Slow Hand Curves (Big Girls Next Door Erotica) Read Online Free Page B

flowing fabric was draped. A deep turquoise, the dress had a full, circle skirt that fell a few inches past my knees to preserve my modesty while showing off a little bit of leg. Surprising, I know, but I like my legs -- at least the parts below the knees. They look like they belong to a much thinner woman. I’m certain somewhere there is a really skinny girl pissed off because somehow she got my legs and I got hers.
    Still smiling at the thought, I met Sam at my front door. I had finished my outfit with a white tatted shawl around my shoulders, pearl white pumps and a matching clutch. He had changed into a slim-fit, button-down, collared-shirt in a dark charcoal that had the thinnest of pinstripes. He wore the bottom out over dress slacks of the deepest gray. He presented a mouthwatering sight. Too mouthwatering, actually, for him to take me on a date or anything like it.
    He caught me before I could retreat into my house. His hand curved around the back of my neck, the fingers pushing up into my curls as he pulled me toward him. He kissed the corner of my jaw, just a little below my ear. “Pure Hollywood.”
    I pressed a palm against his chest and looked away. The gesture came close to the one I’d witnessed with Portia that afternoon. Only I truly am demure. My blush was real. It started somewhere above my knees and ended at the top of my cheeks.
    Cupping my elbow, Sam led me to his car. It was a sedan, not much different than the decidedly family car Beau had complained about trading his Mustang in for once Melinda was six months pregnant and couldn’t slide into the sports car’s front seat like she used to.
    Seeing the sedan, I realized I didn’t know anything about Sam other than where he worked. He was maybe six years older than me, judging by the laugh lines that were just starting to appear. He could be divorced.
    Oh, double Dixie, I swore inside my head. He could be married! Worried, I turned to him as he opened the passenger side door.
    “What’s wrong, Amber?” He squeezed my shoulder, his gaze growing concerned.
    I looked at the sedan, worried I was about to insult him for the second time that day, but I had to know. “You’re single, right?”
    Sam chuckled, his expression relaxing again. “I drive a truck, Hollywood. Single cab, bench seat, with a sticky manual transmission and a bad rear shock.”
    Taking my hand, he maneuvered me into the seat, reached across me and fastened my safety belt. Cupping my face, he stared straight into my eyes. “This is my sister’s car. She’s got two rugrats.”
    Embarrassed by not trusting him, I lowered my lashes. “I like trucks. My daddy drives one that sounds a lot like yours.”
    His thumb brushed across my lower lip. “I’ll remember that for our second date.”
    Stunned, I watched him circle the front of the car. Did he really want another date? Triple Dixie -- I’d never had a second date. Most guys decided halfway through the first that being seen in public with me wasn’t worth getting close to Brandon Rice.
    Sam folded his long frame into the driver’s seat. Seeing my expression, he quirked a brow at me. “Am I being too optimistic, Hollywood?”
    That made me smile and lower my lashes again. I couldn’t remember smiling on any of my other dates. Of course, those dates had all been orchestrated by someone else -- mother, Beau, Melinda…even Bree had arranged one of my dates. My father was the only one that didn’t try to fix me.
    “Is that a yes or a no ?” One eye on the rear view mirror the other on me, Sam backed out of the drive and onto the street.
    “We’ll see.” I gave his shoulder a soft push.
    Capturing my hand, he held it against the side of his thigh, his thumb lightly stroking the inside of my wrist. The sedan was new enough to have a bunch of controls on the steering wheel. He pressed one and the CD player started. I recognized the song immediately, even though I hadn’t heard of Etta James before that day.
    “Are you