Before she could lift herself to her feet, Austin stood and held out his hand. As she looked at that proffered hand, some heretofore unknown alarm system in her head started clanging as though Blue Falls was about to be bombed by B-52s. Some instinct said if she touched his hand, she was going to have trouble sleeping at night, no matter how exhausted she was.
But then she couldn’t really refuse without appearing rude. Telling herself to think about anything other than Austin—the price of bread, how many elements she could remember from the periodic table, how dandelions grew back so blasted fast—she accepted his hand. Dang if he didn’t pull her up as easily as if she weighed no more than one of those dandelions. And as she feared, sizzles of electricity raced up her arm and proceeded through the rest of her body.
“Thanks,” she said, wincing inwardly at how forced her cheery voice sounded.
Austin released her hand so suddenly it was as if her touch had turned scorching hot. Trying not to be offended, she gave him a quick smile and retreated inside. But when she returned to the area of the kitchen where she’d been logging her finds, she had a hard time focusing on the task. In fact, she found it hard to sit still. Darn her overactive imagination. It was having a field day up in her head, wondering what that large, warm hand would feel like touching her face, his fingers finding their way through her riot of curls to the back of her head.
No, she wouldn’t think about his lips. Nope, nope, nope.
Determined to regain some of her suddenly AWOL sanity, she decided to tackle a closet in the master bedroom. But when she stepped through the doorway, her gaze landed on the bed covered with an old-fashioned chenille bedspread. She knew she was in trouble when instead of wondering what she could do with the chenille, she had a mental flash of crawling beneath it with a very hot and naked Austin Bryant.
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