Echoes in the Wind Read Free

lose control here. She needed to say something and leave. But the strange pattern on the fabric of her rescuer’s shirt grabbed her attention.
    She tipped her head slightly and frowned. She stared harder, blinking several times. What th… A loud gasp escaped as she slapped a palm over her mouth. This night kept getting better. Darla lowered her hand and gaped at the pink tinge sprayed across the Raging Impulse lead guitarist’s chest.
    “That’s not good.” He pointed and wiggled a finger over the scattered glass, apparently unperturbed she’d ruined his shirt. “What were you drinking? I’ll get you another.”
    Darla stared, speechless. The inflections of his strong accent made him difficult to understand yet the mere sound of his voice caused her heart to almost stop. It was rich, deep, laced with enough of a rasp to carry a trace of seductiveness. The kind of voice that could convince a woman to do practically anything.
    “What were you drinking?” he asked again. A long moment passed. Those disturbing cobalt eyes continued to study her. “Are you okay?”
    Darla gulped. She was fine except her mind experienced a complete meltdown. Her heart beat in triple time, and she couldn’t catch her breath. And she appeared to have lost the ability to speak. But yeah, she was okay.
    “Wine,” she blurted. “White Zinfandel.” Surprised she’d almost found her wits, she paused and made an awkward gesture over the fresh stain on his shirt. “I don’t know what happened. Um, I got…you were there, it…” Her arm dropped, and she released a heavy sigh. “The glass slipped out of my hand.”
    A slight curve formed across his lips as a wicked twinkle entered his eyes. “I noticed.”
    He moved to the bar, leaving her to fume over her inelegance. Could she be any smoother? She barely spit out a word, forget about completing a sentence. She came off better mute. Twisting a curl around her finger, she remained in place staring at him.
    Like a magnet to steel his gaze connected with hers. A rush of inner heat pulsated and scorched her entire body. The warmth stretched to the outer edges and spread a crimson flush over her skin. Her tongue crossed over her parched lips as she tore her eyes away.
    Stupid hormones. They didn’t just betray her. They’d stepped outside her to do a happy dance.
    She supposed she should give herself a break. The man sizzled hot. Was his thick brogue Scottish or Irish?
    Darla stopped. She needed to get some control over these out of control sensations before she sank to below zero on her shame-o-meter. To divert her attention from him, she stooped to pick up the larger shards of glass scattered across the floor. She still needed something to mop up the liquid. Maybe the guy would let her use his shirt again.
    Darla waved an arm to get his attention, then elevated her voice above the chatter. “Please ask the bartender for a towel or something so I can wipe up the spill.”
    Much better. She, an educated, self-sufficient woman contained her emotions. She didn’t have meltdowns over former teen idols. A white dishtowel spiraled and dangled in front of her face. She snatched the cloth.
    He squatted next to her and held out a dustpan with a nod toward the scoop. “Put the glass in here.”
    With a whiskbroom, he swept up the remaining broken pieces while Darla dabbed up the wine. Once clean, he took the wet towel from her and walked back to the bar. Within minutes he returned with her new glass along with a drink for him.
    “Thank you.” She grasped the goblet and looked up at him. Her mouth went dry. Too busy admiring his other delectable qualities she’d missed how he towered over her. Though not a giant by any means, the way he carried himself made him seem even taller than he actually was. “And thanks for catching me. I’m, I’m sorry about your shirt.”
    Could she not spit out a simple sentence? Okay, so the wet material clung to his chest outlining a pair of broad shoulders