For the Love of Jazz
Chapter One
There in his drive sat a shiny, little Mustang convertible, fire-engine red, the
ragtop down. Perched on the hood was Anne-Marie Kincade. One look at her hit him
like a punch right in the solar plexus and all thoughts of Sheri faded away,
lost in the fog of need that took over as he stared at Anne-Marie.
Her thick, black hair was falling around her shoulders, shoulders left bare by a
simple, white camisole-styled top. Long legs were revealed by a pair of neatly
cuffed, black shorts and her small feet were shod in a simple pair of canvas
tennis shoes.
She didn't look like a doctor; nope, she looked like a high school coed, too
young and too damn innocent. Until she turned her head and met his eyes. The
look in those misty, green eyes was pure woman and Jazz could literally feel it
as the blood drained out of his head, straight down to his cock.
His breath caught in his chest as her gaze locked with his, a small, mysterious
smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Sweet God, how had she grown up to be
so beautiful?
A soft breeze fluttered her hair around her face ... read full excerpt from: For the Love of Jazz ebook
