New Way to Fly Read Online Free PDF Page B

Crystal Creek. If she could bring out the new winter outfits for Lynn McKinney on Wednesday, then she’d be able to…
    â€œMiss Walker?”
    Amanda smiled. “You’d better call me Amanda, if we’re going to be doing business together. I was just thinking about my week, Mary. Would Wednesday be good for you? Say about two o’clock?”
    Mary nodded, rummaging in her handbag. “That’dbe real nice. Just let me find a pen, and I’ll draw a map so you can find my place.”
    â€œNo problem,” Amanda said, waving her hand in dismissal. “I’ll be stopping off here and over at the Circle T. Someone can give me directions when I get there.”
    â€œOh, it’s real easy,” Mary said. “I’m just a few miles out on the other side of town, bordering Brock Munroe’s place.”
    â€œWhat’s this?” A cheerful male voice came from the other side of the archway, beyond Amanda’s line of vision. “Mary Gibson, are you talking about me behind my back?”
    Mary smiled and turned away to peer at the newcomer, who was still hidden from Amanda. “Hi, Brock,” she said. “My, don’t you look spiffy, all dressed up in a suit and tie.”
    â€œI feel like a trained monkey in this rig,” the man with the deep voice said, reflecting such rueful distaste that Amanda smiled and leaned around the archway to see what he looked like.
    At the same moment he stepped forward to allow a server past him, and faced Amanda head on. His mouth dropped open, his dark eyes widened, and he stood rooted to the spot, staring at her with such obvious amazement that her pale cheeks became a delicate pink.
    But she collected herself almost at once, gave the man a polite smile and calmly returned his gaze.
    He was certainly an arresting physical specimen, several inches taller than six feet with a rangy muscular look and an impressive breadth of chest and shoulders to balance his height. His face was tanned and clean-cut, his dark hair disheveled, his eyes warm and alert as he continued to stare at Amanda. When she smiled, he grinned back automatically, one side of his wide mouth lifting in an engaging lopsided grin that showed a flash of beautiful white teeth.
    Amanda always noticed people’s hands. This man’s hands were hard and brown, probably as callused on the palms as old leather, but they were beautifully shaped, with fine square palms and long fingers.
    Amanda looked back to the man’s shining dark eyes. She was beginning to feel uneasy. Apparently Mary Gibson was also becoming uncomfortable at the intensity with which the man was staring at Amanda.
    â€œBrock, this is Amanda Walker,” Mary said finally. “Amanda, Brock Munroe, my nearest neighbor. He has a ranch right next to mine.”
    The tall man broke his gaze with a visible effort and extended his hand. Amanda took it almost reluctantly and felt her own hand swallowed in his firm grip. Brock Munroe’s hand was just as steel-hard and strong as she’d expected. And she was distressed bythe sudden tingle of sexual excitement that shivered through her at his touch.
    â€œAmanda does clothes buying and TV commercials, things like that,” Mary explained.
    â€œI know,” the man said abruptly. “I’ve seen her on television.”
    He was staring again, as if trying to memorize every line and detail of Amanda’s face.
    Or, Amanda thought in warm confusion, as if they were already well-known to each other, lovers meeting again after a long, long separation…
    Mary smiled at them and began to edge away, murmuring something about helping Virginia with the buffet, but Brock and Amanda were so absorbed in their sudden and surprising contact that they hardly noticed her departure.
    â€œSo,” Brock said with that same abrupt tone, “what exactly is a personal shopping service, Amanda? What is it that you do for a