I'm adding to the treasure at the TRS Treasure Hunt! One commenter on my blog will win a PDF of my contemporary romance, Design for Life. Be sure to stop back here on Monday to leave your comment, and hunt down the clues for the other participating authors - check the TRS page for the list.
Here's a different excerpt:
With the lone guitarist on the tiny corner stage, and every table filled once Becca and Mike took the last one, The Tin Cup bustled with noise. She didn’t mind, since they had to lean their heads close to talk. Smelling the tangy coffee on his breath made her want to taste him again.
The brilliance of his smile, the sparkle in his umber eyes grew more vivid at close range. “Tell me something.”
“What?” Being this close to him made her so lightheaded, she’d tell him anything.
With a mischievous grin, he narrowed his eyes. “What secrets lurk in that humungous handbag? A body, maybe?”
“No.” She laughed. “Only two-dimensional figures.”
He arched his brows. “Your sketches? Let’s see.”
“Oh, I—” Other than her teacher at art school, she’d only shown a few people. Her mom. The Flower Basket ladies. Her best friend. Showing him the sketches was like baring her soul. If he hated them, she’d be crushed.
“Come on, show me.”
The warmth in his tone reassured her. With a steadying breath, she pulled the sketch book from the handbag. After wiping a coffee smudge from the table, she laid the pad between them. “They’re very rough.”
Flipping slowly through page by page, he shook his head. “These aren’t rough. These are professional quality. Weren’t you working on something like this in high school?”
Something inside her dissolved, some barrier of nagging questions. No longer did the inner voice warn her she shouldn’t be here, that next Thursday night, when class convened, they’d be back to teacher and student.
“You remembered.” The amazement she felt resounded in her voice.
His gaze skipped from the sketch pad to hers, searching. “A lot of things. The way you slung your backpack over your shoulder like you were going mountain climbing or something. How your auburn hair caught the sunlight and swayed as you moved.” He closed the pad, placed it on the floor against the wall and leaned closer. “The curve of your hips.”
Her nerves tingled in excitement. She smiled, her hand light on his sleeve, itching to explore. “You do have a good eye for detail.”
Grinning, he laced his fingers in hers. “The curse of an artist, as you well know.” He glanced out the window and smiled. “Nice night for a walk, don’t you think?”
“Yes, the stars are lovely.” Not as lovely as the light in his deep brown eyes.
His gaze fell to her lips. “And quiet. Shall we?”
