He pointed to the car. “Tell me about her.”
Without hesitation, Val said, “It’s a 1963 356 series. Series C, to be exact.”
Nate’s eyebrows were about to push into the hair on top of his head and his lower torso region was rapidly heating as he listened to her smooth voice.
“Pushrod engine, less than twenty thousand made. The flat-faced hubcaps distinguish them from the original 356 series, as does the larger coupe light.”
“I’m impressed.” That’s the sexiest thing a woman has ever said to me. Smart, beautiful, and she knows classic cars. A lethal combination, at least for him, so it would seem. He leaned over her, pressing into her personal space just a little. She didn’t back down and his groin stirred further. Val might be a very dangerous distraction. Fortunately he was an adrenaline junkie. Nate pulled the passenger door open. “Get in.” His voice came out rough and husky and he could swear he saw those amazing eyes darken for a moment.
Why was that important to write? Because that little vignette establishes my heroine as different from the women my hero usually meets in his line of work, who tend to be rather vapid. He’s instantly intrigued, and the sexual tension really starts to ramp up from there.
All because of a classic car and my hero being afraid of flying.
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She thinks the best part of being a writer is how she writes about love and sex while most others struggle with daily commutes, micro-managing bosses and cranky co-workers. Her inspiration comes from everywhere, but she’d particularly like to thank the Buffalo Sabres, the hockey team near and dear to her heart.