That First Meeting #MacKade #8sunday #wewriwa #romanticsuspense

This post is part of a blog hop. Follow this link for more snippets

We’re now with Rhett and Florence, hero and heroine from Painted Love.

Their first meeting was… meaningful. So I’ll share what happened to them when they set eyes on each other the first time.

We’ll start with Flo.

The chef nodded and after shaking his hand, her gaze briefly glanced to the other man. It should have been only an acknowledging nod but her brain hiccupped.
Powerless against that instinct, she looked at him. Saw only him in the ocean of people around them.

Eyes met, held. Reality muted, fractured, and rebuilt within the space of a blink. She swore his smile faltered as if that shake-up had hit him as hard, but he recovered. “I’m Rhett,” he said, shaking his head as to clear it. Then his voice steadied, his smile relaxed. “Rhett Beckett. We spoke a few minutes back?”

Nodding, she prayed her plastered smile didn’t look as stupid as she felt at the moment.

Rhett. A fitting name for someone with his looks. Tall and lean, agile but strong. A tanned face enhanced the blue of his eyes, dreamy in the way of the sea on a foggy morning. Black hair trimmed and combed had started to escape in an unruly mess. Full lips that curved into a boyish smile. Sweet God.

This man had a face made for poetry, a body for dirty nights, and a voice of velvety whiskey.
She needed to slow down her heartbeat, swooning in front of a stranger was not an option.

And here’s Rhett.

Rhett Andrew Beckett thought himself to be a pragmatic romantic. If his heart knew how to fly, he believed in strong foundations and a legacy that would go on and on. A family to build from the ground up, to cherish and nurture.

He also believed in love at first sight – with common sense and honesty. Meaning, he’d lived through a couple of bad ones and, when the initial blast had settled enough, he’d seen the misplaced feelings and rectified the situation.

Most of all, he loved love.

The closeness, the tenderness, the responsibilities and care for another’s feelings. After many mishaps he’d learned how to keep an eye on this foolish heart of his. It had given him a fair share of grief growing up, and experience taught him when to let it go free and when to shut it, when to use it and when timing was wrong. It had served him well and despite some scars, Rhett had dodged major heartaches.

Then, there was today. Defeating rules, ignoring good sense.

Florence Hastings.
Not beautiful, but interesting. Not sweet, but graceful with hash blond hair flowing in the breeze. A smile never going all the way through, compelling you to try to and set it free. Moody eyes, gray as steel one moment, soft as clouds the next, full of secrets and hurt.

God, he was a sucker for hurt women.

Keep an eye on the series because I’m reediting it, and it comes with new covers (and no link because I unpublished…). Painted Love’s one too!


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