Tempest in Eden
Sandra Brown
Language: English
Pages: 256
ISBN: 0446364312
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
This novel follows the growing relationship between Shay Morrison, a nude model for artists, and Ian Douglas, a conservative minister who disapproves of her lifestyle but cannot resist her.
on a roulette wheel before finally coming to rest. John stared at his son in mute surprise. Celia blinked rapidly in disbelief. Shay's head came around quickly to look at Ian with dismay. She didn't know which had surprised her the most, his forthright confession or his choice of words. He turned to face her, and their eyes collided. To the further puzzlement of their parents, they both burst out laughing. Their laughter may have dispelled the immediate animosity between them, but it did
her halter top, before he dropped his eyes once again to the infernal paperclip. “John had caught three when I left. Mom's still working on a bite.” “Good, good,” he said in a voice that told her he didn't care any more about the results of the fishing expedition that she did. “Do you need the bathroom?” she asked, stretching her arms lazily over her head. “Uh…no,” he said. “No.” “I'm going to take a nice long bubble bath before dinner.” She dropped her arms and shook her body as though in
inexpensive works of art, decorating items, things like that.” “In Manhattan?” “No, in Woodville. When I have to go to the city, I drive to Greenwich and take the train. But that's only once or twice a week.” “Once or twice a week? What takes you to New York once or twice a week?” “I—” She was cut off by the loud blaring of an automobile horn. They turned simultaneously to see a Mercedes sedan coming to a stop beside Ian's station wagon. As Shay watched, a silver-haired man got out of the
pea green? The rooms should be bright and cheerful. They should have a bulletin board, pictures on the wall, bean-bag chairs, learning aids—” “Shay,” he said, laying a restraining hand on her arm, “don't you think I'm aware of that? The people who work with the children also know that. But those things cost money. It's not in the church budget this year.” “Money? Is that all?” she said blithely. “Then leave that to me. I'll get the money.” “Shay,” he said threateningly, scowling, “what are you
violation. A welcome marauder, it probed and stroked, rapidly one moment, slowly the next, in ever-changing tempos that captivated her senses. “Let's go to bed,” he said, when at last he sacrificed the nectar of her mouth for the warm, scented skin of her neck. “What about dinner?” she queried weakly. “Later.” He carried her up the stairs, their eyes telegraphing a thousand messages of love. They undressed each other with a titillating leisure, watching each other, devouring each other with