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"What's so special about this bike?"
He looked back at her with a laugh. "It wouldn't interest you."
She narrowed her eyes and glared at him, huffing out an angry breath in the process. "If I wasn't interested I wouldn't have asked. Why do men always assume because it's mechanical or a boy's toy, that women can't understand?"
Dark eyebrows lifted in amusement. "That isn't what I said."
"It's what you implied."
"You're right and I'm sorry."
Gray eyes caught the sun and sparkled in her direction and her annoyance dissolved in a heartbeat. How did he always manage to turn her insides to Jell-O?
"At the risk of sounding patronizing," he said, his lips twitching with humor, "how familiar are you with motorcycles?"
She grinned wickedly. "My brother, Scott, is a fanatic, remember?"
"Of course." He paused, eyeing her with obvious interest." Well, it's a two-wheel drive," he began. "They have them in the States, but they're only dirt bikes and very rare. They're safer, faster and have better handling and grip. A road racing bike like that will take the world by storm."
"Scott would be totally fascinated. How does it work?"
He raised his eyebrows and stared in surprise. She grinned at him, enjoying his astonishment.
"As you are no doubt aware," he continued, his eyes locking with hers as though challenging her not to lose interest, "motorbike engines normally have a chain, or shaft, that exits the back and side of the motor and goes to the back wheel, which drives the bike."
He grinned. "The Hatari has a system whereby another shaft goes up through the frame and down to the front wheel, making it a twowheel drive."
"Wow! That's amazing."
Her exuberance seemed to encourage him. He refilled their glasses with the delicious lemonade and sat cross-legged beside her chair. "It's almost time for me to think about putting a brochure together, prepare some magazine articles, tout this baby around. If I'm going to produce, I need to find sponsorship." He glanced across at his creation. "Or sell the rights, which is more likely."
The hint of regret in his voice didn't go unnoticed. "I guess you'll need a heap of money."
After a brief hesitation, he said simply, "Yes."
"Will it be difficult to find?"
"Who knows?' he answered with a shrug. "But I have some useful contacts."
"What happens if you have to sell the rights?"
"In effect, I'll have sold my soul." He laughed at her astonishment. "Not really, but I'll have no say in what happens. Naturally, I'll want to keep this one for myself." He glanced at his watch. "Mrs. Evans will be here soon."
She'd forgotten about Mrs. Evans and admitted, but only to herself, she didn't want the housekeeper to intrude on their short time together. She wanted to be alone with Seth, to talk about his work, to know more about him.
As though it had a will of its own, her hand reached out and tentatively traced the small scars at the top of his arm. His gaze lifted to meet hers and he took her hand, carrying it to his lips to lightly press them to each fingertip. The gray slate eyes turned smoky and opaque.
At that moment, Emma willed him to kiss her.
As though he'd read her mind, Seth raised himself onto his knees and leaned across her until their lips were almost touching. Then he hesitated.
Her breathing quickened and her heart raced out of control. What was he waiting for?
Her unspoken plea must have reached into his thoughts. Slowly, Seth closed the gap between them, his lips finding hers eager and waiting. His mouth was firm and warm, strong and gentle. His tongue sought entry to her mouth, teasing, testing and Emma eagerly invited him in. He tasted of lemonade.
Clearly, Seth didn't hold back, responding to her encouragement as a starving man falls on a feast.
They clung to each other and Emma gave in to a delicious sensation of floating. Her eyelids fluttered down and she let the bone-melting kiss consume her.
She wanted more; she wanted everything. Liquid heat pooled in her stomach and slipped downward between her thighs. Although it was a new sensation, she knew exactly what it was.
She wasn't simply attracted to Seth, she desired him. That could be dangerous, but she didn't care. There was too much magic happening.
Her hands played over his sun-warmed back, the skin smooth and taut over well-honed muscle. He groaned when she accepted his deepening kiss, his lips moving sensually over hers, wanting, needing.
Posted October 9, 2003
Wanting to live her dream as a professional photographer, Emma Hayward knew that she would have to prove herself capable. After all, the world of wildlife photography was male-dominated. Therefore, Emma decided she would do what no other photographer had been able to do before. She was going to capture the 'Beast of Bodmin Moor' on film and prove that the legendary black leopard was REAL! .................... Seth Trevelyan used to be a road racer. Due to a major accident during a race, that career was over. Now he was a motorcycle designer. His best design of all time was almost completed. Only a bit of fine tuning was left. Then he came across lovely Emma whose automobile had died and left her stranded with an injured ankle. Seth got her settled in Trevelyan House where Mrs. Evans, the housekeeper, and he tended her. Upon learning her profession, Seth knew that he would have to keep a very close eye on Emma. If she really was after the black leopard, then it was up to him to make her believe it did not exist. However, she could also be a corporate spy sent to photograph his latest design. .................... ***** This entire novel is set in Cornwall with the heroine being half American and half Cornish. Fans of the legends about King Arthur will especially adore this story. Trevelyan House is set near the Dozmary Pool, where the Lady of the Lake received Excalibur from Sir Bedwyr, just before Arthur died. Excellent tale that I highly recommend! *****Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.