Take Me (Take a Chance 4)

The Countess’s horse halted as its rider’s hands tightened on the reins. Will stopped, too. He saw tension in the Countess’s shoulders, in the stiffness of her jaw. One more night, he told her silently. You can do it.

The Countess didn’t move. The seconds lengthened into a minute.

Will wanted to reach out and touch her arm, to give reassurance. He curled his hands into fists to stop himself.

Another minute passed, and still the Countess sat motionless, staring at Creed Hall.

Is this it? Will she break today? The gelding he rode shifted restlessly, sensing his disquiet.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow,” Will blurted.

The Countess turned her head to stare at him.

Will didn’t look away, as a servant should. Instead, he met her gaze. You can do it, Countess.

“Yes,” she said. “He will be gone.” She urged the mare into a trot.

At the great iron-studded door he dismounted and helped the Countess to alight. She took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and entered Creed Hall.

Will watched the heavy door swing shut. Someone needs to rescue you, my lady.

Eat Play Lust

“Paul Hammond?” She blinked a few more times to see if the broad-shouldered, desperately hot lumberjack would morph into the tubby, balding, middle-aged man she’d pictured on the phone. “You’re the guy from my Thursday group yoga class.”

She flushed as soon as the words left her mouth. It was the biggest class she taught—at least 30 students—and the fact that she’d noticed him probably revealed too much.

But she had noticed him. A lot. She was just surprised to see him here now for one of her private yoga lessons on a standup paddleboard. Cami cleared her throat and tried again. “So you’re the gourmet chef whose doctor prescribed a fitness program?”

He laughed, a warm, jubilant sound that made her toes curl. His well-trimmed beard and massive biceps completed the lumberjack image, assuming lumberjacks sported orange floral swim trunks and bare feet.

“Technically, my doctor didn’t prescribe a fitness program. It was my brother—who happens to be a doctor—harassing me to change up my exercise routine.” He grinned, and Cami felt her spleen do a somersault. “You thought I’d be wheeled here on a stretcher with a heart monitor on my chest and a leg of lamb dangling from my lips?”

Cami swallowed, pretty sure it was the lamb and not the mention of his chest and lips making her mouth water.

You’ve never eaten lamb, she reminded herself.

Cami tucked a flyaway chestnut curl behind her ear and surrep

titiously swiped the back of her hand over her mouth. Good, she wasn’t drooling in front of a client. Always a plus.

“Of course I didn’t expect that,” she lied, trying hard not to fixate on the intense grass-green color of his eyes. “You filled out my online intake form with your height and weight so I’d know which paddleboard to bring for your lesson.”

She just hadn’t made the connection between that online registration form and the student she’d been admiring in the back of her group yoga class for two months.