Timeless Excerpt 3

Timeless will be available in print in a couple of weeks. It's a big book 610 pages.

Regan studied the two women from Ireland. They had naturally gravitated toward one another, both being from the Green Isle. As they greeted the rest of the group, their brogue fell on the ear with a softer music, but no less rich a cadence than the Scots one flying about the room. Regan nodded a greeting and glanced toward the small stage where the high clear notes of a flute captured her attention.

Surprised, her brows rose as she recognized Quinn Douglas. With his lids partially lowered over his green gaze and his lips pursed to blow into the instrument, there was a singular concentration on his face that brought a flutter to the pit of her stomach. A scruffy five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw and chin. His collar lay open leaving a dusting of dark chest hair visible along his collarbone. There was a raw, dark sexuality about the man that triggered an innate response inside her. Every time she looked at him, she felt hot and needy.

Was it only the lingering effects of the dream? Vision. How could she have dreamed about a man she had yet to meet? Having been intent on just surviving the afternoon before, her feelings had been pushed aside as the experience unfolded. Now, after having time to think about it, analyze it, her hands grew clammy, and her heart raced every time she allowed her mind to even tap the subject.

Was she growing as delusional as her real mother?  The drugs she’d been addicted to had caused her ranting and raving. Hadn’t it?

But what if the next time she physically touched the stones, something similar happened? What if it hadn’t been a dream? The idea clogged her throat with anxiety making it hard for her to breathe.

She was a scientist. It couldn’t be real. She’d had nitrogen induced hallucination. Her depth could have created the conditions conducive to the situation, or her gas mix may have been off. That’s all it had been. It had to be.

Applause drew her back to the present. Sheary nudged her arm and Regan turned her head to see the girl’s hazel eyes squinting with laughter. “Has the sight of all that manly muscle toying with his instrument put you into a sexual fantasy induced coma, Regan?”

She blinked and her eyes traveled from Sheary’s wide smile back to the stage, where Quinn was putting aside his flute, in a long case and joining his brothers at a table close by. The rest of the musicians, a trio with fiddle, keyboard, and guitar started another song. Lord, had she been staring at Quinn all this time?

“Actually, I believe between the three of them, there’s enough testosterone there to put us all under.” Helen winked at her. “Even the brother grim has something worthy of a few heart palpitations.”

“The brother grim?” Regan asked.

She leaned her arms on the table flashing a small bit of cleavage. “The oldest. Quinn. I’ve been here three days and never seen him smile. He’s always serious and all business. Now the two younger ones are open to a bit of fun. They bought us drinks the first night we arrived here.”

Regan folded a napkin to act as a coaster, salted it, and slid it beneath her glass. He had smiled at her that first morning they had spent together. And been angry and biting, as well. “Logan and Rob do seem a little more laid back.” But not much of a challenge. Regan shook her head at the thought. Since when had she needed any more challenges in her life than she already had? 

Hope you enjoyed the excerpt.  I'd love to hear your comments.

Teresa Reasor