By Bronwyn Jameson
A possible robust, autonomous girl, Chantal Goodwin had continuously had an unsuspected weak point, a mystery starvation, for one breathtaking guy - and now that guy was once again in town.
The merest look from Cameron Quade nonetheless made her discomfort just like the lovesick schoolgirl she'd as soon as been. yet Chantal was once a lady now, a girl who might take what she sought after - and what she sought after used to be a unmarried shattering evening of ardour with this man.
Though their come upon shook her to the center, she instructed herself she might nonetheless watch him stroll away without end. yet that used to be earlier than she realized in regards to the new existence their evening of ardour had created.
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Extra resources for Quade - The Irresistible One
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Full dimples and all. As the impact of that smile danced through her blood, her heart burst into a rumba. "So tell me, Chantal… Lessons in golf, lessons in cooking. " Her voice sounded low and husky, not at all as light as she'd hoped. " He didn't answer right off and in the tricky twilight his expression was unfathomable. The moment stretched, as taut as the tendons in her fingers where they clutched the pail. Perhaps she should let go the air backing up in her lungs. Perhaps she should laugh and ease the moment.
Sure she hated golf, but she would push that little white ball from hole to hole with her nose if it helped raise her profile at Mitchell Ainsfield Butt, if it helped her earn enough respect to represent clients like Emily Warner. It wasn't that her current work was boring, more like … routine, when what she really craved was a stimulating challenge. "Cliffton Country Club Pro Shop. " "I hope so," Chantal replied briskly. "I need lessons and lots of them. " * * * Twenty-four hours later Chantal was peering through the window closest to Cameron Quade's front door into a still, silent, seemingly empty house.
Actually I employed a cleaning service. But the linen's all packed away and I didn't like going through your father's things. " She shook her head as if to clear it of that staggering notion. " "Exactly. " "Work. Clients. " With quick hands she resumed her bed making. "Julia also shopped for groceries. I'm sure you'll find there's enough to get by on. " Quade folded his arms and watched her tuck the plain white sheets into ruthless hospital corners. "Leave it," he said, feeling unaccountably irritated by her seamless switch to business mode.