What a Westmoreland Wants - By Brenda Jackson Page 0,23
Jet lag I think.”
“Probably is. Go ahead and rest your eyes for a while.”
Gemma took him up on his offer and closed her eyes for a moment. Callum was right, the reason she wanted to rest had to do with jet lag. She would probably feel this way until she adjusted to the change in time zone.
She tried to clear her mind of any thoughts, but found it impossible to do when she was drawn back to the time she had spent at Callum’s parents’ home. What she’d told him was true. She had enjoyed herself and thought his family was wonderful. They reminded her of her siblings.
She was close to her siblings and cousins, and they teased each other a lot. She’d picked up on the love between Callum and his siblings. He was the youngest and it was obvious that they cared deeply about him and were protective of him.
More than once, while talking to Callum’s mom, she had felt his eyes on her and had glanced across the room to have her gaze snagged by his. Had she imagined it or had she seen male interest lurking in their green depths?
There had been times when the perfection of Callum’s features had nearly stopped her in her tracks and she found herself at several standstills today. Both of his brothers were handsome, but in her book, Callum was gorgeous, and was even more so for some reason today. She could understand the likes of Meredith trying to come on to him. Back in Denver on the ranch, he exuded the air of a hardworking roughneck, but here in Sydney, dressed in a pair of slacks and a dress shirt and driving a sports car, he passed the test as the hot, sexy and sophisticated man that he was. If only all those women back in Denver could see him now.
She slowly opened her eyes and studied his profile over semi-lowered lashes as he drove the car. Sitting in a perfect posture, he radiated the kind of a strength most men couldn’t fabricate, even on their best days. His hair appeared chestnut in color in the evening light and hung around his shoulders in fluid waves.
There was something about him that infused a degree of warmth all through her. Why hadn’t she felt it before? Maybe she had, but had forced herself to ignore it. And then there was the difference in their ages. He was ten years her senior. The thought of dating a man in close proximity to her age was bad enough; to consider one older, she’d thought, would be asking for trouble, definitely way out of her league.
Her gaze moved to his hands. She recalled on more than one occasion seeing those hands that were now gripping the steering wheel handle the sheep on her brother’s ranch. There was an innate strength about them that extended all the way to his clean and short fingernails.
According to Megan, you could tell a lot about a man by his hands. That might be true, but Gemma didn’t have a clue what she should be looking for. It was at times like this that her innocence bothered her. For once—maybe twice—she wouldn’t mind knowing how it felt to get lost in the depth of a male’s embrace, kissed by him in a way that could curl her toes and shoot sparks of pleasure all threw her. She wanted to be made love to by a man who knew what he was doing. A man who would make her first time special, something she would remember for the rest of her life and not forget when the encounter was over.
She closed her eyes again and remembered that moment on the plane when Callum had awakened and found her there, close to his face and staring at him. She remembered how he had stared back, how she had actually felt a degree of lust she hadn’t thought she could feel and a swell of desire that had nearly shaken her to the core. She had felt mesmerized by his gaze, had felt frozen in a trance, and the only thing that would break it would be a kiss. And they had come seconds, inches from sharing one.
She knew it would have to be one of those kisses she’d always dreamed of sharing with a man. The kind that for some reason she believed only Callum Austell could deliver. Yes, the mind-blowing, toe-curling kind. A ripple of excitement sent shivers up