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"First of all, don't sit like that," he said. McCade pulled her so that she faced him, so that their knees were almost touching, and he leaned forward slightly. "Step one: Invade the woman's personal space. Step two: Direct eye contact." He smiled into Sandy's eyes.
"McCade, this is silly—"
"I'm not finished. Now, without saying a word, a man can let a woman know he's interested in her." He let his eyes drop, focusing for a moment on her full lips, then lingering on the low neckline of her dress. "That's step number three. And if by now she hasn't run away, he might try step four—a nonsexual touch, something harmless like a handshake..." He lifted her hand, drawing her fingers into his. "...but turn that handshake into a caress," he continued, running his thumb lightly over the back of her hand.
Sandy stared down at her hand as he continued the sensuous movement. When she met his gaze, she could see the heat in his blue eyes. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue and her mouth went dry.
"Or you could try surrogate touching." He used one finger to trace the pattern of the fabric covering her couch. "It sends out a signal that says...I'd really rather be touching you..."