Slow Hands Read Online Free

flicked her eyes first at one long jeanclad thigh and then the other before raising her gaze to his face. She hated this feeling of exposure she got every time Sam invaded her space. She felt stripped naked and vulnerable beneath his patient gaze. Without warning, her pulse threatened to race out of control as she realized she wasn’t seeing patience in his gaze.
    She saw restrained hunger as he asked, “Is there any part of your life that you don’t organize and control?”
    “Ever had an impulse you
didn’t
act on?” Clare shot back before she could stop herself.
    His long, slow smile took her breath away. “Some of my favorite impulses are the ones I don’t act on. Waiting is sometimes half the fun. Think about it. Anticipation and foreplay. One’s mental. One’s physical. Together they’re mind-blowing.”
    Bells, whistles, and warning lights went off in Clare’s head.
Foreplay.
Her heart slammed against her ribs andher chest constricted. Instinctively, she reached for her appointment-filled day planner as if to reassure herself that there was a real world outside the intimate circle the man in front of her had created with his body and provocative words.
    Sensing her withdrawal, Sam twisted her own words and asked, “Ever had an impulse you
did
act on?”
    Clare’s chin came up. “Not that I’m particularly proud of.”
    “Well, at least you admit to having impulses.”
    “Are you done?” Clare asked, refusing the bait and eyeing the door. Without words she made her desire to leave very plain.
    Sam scooted his chair back and watched her graceful exit. But when the door clicked softly behind her, he promised, “Lady, I’m just getting started.”

TWO
    “Last night? You want to know how last night went?” Clare asked, and leaned back in the no-nonsense executive chair that matched the functional furniture in her office.
    Dave Gronski, owner and founder of Racing Specialties, grinned and shut the door. “Yeah. I’m your employer. I paid for the class. I’d like a report.”
    Feeling testy, Clare snapped, “I’ll put it in a memo.”
    “Oooh!” Dave stretched out on her sofa, “Not so good, huh?”
    “Why don’t you ask your buddy?”
    A chuckle rumbled across Dave’s ample belly, which had been considerably larger thirty pounds ago. “How long did it take you to figure that out?”
    “About three seconds. He called me Clare.
Before
we’d been introduced. Dammit, Dave. Did you have to give him a description? Didn’t you trust me? I told you I’d show up for class.”
    “I didn’t give him a physical description.”
    Clare tossed her mechanical pencil on a stack of computerprintouts and steepled her fingers. Dave appreciated the value of plain speaking, and he was considerably less volatile since his heart attack a few months back, but Clare doubted his tolerance extended to being called a liar. She contented herself with pressing her lips together and looking at him out of the corner of her eye.
    “Honest, Clare.” Dave, mischief written all over his face, tucked his thumbs behind his paisley suspenders. “I didn’t even tell him the color of your hair.”
    “Then how did he know me?”
    “Lucky guess. Now, how did last night go?”
    “Probably not as well as you wanted. Something about me rubs that man the wrong way.”
    “No kidding,” Dave murmured. Clare thought he looked like the Cheshire cat would have looked if he’d swallowed Alice’s canary.
    “I tried, Dave. Really. But every time I thought things were going well, I’d say or do something that put him on edge. For the life of me, I don’t know what I did.” Casually, she picked up the pencil and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger. “If things weren’t bad enough, I got stuck with him as my class partner.”
    Dave’s eyebrows arched toward the ceiling. “Partner?”
    “You heard me.”
    “And?”
    “And we’re supposed to research ice cream joints for Saturday’s field trip. Dave—” She