Mine 'Til Monday Read Online Free Page A

to be accelerating. And without a backward glance, either.
    Over a ridge she found herself looking down on a row of golfers, each whacking balls far into oblivion. Mud ambled down the hill to an open spot and stopped.
    “Wait here.”
    Dorothy stood on the pad, feeling more foolish than she had in quite some time. Mud disappeared around a low wooden enclosure, and came out a moment later with a bucket of golf balls in each hand.
    He reached her side and set down the buckets.
    “Okay. Let’s get started.”
    “Right,” Dorothy said, and reached for the closest club, drawing it out of the bag. It was lighter than she’d expected, and she balanced it tentatively on the ground.
    “You’re going to use a putter?” Mud demanded, frowning.
    “Of course not!” Quickly, Dorothy stuffed the club back into the bag. “I’m not a total idiot.”
    Mud sighed heavily, a long, dramatic intake of breath as his eyes rolled heavenwards. “For a gal who’s been in the sporting goods business all these years—”
    “Sportswear, not sporting goods. There’s a big difference. Besides, my company makes fibers, not the clothes themselves.”
    “But if you land this job at Finesse Sportswear—”
    “Obviously, I’ll have to round out my knowledge. It’s no big deal. I have mastered a few more challenging concepts than sending a teeny little ball flying through the air, you know.”
    “Yeah. You’re the genius. How could I forget? Dorothy Friggin’ Child Prodigy Who-the-heck were you named after again?”
    While he spoke, Mud selected another club and placed it in her hands. Dorothy took it tentatively, but before she could heft it Mud placed his hands over hers and began moving them down the shaft of the club. His fingers were strong, well-callused with hard pads on his fingers. The combination of rough and warm seized her attention and suddenly Dorothy was aware of every sensation.
    “Crowfoot-Hodgkin,” she replied, swallowing as heat seemed to travel right from his hands through her own, and right on into her body. Her fingers went limp as Mud arranged them on the smooth metal. “Dorothy Crowfoot-Hodgkin—”
    “Nobel prize winner, what was it, 1910? Chemistry?”
    “You remembered all along,” Dorothy accused, but with little venom. Once he had shifted her thumb so it met her other fingers, Mud circled around behind her, his body inches from hers. He was so close that she could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck, and she had worked to tamp down a delicious shudder.
    “Heck, you never let me forget! You were always reminding me that your parents were professors, which automatically made you smarter than me.”
    “Mmm.” Dorothy feigned distraction, bending over the club in an approximation of a ready stance.
    Unfortunately, the movement pressed her backside squarely against Mud’s body. Rather than back away, he extended his arms along hers, adjusting the angle of her elbows, nudging one foot slightly closer to the other with the toe of his sneaker. With his chin practically resting on her shoulder, Dorothy let her eyes flutter shut for a moment and tried to fight off the powerful notion that Mud’s teaching style felt an awful lot like a lover’s embrace.
    “Hey, relax. Tension will screw up your swing like nothing else.” Mud’s rough, low words in her ear felt like hot syrup, and she fought the crazy notion to angle her head just a little until his lips were aligned with her own. “Still, I think your sister Marie got the better end of the deal.”
    “Oh...?” Dorothy waggled the club slightly in an attempt to prove she was concentrating on the sport.
    “Well, at least everyone’s heard of Marie Curie. Most folks probably even know she discovered—what did she discover, anyway?”
    “Mmm...radium, for one thing, “ Dorothy managed weakly, her voice barely more than a whisper.
    If Mud noticed, he didn’t let on. Evidently satisfied with her stance at last, he guided her through a