Finished The Other Boleyn Girl...geez, if half of the temper-tantrums are true, I don't blame the man for straying! And thank God times have changed...Can't wait to read some of the other books by Ms. Gregory:)
Started With All My Heart, by Margaret Campbell Barnes...the story of Charles II and his life with Catherine of Braganza. I'm almost finished, and have skimmed quite a bit of it. Some parts are a little dry.
This one's for AJ...another excerpt from 'Wild at Heart'...
An hour later, Brad knew Emma’s system inside and out. He’d retrieved his laptop and set up a new program. Emma would call out the invoice number; who the creditor was; and the amount. Brad would input the information, and soon a pattern was definitely starting to emerge.
“He’s taking money out of the trust again,” Emma sighed when she saw the pattern. “That’s what he started doing last year, when he discovered the Arapahoe National Forest Hotel had a casino in the back.” She leaned back and threw down her pen.
“How do you know it’s coming from the trust?” Brad asked. “The numbers are adding up, but there’s still no reason the suppliers are still claiming they haven’t been paid!”
Emma yawned and stretched, causing Brad to avert his eyes again. He’d learned in the last hour that if her arms went above her head, she was about to bend over. To avoid any painful swelling, he’d caught on to her tricks!
“The only thing I can do is take a printout to the bank in the morning,” she said finally, mildly disappointed Brad’s eyes weren’t burning with lust anymore. She gathered up the various stacks of papers and put them back in the third shoebox. “Now that these are organized and tallied, I’ll put them in the filing cabinet tomorrow.”
Brad stood up to help her take the boxes outside, and as he retrieved the last carton, the lid fell off. Emma reached for it, and as she bent over, her shirt tugged loose, and revealed the naked curve of her hip. She straightened up and caught sight of Brad’s raw desire burning in his eyes, the pulse on his neck beating rapidly. She took the carton from him and brushed past him to the door. After putting the box in her vehicle, she sauntered over and brushed past him again.
“Something to drink?” she asked, enjoying the look on his face. The man looked as if he was torn between grabbing her and storming out. Emma confidently handed him the can of Pepsi, but made the mistake of looking up in his eyes. His brown eyes were a smoldering black, and very carefully, Brad set the can on the table and in one swift moment, pulled her close and covered her mouth with his.
Caught by surprise, Emma didn’t struggle. Brad’s tongue immediately invaded and took command of hers, and she rather liked the sensation. Robert had been the first man to kiss her properly, the first man to teach her the joys of sex, but nothing had prepared her for this fierce, demanding play of lips and tongue! Unconsciously, her hands stole up to encircle his neck as she moved closer.
Brad’s hands slid up her shirt and finally cupped the mounds that had teased him all evening long. He squeezed; he molded; he gently traced their shape. Emma moaned softly and encouraged, he dragged his mouth from hers and planted them on a succulent nipple.
How they ended up in his bedroom, he was never quite sure. All he was aware of was this delectable woman, her body softening under his as their clothing melted away. She twisted around and grabbed his shaft, sliding it between her hands before he felt the warmth of her mouth. He stopped her before he came, and slammed her on her back, his lips racing down her body, spreading her glorious womanhood before him. He inserted a finger as he nuzzled her breasts, and gently worked her tiny seed with his thumb. Emma bucked under his hand and cried out. He worked her a little longer before finally burying himself deeply within her.
Lips, tongues, and bodies entwined for what seemed hours. Her growing cries echoing in his ears, the roaring in his head as he savored her joys, all led to the final leap into the abyss of satisfaction as his body emptied itself into her depths.
He cradled her in his arms as they came down, his hands smoothing her dampened hair off her forehead. “God…Emma…” He was filled with remorse. Not just for cheating on Angie, but for the violent way he had attacked Emma. What the hell had caused him to manhandle her like that? “Emma…I’m sorry…”
Her temper flared. “You’re sorry? For what? Screwing me? You’ve got some nerve!” She rolled away and tugged her hair loose from under his head. Her breasts bounced with indignation as she scooted off the bed and moved around the room, searching for her clothes. “Do you do this often? Meet girls on the road and lay them for the fun of it?” She located her jeans and turned her back, stuffing her young body into them.
Brad sat up. “I’ve got some nerve? What about that display at the restaurant? You knew I could see down your shirt, and yet it didn’t seem to bother you! So don’t talk to me about my nerve, lady, because with that display, you’re lucky I’ve got more self-control! A lesser man would have hauled you behind the building.” He stood up and began pulling on his own blue jeans.
“A lesser man…hmph!” Emma snorted. She whirled around as Brad was reaching for his discarded shirt. Her breasts jiggled and brushed his arm as he retrieved it.
Brad’s fingers dropped the shirt and closed around the fullness of her breast. “You are lovely,” he muttered, his mouth seeking hers once more. His other hand crept up and closed around the other one. “So ripe, so firm…” Gently, his hands caressed hers, and against her will, Emma found herself enjoying the contact. But this was unacceptable.
“Enjoying another notch on your belt?” she whispered softly as Brad’s lips descended on her neck.
He pulled away and looked at her. “I don’t operate that way.”
“Could have fooled me.” Emma gathered up her shirt and threw it over her head, slamming the bedroom door behind her. She found her cowboy boots and shoved her feet into them, ignoring Gavin when he opened his bedroom door to investigate.
“None of your business,” she shouted back at his inquiry and hurriedly left the cabin.
Gavin took in Brad’s bare chest; his jeans unfastened, and merely shook his head, closing the door once more.
Brad sagged against the doorframe in defeat. He wouldn’t blame Gavin if he changed his mind about the accounting firm’s offer and declined. He closed his own door and flopped on the bed, wondering if he’d royally screwed up.