All Over You Read Free

the next few hours.
    She narrowed her eyes, trying to define exactly what it was about Mac that had captured her imagination and led her to cast him as the star of her most intimate fantasies. It wasn’t as though she’d been looking for a man to play the role. She’d always spread her favors, so to speak, across a broad spectrum of hunks — George Clooney, Jude Law and Johnny Depp. And even if she had been looking for inspiration closer to home, there were plenty of attractive men on the show — eye candy galore, in fact — who could have fit the bill equally well. But none of them had the power to turn her insides to mush the way Mac did.
    Of its own accord, her finger pressed the pause button, the better to complete her appraisal.
    He was wearing only a pair of worn jeans, exposing most of the good stuff to her roving eye. She scanned his broad shoulders appreciatively — well-muscled but not too Arnold Schwarzenegger chunky, they were just about perfect. Then her eyes dropped to his trim, toned waist. Also pretty damned fine. And his butt — the perkiest, most grabbable, most I-want-to-take-a-bite butt she’d ever seen. As if all of the above wasn’t enough, her gaze slid to his long, strong legs. Firm thigh muscles hinted at speed and strength and stamina and a whole lot of other
S
words that were making her feel decidedly…
warm
as she lay stretched on the couch.
    God, he was hot. With a capital
H
.
    Biting her lip, Grace pressed the play button and watched as he swung back into action. He had an amazing walk — almost a swagger, really. Like a modern-day cowboy. It screamed masculinity and confidence, and combined with his sans-shirt condition, was almost enough to make her hyperventilate.
    “Oh, yeah,” she groaned as he turned toward camera, revealing superbly toned abdominal muscles and a chest covered with exactly the right amount of darkened caramel curls.
    The camera zoomed in tight for a close-up and she was treated to the full force of his cerulean-blue gaze as he stared down the barrel. He had a strong brow, cheekbones and jaw line, with a straight, very masculine nose. His lips were chiseled and generous, and his dirty-blond hair flopped over his forehead enticingly. The preferred media comparison was to Paul Newman as a young man. Personally, Grace thought his face was all his own.
    “I trusted you,” his character, Kirk, said on-screen, his voice a low, gravely husk. “I believed every word you said.”
    “I didn’t know how to tell you,” his on-screen wife, Loni, said.
    “Haven’t we always been honest with each other?” he asked.
    “Too honest sometimes,” Loni admitted.
    A long silence as they eyed each other. Mac lifted a hand, running it through his already tousled hair. Grace squeezed her knees together as she watched his muscles ripple.
    On-screen, Loni crossed the space between them and laid a hand on his bare chest.
    You lucky witch,
Grace thought, imagining how hot and hard his skin must feel.
    “I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?” Loni asked in a small voice.
    As though he couldn’t stand her pain, Mac ducked his head to press a quick kiss to her cheek. Loni started to cry. Mac groaned and cupped her face.
    “Don’t,” Mac said, torn.
    Loni shook her head, inarticulate, and he ducked his head again to kiss her tears away. This time their noses bumped and within seconds their lips had found each other. Loni clutched at him, desperately trying to hold onto him. Mac hesitated a moment, then angled her head back, deepening the kiss. Her hands splayed down over his neck, across his back. He pulled her closer, absolutely intent on getting what he wanted.
    Heart banging against her rib cage, Grace reached for the pause button on the remote.
    She was turned on. There was no denying it. She’d been fantasizing about Mac for so long now that all she had to do was look at him and her body responded. Briefly she considered inviting Mr. Buzzy out from her bedroom drawer to