Quade: The Irresistible One. BRONWYN JAMESON

wave of longing washed through her, blindsiding her with its intensity, urging her to move closer, to place her hands on the broad wall of his chest. His heart pounded reassuringly loud so she slid her hands higher, up toward his neck.

      She moistened her lips. Her lids drifted shut.

      Suddenly hard fingers circled her wrists, forcibly removing her hands, setting her firmly back on her feet. When Chantal opened her eyes he was already striding out across the pasture, bending to pick up a golf ball, then moving on. Dang. No, this situation deserved a much harsher word than that old crock. Damn.

      Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.

      She’d been a whisper away from his lips, from his kiss. And she had no doubt that Cameron Quade would kiss with the same confidence, the same sure-handed skill, as he’d employed when tutoring her golf swing. Missing out on a kiss like that was enough to make a woman weep, especially a woman who’d never been kissed by a true craftsman. With a heavy sigh, she picked up her pail and stomped off after him.

      Had she read him wrong? She didn’t think so, although perhaps she’d moved too fast. How fast was too fast? Some men didn’t like aggressive women…although her lame attempt at a kiss hardly fit that tag. And that girlfriend he’d had at Barker Cowan, that Gina Whatsername in Contracts, she hadn’t possessed a passive bone in her long, tightly strung body.

      Perhaps she should have grabbed hold of his sweater. Or his face or his hair. Lord knows, she wanted to bury her fingers in that thick dark head of hair. Whatever, her prekissing technique obviously needed as much work as her golf game. Perhaps she should enquire if the local community college ran any classes along those lines. Seduction for Beginners. Or Bedroom Technique 101.