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Her light-colored hazel eyes were framed by deep auburn lashes and brows. She had a strong dusting of the cutest freckles across her upper cheeks and nose. She had wavy thick long hair corralled in a long French braid down her back that I could see underneath her baker’s hairnet.
She was lean but curvy, lithe, quite deliciously buxom, and nearly as tall as me. Dressed in chef’s garb and Frye boots.
She took my breath away!
I'll never be sure what I said to her. But I heard her say with surprise, “Mr. Peterson?”
She remembered my name!
I would never, ever forget hers.
Samantha Billings
Iwould know that resonant deep, deep bass voice anywhere! Not only was it unlike any other man’s voice on the planet, I heard it on the phone enough to never forget it.
But what the hell was Mr. Peterson doing backhere?
As he stood and turned around to face me, all the air was sucked out of the room. The planets stopped their rotation. I held my breath. My heart was beating out of my chest.
I stood staring. I don't think I could have moved if my life depended on it.
Mr. Peterson floated toward me with his hands out and took both of mine in his.
I'm not sure what I said. My eyes were riveted on his face.
He was younger than I thought. His voice had me imagining a guy with a head of salt-and-pepper hair.
He was so handsome that all I could see was his deep-set big brown eyes. His thick, nearly black hair cropped close to his shapely scalp. Lean body—and oh, that booty! His broad shoulders. And oh my gosh, a mouth shaped for kissing all night.
I shook myself. To no avail. For all I knew, I might have levitated. I feltthatweightless.
He was saying something like, “Sorry for just barging in. I just love to fix things. Oh, sorry. I'm Leighton Peterson. I know you're Samantha because I’d recognize your voice anywhere.”
I didn't see Amy leaning one shoulder against the door jam, watching us with a smirk on her face.
Leighton
Wow.
I was so taken by her that I couldn't resist: I had to stay longer with her.
Any memory of what my work schedule might be was gone. Any memory I even had a job somewhere else had left me. I was dumbstruck.
So? I insisted on helping her test the fryer's repair.
“Where do you keep your oil? Let's load up the deep fryer and see if my repair worked for you.”
Samantha sort of floated to the other side of the room and it was as though I was on an invisible tendril of light, forced to follow close behind her.
I couldn’t not follow her.
She started lifting what looked like a five-gallon metal jug of oil.
“Let me. I've got this.”
The whole time I was watching her and speaking to her …And what was I saying to her? No clue. No memory of my words…my eyes were glued to her face. Her forms. My ears heard only the music of her voice.
The fryer heated up to the right temperature.
