With heart pounding, Annalise watched for the dock where handsome Schuyler would be waiting.
How long had it been since they last locked lips? Too long, it seemed.
Would they drive at break-neck speed to Thistle Inn and make mad, passionate love? Or would they prolong the inevitable, lingering over drinks at the cafe?
His cologne. Obsession. His eyes. Glassy pools of aquamarine. His hair. Corn silk. His body. Hugh Jackman. His mouth. Succulent.
“If he doesn’t propose, I will!” conspired Annalise. “Ha, ha. I’ll sweep him off his size 11 feet!”
“Another best seller for my sex-starved housewives!” exclaimed Barbara.