.

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