Blue Skies Read Free

near stopped beating. You looked like an angel, sitting there.”
    An angel? Carly knew better, but it was a lovely compliment, anyway. “I just moved to the area. I’ll be starting grad school here in Crystal Falls this September.”
    “Ah. That explains why I haven’t seen you before. Where you from?”
    “Portland.”
    “Uh-oh, a city gal. No wonder we speak a different language. Right turn,” he inserted, cuing her with his body before executing the swing. Then, “You’ve got the most gorgeous blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I swear, they were shining at me like beacons from clear across the room. Tinted contacts, right? No eyes that blue can be natural.”
    While pursuing her bachelor degree, Carly had heard men in college campus bars say things like this to her friends. Pick-up lines, nothing more. He was hitting on her. And, oh, God, it felt wonderful. All her adult life, she’d sat on the sidelines, listening to life happening all around her and wishing that someone would notice her . Now, at long last, someone finally had. Even better, he was handsome and charming. She felt like a princess in one of the fairy tales her mother had read to her years ago.
    “Nope, no contacts,” she assured him with a tinkling laugh. She fluttered her lashes. “These are the real McCoy.”
    “You’re kidding. Damn. Is this my lucky night, or what? You’re the most beautiful woman in the place.”
    Carly knew he was only telling her what he thought she wanted to hear. And he was right. It was what she wanted to hear. My turn . A reckless, dizzying excitement coursed through her. Just this once, she wouldn’t analyze or question or worry about getting hurt. She had waited a lifetime for this moment, and she meant to enjoy every delicious millisecond.
    “My name’s Hank Coulter,” he told her, his voice deep and raspy, yet oddly soft, like the sound of raw silk rubbed against the grain.
    “Carly Adams.”
    He bent his head toward hers. “Come again?” After she repeated her name, he said, “Glad to meet you, Charlie. Boy, howdy, am I ever glad.”
    “Carly,” she corrected.
    He nodded and smiled. Carly let it go at that. When the song ended, he would escort her back to her table, and she’d probably never see him again.
    He moved with an impressive grace for so large a man, lean muscle and bone working in a harmony of motion as he guided her through the steps, the tendons in his thighs bunching under the faded denim of his jeans, his lean hips shifting in time to the music. Before Carly knew quite how it happened, he had her twirling away from him, then shuffling back to spin on her toes under his arm.
    “Hoo-yah!” he said with a laugh after she executed a perfect swing step. He winked, hooked an arm around her waist, and drew her snuggly against his hard thigh to circle at a dizzying speed in a two-step shuffle. “Cut a rug, darlin’.”
    The press of his leg against the apex of her own made Carly’s heart leap, and her whole body felt as if it were humming. It was the strangest thing. Every part of her tingled, inside and out. When he suddenly moved away, sliding his big hand down her arm to grab her hand, he tipped his hat to her. Then he shuffled back, his intense blue eyes holding hers, his dark, chiseled features oddly taut.
    Sensory overload . All the instincts Carly had honed to sharpness as a blind person were still in fine working order, making her aware of him in every pore of her skin, and her eyes added visual delights she’d never before experienced. Having a man make love to her with his eyes. Seeing his broad shoulders dip toward her. Feeling the firm yet gentle grip of his big hands. His scent—a blend of musky maleness, woodsy cologne, leather, and sun-dried cotton—working on her olfactory nerves like an intoxicant.
    Much too soon to suit Carly, the music faded. She drew away from his embrace and smiled. “Thank you for asking me to dance. It was fun, after all.”
    He caught her hand, his