the little red one.”
Somehow he had already known. That the car would be little. And red. Eminently suitable for a woman with teddy bears on her housecoat and a lilac-painted bedroom and cute little pink toenails. Not a car the kind of women he liked drove: sporty, sleek, expensive.
Not one of whom had ever made the back of his neck tickle by saying his name!
“I’ll go put on a shirt and bring the car around to the front door. Can you meet me as quickly as possible? Can you manage them?”
“Of course I can manage them,” she said a little huffily.
“It’s just that you haven’t really, so far.”
“Oh!”
Ah, the bliss of her irritation! He turned and went out the door before she used her good arm to find something to throw at him.
Trixie watched the door shut behind Daniel Riverton. Her heart was beating way too fast, and she was aware she was breathing in his lingering scent!
What was wrong with her? He was arrogant. Bossy. Take-charge. Too sure of himself.
Dreamy. He was absolutely dreamy.
“Stop it!” she told herself. She was just exceedingly vulnerable. He had rescued her from a precarious situation. It was probably natural to feel this ache of awareness. Her senses were heightened, her every nerve felt as if it was strung taut, tingling with sensitivity!
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