“Uh—Marek?”

            He turned, his eyes sweeping over her, taking in the thick, white towel fastened, sarong style, over her slender curves, and she felt her heartbeat increase again, sending tension along every single nerve. Cut this out. This is nothing but pure, potent sexuality. Which was difficult enough at the best of times.

            “Yes?”

            “I don’t have a nightgown, pajamas, anything.” If anything sounded like provocation, that sure did. He must think she was coming on strong. A frustrated old thing creeping out of the shrubbery. She felt the embarrassed blush as it crept into her cheeks. “I mean, I just threw things into my bag. I had less than an hour before getting back out to the airport in Germany.”

            “Pakistan. Germany.” His lips twitched. “Mars? Jupiter?”

            Her chin tilted defiantly. “That sounds like criticism.”

            His face softened, as if the defiance had touched him. “That’s the Felicity I know. Exhausted, coming from places that I only read about, you’re still ready for a fight.”

 “I don’t mean to sound like a crank.”

 “Did I say you did?”

 Why was she arguing? She only wished he would cross the room, pull back the towel covering her still damp body, run his hands over her skin, taste her. “Sorry.”

            “You really have changed from the old days.” His eyes glinted humorously.

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” She shot suspicion back at him again.

            “Not having a nightgown. Since when did that ever bother you?”

            “Why I—” She stopped, confused, then saw he was laughing. Of course. The old Felicity would never have worried about anything so prudish. Not with Marek. She’d wanted him, had set out to get him, had made all the moves—and suffered the rejections when they came. This was old, familiar territory. Well, it wasn’t going to happen that way now! He was going to have to make the proposals. She could wait.

            “Fine.” She shrugged. “Just warning you.” She headed for the bed, too conscious of his eyes as they followed her, too conscious of questions left hanging in the air.

             Now what? Did she whip off the towel, stand there in front of him naked, exposed to his rejection? What was he going to think about her forty-years-older body?

            She glanced up, almost fearfully, and saw he’d politely turned away. Being polite. Yes, that was Marek, all right. Tactfully trying not to let it show he didn’t want her, not really.

 

Felicity's Power

 

San Francisco, 1971: hippies in the streets, music and revolution in the air. The evening Marek Sumner opened his door to the wild-looking Felicity Powers, he knew nothing would ever be the same. But even love and passion couldn’t keep them together.
   Forty-three years later, having lived in the world’s most dangerous places as an aid worker, Felicity is back, still offering love, passion, and adventure. Now a well-known author, Marek loves his calm life in an isolated farmhouse, and he knows their relationship would never work : he and Felicity are just too different. Besides, why risk having his heart broken a second time?
   But Felicity is as fascinating and joyful as ever, and the wonderful sexy magic is still there too. Can love be more delightful the second time around?
 

Purchase links: https://www.thewildrosepress.com/books/felicitys-power

Teaser: http://j-arleneculiner.com/page-2-book3-felicity3-video.html

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