Hello, and a warm welcome back to Week 75 of My Sexy Saturday. Today’s theme is all about those unconsciously sexy characters who can heat up a scene without even thinking about it. I’m sharing not-quite-seven paragraphs from Red Skye at Night, due to be released on 6 February.
Hope is a taxi driver picking up fares at the airport. And one particular passenger has caught her eye…
The cars roll forward a few yards and it’s time to hop back aboard. I slide into the driver’s seat and start my engine. We’re on the move. I edge forward, watching as groups of passengers lean into the drivers’ cabs before slinging their piles of luggage and duty frees into the boot and scrambling into the rear seats. Occasionally a front seat is required, but in my experience, fares generally prefer to keep themselves to themselves in the back. It’s a good habit, if you ask me. It suits me just fine.
I notice a man strolling alongside my car as the queue dematerialises and can tell at a glance that he looks way too attractive for my liking and way too formal to be even remotely connected to Majorca. Dusseldorf. Definitely.
He’s tall, with dark hair, short at the sides, long on top and brushed back. His tailored jacket and smart trousers look expensive. He’s wearing proper shoes too—black leather, very shiny. He looks to be not much older than me—perhaps late twenties, early thirties at the most—and as sexy as they come. No way is he returning from holiday. He looks more suited to a meeting with his bank manager, or maybe he’s kitted out for a court appearance. He has a small black suitcase, on wheels, which he tows easily behind him as he passes my taxi. His phone is in his hand and he’s studying the screen intently.
The queue stops and I crawl on, passing the now stationary man. I take the opportunity to peer up at him as I pass—no harm in looking, after all—at the exact moment he loses interest in his phone. He glances across, straight at me.
Shit! I drop my gaze immediately, embarrassed to be caught ogling. Christ, what was I thinking? It’s not even as though I’m overly fond of men, except in a purely functional sense. I like them well enough on the television or in films, but here in real life I generally manage to avoid them for the most part. The occasional tumble across the mattress with a randy student after a night out in Leeds is okay, but not something to get terribly excited about—not in my experience. And I don’t much like clearing up afterwards. If children and drunks seem messy, how much more chaos could Mr Sex On Legs cause? My upholstery was never designed for the likes of him.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this first glimpse of Harry McLeod. If you want to inspect him a little more closely you can get your hands on him, sorry, the book, on early download from Totally Bound.
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