Too Hot To Handle. Barbara Daly
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“Well, it’s late. I’d better go.”
“Yes, I suppose….” Sarah answered.
Desire stretched between them like a taut, heavy rope. If either tugged, the other would topple and this farce, this forced politeness, would be over. All she had to do was smile, open the door, let him leave, take two aspirin and retreat to her bed, alone, for twelve more years.
But she couldn’t leave it like this.
“Alex, aren’t you going to kiss me good-night?”
He took one step toward her. “I wouldn’t dare kiss you, Sarah.” He hesitated for an instant. “First date, you know.”
“But, Alex…”
His honest admission made the ache in her body more immediate, more demanding than the ache in her heart. She wanted him so desperately, she could barely remember the hurt, the anger, the vows of revenge.
She held out her hand to pull him back into the room. “It’s not our first date now, is it?”
Dear Reader,
Remember that special high school boyfriend? Some of you lucky ladies married him and are still living happily ever after. Some of us lost him to a prettier girl, or said a bittersweet goodbye as we went off in different directions, vowing to be true but quickly finding other boys—men now—and feeling that old flame die.
Then there’s Sarah Nevins, beautiful and feisty, whose memories are still feeding the blaze of that first love many years later. He was the one who ended their youthful romantic idyll, and now, out of the blue, he’s back, wanting a second chance.
What’s a girl to do? Especially when he plies her with flowers and…air conditioners. It’s a sizzling summer in New York, and when Sarah and Alex are together, the temperature only rises. The old passion is still there, unabated. All Sarah has to do is forgive him for the past, but can she let go of her need for revenge?
I recommend that you find a cool spot and pour yourself a glass of iced tea before you turn another page of this book. Otherwise, you might find it…Too Hot To Handle. Here’s wishing you a great summer with lots of time for reading!
Barbara Daly
Books by Barbara Daly
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
859—A LONG HOT CHRISTMAS
HARLEQUIN DUETS
13—GREAT GENES!
34—NEVER SAY NEVER!
69—YOU CALL THIS ROMANCE!?
ARE YOU FOR REAL?
Too Hot to Handle
Barbara Daly
This book is for my park friends, those intrepid New Yorkers who walk their dogs in Washington Square at seven in the morning, no matter what’s going on in the rest of the world or falling out of the clouds above them: Wanda, Gideon and Crissy; Natt and Nickie; Mary Lou and Emily; Mary, Teddy and Jordan; Lynn, Boris and Jenny; Marvin, Ziggy and Miss Daphne; Ann, Pat, Phoebe and Siren; David, Russ and Sally; Marsha and her Emily; Rozanna and the memory of Tara; Susan, first with Jazz and now with Ralph; Holden, Calpurnia, Nina, Lucy, Tiger, the sweet Sheltie, and all their moms and dads; Sandra and Lou, who are actually walking; and Cecily, my excuse for being there; and New York itself, whose special qualities make friendships like ours possible. Bless you, and stay strong.
Contents
1
“YOU NEED TO GET LAID.”
Dumbfounded, Sarah Nevins stared across her desk at Macon Trent, congenital nerd and, as the guy who kept the computers up and running at Great Graphics! her most essential employee. Otherwise, she’d fire him on the spot.
“Don’t hold back, Macon,” she said, forcing her lips into a tight little smile. “Just be blunt.”
“As blunt as you were with Ray just now?”
Sarah’s steady gaze wavered. “What exactly did I say to Ray?”
“You told him his copy for the RemCom brochure sucked blood from chickens. It was not your usual management style.”
Sarah sank her face into her hands. “Where is he? I have to apologize.”
“He’s in the rest room crying.”
“Okay, as soon as he comes out.” She rocked her head from side to side. “I don’t know what made me do it.”
“You aren’t like the Sarah we keep working for in spite of our miserable paychecks. How long has it been since you went out with a man?”
Sarah raised her head to glare at him. “Macon, that’s even worse than asking a woman how much she weighs.” He needed contact lenses, a personal shopper and a lengthy session with Miss Manners.
“Oh. Thanks for the tip.” His reflective pause was brief. “I think your last date was about a year and a half ago. With our cardstock salesman.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Our former cardstock salesman.”
She gritted her teeth. Even Miss Manners would find Macon a challenge. “I didn’t like his yellows. He took it personally.”
His other eyebrow winged upward. She gave up the fight. After a deep, mood-changing sigh, she said, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should start looking around for a new relationship.” She, at least, had some manners, some delicacy of expression. But she wouldn’t be looking for a relationship, she’d be looking for a man, somebody to satisfy the needs only a man could satisfy.
“Don’t do anything foolish.”
“Do I ever?”
“Not at the office.”
“Not anywhere. I’ll meet a man through friends, or find a bonded carpenter or plumber. A union man with credentials.”
The search and capture wouldn’t be too difficult. Her standards were reasonable and easily met. He should be clean—drug-free, disease-free and addicted to daily showers, deodorants and promising toothpastes—and lacking a record of abusive behavior.