If he had known the jolt of electricity from Amy’s plush lips would bring him to his knees, he would have used his cane. Instead, he grabbed Amy’s shoulders for support and deepened the contact, digging his fingers into her hair and refusing to release her once she responded to his insistent pressure with a hunger as strong as his own. His weariness abruptly fled. Only the noise of the crowd reminded him that this was not the private moment he desperately craved. Shocked by the extent of his desire for this woman who thought him little more than an idle playboy, Jacques regretfully stepped back. Amy’s wide-eyed look assuaged some of his own surprise. At least, he wasn’t the only one reeling. “Come, Amy. Let’s give others the chance to win their turkeys.” Keeping his arm across her shoulders, he tugged her next to him. He enjoyed the caress of her hair against his jaw as the wind tossed it back at him. He wanted to catch the shining strands, turn her head to him, and continue that mind-blowing kiss — somewhere a good deal more private than this.
