Cover art by Shannon Patterson

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 Work in progress:

                                         Danielle's Touch/Lisa Alexander Griffin

                                                    CHAPTER 1

     "This can’t be right."

     Ethan gazed at the dilapidated sign that advertised decorator services, then to the peeling paint on the doors. Danielle’s Touch had seen better days.

     Damn. He’d spent half a day scouring the yellow pages. His hands were full at the ranch, his time limited. He had no inclination to travel into Augusta. This was it. He grunted, wiped sweat from his brow with his shirtsleeve and entered the shop.

     Florescent lights flickered. The walls needed fresh paint. Bookshelves, their contents sparse, lined one wall. He’d heard nothing but glowing recommendations from the townsfolk. I must be out of my mind.

    Ethan cleared his throat and rapped an impatient tattoo on the counter. He turned to leave and movement in the back of the semi-dark room caught his eye.

    Whoa! His steps faltered mid-stride. A woman, curvaceous and sexy as hell, stood just inside a rear doorway. She paused next to a window, her smile, bright and instantaneous. Dim rays of sunlight caressed her auburn hair. Ethan’s blood hummed. A heart he’d long since considered dead thudded in his chest.

    "May I help you, sir?"

    Her sultry voice stirred a hunger inside him and heated his blood. Brushing invisible dust from his sleeve he looked into her gold-flecked eyes. "Hope I’m in the right place. Is this really a decorating business?"

    Her eyes brightened. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes, it is. Do you have need for a decorator?"

    "I recently purchased an old Victorian. It needs a bit of sprucing up. Paint and paper, I think. But I don’t know much about that sort of thing. That’s why I’m here. Thought maybe a decorator could help me sort it out." He plucked the Stetson from his head, scanned the room and edged toward the door. "But if he’s not in, I’ll come back later."

    "Wait!" She held up a hand and smiled. "You’re looking at him. Tell me what you need. I’m sure I can help." Her rigid stance eased, her arm dropped. "Welcome to Danielle’s Touch."

    Ethan winced inwardly, his body on full alert. Her voice pulled him like a magnet. Nerves strung tight, he raked a hand through his hair and slapped the Stetson against his thigh. "I’d need an estimate first. Could you possibly come by and do that?"

    Her lips formed a cool smile. "Are you sure? As you can see I’m not the he you expected."

    He scanned her from head to toe. "That’s obvious, and yes ma’am, I am. Sorry. I just assumed a man ran the place." He coughed and dropped his gaze.

    "Hold on and I’ll be right with you."

    She walked to the back room, the sway of her hips, provocative. Ethan tapped the Formica surface and diverted his gaze. She returned with her appointment book and flipped it open on the worn countertop. Ethan moved closer. A light scent of jasmine invaded his nostrils. His body responded. God, this couldn’t be a good idea.

    She glanced up and covered the client roster with her hands. "As a matter of fact, err…if it’s convenient I can swing by tomorrow and take a look."

    "Thanks, I'd appreciate it, Ms...?" He held out his hand and gave her his best smile. "I didn’t catch your name."

    Hesitant, she placed her hand in his. "Danielle Courtland." Her eyes darkened, her hand trembled. She lowered her gaze to his lips, moistened her own with the tip of her tongue and tugged her hand free.

    "Where’s this house located?"

    Ethan shoved his hands deep in his pockets to keep from moving closer. "Out past Silver Bluff. I’ll give you directions."

    She jotted them down in her appointment book. His heartbeat quickened as she scribbled on the back of a business card and handed it to him. The hypnotic amber of her eyes...he gave himself a mental shake. Why on earth would her phone number in his pocket excite him? He had no intention of calling her.

    "If that’s it and all is agreeable, I'll see you around seven a.m.—unless that’s too early."

    Ethan itched to touch her cheek and test the silk of her skin. He flexed his fingers, replaced his Stetson and moved toward the door. "That's about it, I believe, and seven is fine. By the way, I’m McCord. Ethan McCord." He tugged the door open and the bell jingled. He smiled and stepped outside.

To be continued...