Sleeping Beauty Read Free

from the sun, she hadn't seen him yet, and he was in no hurry to make his presence known. Leaning against the cluttered workbench, Neill admired the view. She wasn't very big—not much over five feet—but she was very nicely packaged. The short, flippy skirt of the sundress revealed lightly tanned legs—delightfully long legs for such a small woman—and the rest of her was just as appealing. She had the kind of figure that had been fashionable back in the fifties— a little too full in bust and hip for the current fashion, with a narrow waist that emphasized the curves. If she was like most women he knew, she probably thought she needed to lose ten pounds, but, as far as he was concerned, she looked just about right—soft and supple and very, very female.
    And it's obviously been way too long since you spent time in the real world, Devlin. Neill shifted, uncomfortably aware that his jeans were suddenly tighter than they had been. He was a couple of decades past the age when just looking at a pretty woman was enough to get him hard. Then again, he'd spent most of the last year buried in research, and for the past six months the closest he'd come to a carnal relationship was biting into a hot pizza.
    She walked over to the scruffy VW Bug, the hem of the flowered dress swinging gently against her legs. As she leaned over to peer uncertainly into the engine compartment, the thin cotton draped lovingly around the soft curves of her bottom and Neill choked on a mouthful of cola.
    Startled, Anne jerked upright and spun toward the sound, one hand pressed to her suddenly thumping heart, her eyes searching the dimly lit garage. Someone was straightening away from the workbench, moving toward her—a man, a stranger.
    The realization made her skin ice over and filled her throat with the acid taste of old fear.
    "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." The rueful apology stopped her convulsive move toward the door and escape. She drew a shallow breath, struggling for control as he came closer. '1 guess you didn't see me," he said, stopping a few feet away and smiling at her.
    Black T-shirt, snug faded denims, worn black boots and thick, dark hair the color of midnight. It was the hunk, she realized, the man she and Lisa had been shamelessly ogling just a few minutes ago. Anne breathed more deeply, feeling irritation replace the momentary panic. She'd thought she was past reacting like that, years past it. Yet here she was, bolting like a silly little rabbit just because she happened to be momentarily alone with a strange man. And it wasn't even as if they were really alone, she thought, hating the fear that had her glancing toward the office.
    "David got a call a few minutes ago," Neill said, seeing the direction of her glance. He kept a careful distance between them and made his voice low and soft. He didn't want to do anything to bring back the sharp look of fear that had turned her gray eyes almost black. Such pretty eyes, he thought. She was pretty, like the girl on an old-fashioned box of candy. Big gray eyes, the kind of skin that could only be called peaches and cream, hair the color of pale honey, a short straight little nose and a soft bow of a mouth, the lower lip just a little fuller than the upper, the kind of mouth that made a man want to taste that faint hint of a pout. As a general rule, his taste ran to tall, leggy brunettes, but he was willing to concede that his focus might have been a little too narrow in the past. There was definitely something to be said for short, curvy blondes.
    "Your car?" he asked, nodding to the Bug.
    "Yes. She's in for a tune-up."
    "She?" Neill deliberately made his grin puppy-dog friendly. "What's her name?"
    "Lucy," Anne said automatically and then flushed, bracing for laughter. Not everyone understood the impulse to name a car.
    "Some cars just seem to require a name, don't they?" His smile widened in friendly amusement. "My older sister had a thousand-year-old Volvo sedan named Morris