Derick (Delta Forces #3) - Elizabeth Lennox Page 0,10

legs look…hot!

The dress had obviously been purchased when she was a larger size, because the material floated around her body. But that didn’t matter. It made her appear almost ethereal as she crossed their lawns, the early evening sunshine glowing behind her. That backlit sun highlighted her figure, making the material of her dress almost translucent.

“Holy…!” he muttered to himself. “You’re going to be in pain by the end of this night.”

The beer thudded onto the bannister, the liquid inside foaming up and over the top in protest. But Derick didn’t notice. His eyes were glued to “Jolene”.

She’d done something with her hair. And she wore makeup. Not a lot, but enough that it highlighted her huge eyes and…brown eyes. Huh! He’d been so focused on other things that he hadn’t noticed that her eyes were a beautiful, rich, chocolate color that left him thinking about pouring warm chocolate all over her. Then licking it off.

Freckles, he realized when she came closer. She had cute, sexy freckles all over her nose and along her cheekbones. His eyes lifted, noticing her hair. There was something odd about her hair, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. But for some reason, he’d always associated freckles like hers with redheads.

“Am I late?” she asked.

Derick could barely breathe, much less respond. His lust was disrupting his thoughts. He must have shaken his head, because she smiled up at him.

Lashes. Her lashes weren’t dark like her hair, he realized. She’d added a touch of lipstick…well, more like tinted lip-gloss, and he wasn’t sure if she was blushing or if she’d added some color to her cheeks. But whatever, it looked really nice! But her lashes were…they seemed a different color. It was hard to tell since her beautiful, chocolate eyes kept drawing him in. But yeah, there was something off about her lashes. And eyebrows?

Hell, what did he know about women’s makeup tricks? He appreciated every damn thing that a woman did to herself, but telling the difference between real and illusion…he was clueless. In the past, if a woman had been willing, and he was interested, he hadn’t much cared what was real and what wasn’t.

So why was it so important to him with “Jolene”?

Because he knew that “Jolene” wasn’t her name. And now he knew that…hell, her lashes should be brown. Yeah, that was the issue. Her eyebrows and eyelashes were the wrong color. A woman with dark hair would normally have dark lashes and dark eyebrows. But “Jolene” had light lashes and her eyebrows were barely visible.

Blonde. “Jolene” was a blond! Hell, why would anyone color her hair dark when she was a natural blonde? That made no sense.

Just another piece of the puzzle, he told himself.

Pulling himself together, he pushed away from the porch railing, remembering his manners. “Would you like a beer? Or wine? I have some wine.”

“Jolene” looked around him and spotted the beer on the railing. “A cold beer sounds great right about now.”

He nodded, then moved around her to retrieve two more beers. The one on the railing was mysteriously empty. He must have finished it off while watching her walk towards him. Derick was pretty sure that he’d never forget that moment. Never!

“It’s still pretty hot out here. Why don’t we go inside?”

She nodded and followed him into the kitchen. He reached into the fridge and pulled out two beers, twisting the tops off each before handing one to her. “Would you like a glass?” he asked, trying to remember the small things that women preferred. It had been a hell of a long time since he’d tried to impress a woman.

“This is fine,” she said, then took a long drink. Derick watched, more turned on by the minute. He should look away, but hell, a woman drinking beer was…hot! That word just kept popping into his mind.

“I put some cheese and crackers out. Help yourself,” he told her.

She sat at the counter, perching herself on the stool while admiring his kitchen. “Your house is lovely. Did you do most of the work yourself?”

“Yeah,” he replied, turning on the heat to boil the water. “I like working with my hands.”

Those words hung in the air around them, the tension increasing. Carrie watched him, wondering what his hands would feel like. After working with him today, she knew that his hands were callused, rough. But strong and capable. Tender even.

“The…” she cleared her throat. “The cabinets are new. Were the old ones too far gone to save?”

He