Personal Relations. HEATHER MACALLISTER
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“Right. Heads, not hormones.”
“Exactly.”
When he sat, he pulled the chair closer to hers so he could write at the table.
Heads, not hormones. Heads, not hormones.
Hormones were tricky little devils. Up until now, Brooke had simply had to put them in deep-freeze storage until it was safe to thaw them out. Actually, she was looking forward to the thawing—after Courtney left for school.
As Brooke picked up her pen, she couldn’t help noticing that Chase’s knee was a fraction of an inch away from her own. It was close enough that she could feel the heat from his leg. Heat. She swallowed. Heat could be bad.
“We need a plan.” He flashed her a grin. “Preferably the same one.”
“Yes, a plan,” she echoed brilliantly. But really, how was she supposed to think with him sitting so close and acting like a take-charge male?
She hadn’t even known she liked a take-charge kind of guy. She’d always thought there wasn’t a lot of difference between the take-charge type and a bully. “So have you got any ideas?” she asked hoping that he wouldn’t notice that she’d been staring at him.
“Bribery?”
“Chase, your brother drives a Porsche. What’s left for you to bribe him with?”
“Good point.” He starting tracing circles—perfect circles—on the paper.
Brooke watched his fingers and the way they held the brushed silver pen. He had nice hands. Nice fingers. Fingers that kept going around and around and around….
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