Christine Scott - Storming Whitehorn

A slow smile stole across her beautiful, exotic face. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, my dear Jasmine, that you are just a child,” he said, keeping his voice smooth and silky, like a caress. “And I am a man of many, many experiences. The kiss that we shared was nothing compared to the things I know to please a woman. And you, little one, are nowhere near ready to handle what I can do for you.”

The smile faded. Her lips parted in a silent gasp of surprise. She looked…stunned.

Satisfied, Storm rose to his feet. Tipping his hand in mock salute, he turned and left, not daring to glance back at the woman he was leaving behind, lest he changed his mind.

Her mouth still drooping in surprise, Jasmine stared after Storm’s departing figure. He moved through the crowded restaurant with the primal grace of a predator. With his wide shoulders and narrow hips, he reminded her of a sleek mountain cat, coiled and ready to spring into attack.

Suddenly the room felt as though the heat had been cranked up by at least twenty degrees. Feeling flushed, on a shaky breath, she murmured, “Oh, my.”

The waitress chose that moment to return. She glanced at Storm’s empty chair. “What happened to tall, dark and in-a-hurry?”

Jasmine’s face warmed with embarrassment. “He had to leave.”

“What am I supposed to do with his credit card?” She held up the gold card for Jasmine’s inspection. Its shiny surface glittered beneath the muted lights of the restaurant.

The slow smile returned. Jasmine told herself he may be cool and collected on the outside, but Storm Hunter wasn’t as in control of his emotions as he’d like for her to believe. She held out a hand for the forgotten card. “I’ll take that.”

The waitress frowned, looking uncertain. “I don’t know. The restaurant policy is—”

“Mr. Hunter and I are close friends, practically family,” she assured her, giving the woman what she hoped was a most sincere look. “His niece is my cousin.”

“Family, huh?” the waitress asked, her gaze skeptical.

Jasmine nodded. “Family.”

“Well, okay.” Reluctantly, she handed Jasmine the card. “The bill’s still going on his account, with or without his signature.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that. Just as soon as I see him again.”

Anxious to leave, Jasmine scooted her chair back. Her legs felt wobbly as she stood. The sound of her heart pounded so hard in her ears, she could barely hear the voices of the restaurant patrons around her. Gathering her sweater, she hurried for the exit.

Storm was a man who obviously had pressing things weighing on his mind, proof of which was resting in her hand. She hadn’t bought his Casanova routine. Beneath that cool exterior, she sensed there was a man with deep emotions just waiting to be tapped.

It was time she found out if she was right.

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