Body Language by Suzanne Brockmann Read Free Book Online Page B

grasp.
    “If the touching doesn’t work,” he continued, his husky voice soft, “or if the situation doesn’t allow for physical contact, there’s always surrogate touching.” He smiled, a quick flash of teeth. “I know, it sounds terrible, but it’s not.”
    As Sandy watched, McCade used one finger to trace the floral pattern on the fabric that covered the couch. He looked up at her and smiled slightly. “It sends out a signal that says, I’d really rather be touching you.”
    The small movement of his hand made the muscles in his shoulder and arm flex enticingly in the dim living-room light. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue and Sandy’s mouth went dry.
    “McCade,” she started, but her voice sounded hoarse. She cleared her throat and crossed her arms again. “You could obviously write a how-to manual on picking up women. What I don’t get is what male courting techniques have to do with me?”
    “James was giving you signals this evening, and all you did was back away.” He stood up. “I’m getting a beer—want one?”
    Sandy nodded. “Thanks.”
    “One thing I didn’t mention,” he called from the kitchen.
    She heard the refrigerator door open and then shut.
    “Preening,” he continued. “Both men and women do it if they’re attracted to each other.” She heard the hiss of the bottles being opened, the clatter of the tops as McCade tossed them into the garbage. “A man might adjust his tie, smooth down his hair—that’s what James did. This is all done unconsciously, remember.”
    In the kitchen, McCade ran his hands under the cold water from the sink. She’d been sitting there, watching him, and it had taken all of his control not to sweep her into his arms and carry her into the bedroom.
    Not that she would ever go willingly.
    He closed his eyes, and in a sudden flash he could imagine Sandy, soft and willing, her body cradling his as she drew him back with her onto her bed—
    McCade dried his hands on a paper towel, then used it to mop the perspiration from his forehead.
    He went back into the living room and handed her one of the cold beers.
    “So old James is sending you signals,” he told her, getting back to the subject as he sat down on the couch again, “and what do you do? You cross your arms and freeze him out.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Same way you did to me just a few minutes ago.”
    He leaned back, putting his feet up on the coffee table as he tilted his head and nearly finished his entire beer. Sandy waited until he pulled the bottle away from his mouth before she punched him in the arm.
    “I did
not
freeze you out,” she said.
    “Oh yes, you did.”
    “How
do
you know so much about body language?” she asked, her eyes narrowed slightly.
    He shrugged. “I don’t know, I read something about it once, and it really seemed to make sense, so I paid attention. I mean, I had already seen examples of different kinds of body language as I watched people. After I read that book, I knew how to interpret it.” His smile turned sheepish. “For a while I
did
use it to pick up women. I could walk into a room, and within a few minutes I would know who was available and who wasn’t. It worked every time.”
    “I’ll bet it did,” Sandy muttered.
    “But we’re getting off the subject. You need to relearn your female courting techniques.”
    “Which are…?”
    “Palming,” McCade told her.
    She started to laugh. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
    He grinned and held out his hand, palm up. “It’s a gesture of surrender. It’s nonviolent, nonthreatening. Studies of body language show that women in particular present the palms of their hands to the men that they’re interested in. I think it’s a passive-versus-aggressive thing, man being traditionally more aggressive, the woman being passive, you know, surrendering. A prize to be won.”
    “Ick.” Sandy made a face.
    “Yeah, I know.” McCade had to laugh. “But ten to one says James