Excerpt of Patience, Love by Haven Isley

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

"Chelsea!" Her ex pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. He leaned back and let his gaze roam over her body from head to toe.

"You look so different." He kissed her and hugged her to him again, taking Chelsea's breath away. "I almost didn't recognize you." Nigel lifted his hand to brush the thick blonde strands away from her face. The intimate gesture made her heart do crazy things.

"Your hair is so long." Nigel's fingers glided down the long strands. When his hand reached the small of her back, his eyes darkened. He grinned when he realized her hair fell even lower. To get to the end, he would have to place his hand on her ass.

"Smashing," he said, and Chelsea blushed. "I can't believe you're here," Nigel whispered in awe.

"I know. I bet you thought you were through with the likes of me," she teased.

Nigel froze and, just as suddenly as his arms had come around her, they were gone.

Way to go, Chelsea. You idiot! "Nigel, I-I don't know what I'm saying. I think I still have jet lag," Chelsea murmured, feeling awkward. Suddenly her bright idea to surprise Nigel didn't seem so bright after all. Turning around, she stooped to finish gathering her things.

After a few seconds, Nigel walked over and picked up her attaché case and set it beside her. He started to pick up the project reports then asked, "Why do you have these, Chelsea?

"Hmm?"

Nigel lifted the stack of reports and set them down in front of her. "Why do you have the analysis reports for the Mallor-Stanton project?"

"Ah, yes...well," Chelsea's voice trailed off as Nigel reached around her and grabbed the small brown box off the floor. He picked up her hot-pink stapler, yellow desk clock and other small, colorful items, filling the box until he had finished collecting everything. He sat beside Chelsea and handed her the box.

"So what are you doing here, Dr. Briarson?" he asked. The look on his face was strictly professional.

Chelsea cleared her throat. I want a do over. I should have said yes when you asked me to come with you to London. Instead, stealing a quick peek at Nigel out of the corner of her eye, she said, "Dr. Singer broke her leg over the weekend. It happened while she was spelunking."

Nigel looked skeptical. "Cave exploring?"

"It's true. So the dean sent me in her place to wrap up any loose ends with the Mallor-Stanton project."

Preparing to load up her arms again and find her office or die trying, Chelsea grabbed the stack of project reports. Nigel took them out of her hands.

"Of course, no one thought to tell me, as project leader."

Nigel's voice was harsh and it was obvious he wasn't thrilled about getting the news secondhand. Standing, he wedged the reports under one arm before continuing to voice his disapproval. "Since I am the one who is in charge of this collaborative effort between our two universities, I should have been informed about this matter immediately. I should think Dr. Singer or your dean would have called me about something as important as this."

Chelsea grabbed the small box and everything else that remained on the floor and rose. "I asked Dr. Singer not to call you," she said, facing Nigel. "She agreed, only as a favor to me."

Nigel furrowed his brow. He wasn't buying it. There had been times when that furrowed brow made her want to scream. It was bad enough the man was brilliant, but he was also very good at reading people. It wouldn't be long before he'd know exactly why she was back in his life.

Suddenly, Chelsea felt foolish. Why did she think she could just show up and everything would be as it was before? Her chance to be with Nigel was six months ago, and that time had come and gone.

"If you'll just tell me where my office is, I'll be out of your hair," she said, keeping her breathing steady as, once again, Nigel's gaze moved from the top of her head and down the length of her body. His gaze drifted back to her face and fixated on her mouth. It pleased her to know that her new look was having more than a slight effect on him. Not that physical attraction had ever been an issue. She glimpsed the zipper of his tan trousers where there was a slight bulge. Though their reunion might not be going as smoothly as Chelsea wanted, one thing was certain. Nigel still felt something for her.

She took a deep breath and exhaled. "I do have quite a few tasks to complete for Dr. Singer. So if you could direct me to my office, it would be appreciated."

Nigel smirked. Then his brow went up. "This way," he said, placing a hand in the middle of her back. His touch was a little rough as he propelled her down one of the corridors, taking a few sharp turns and finally stopping outside a closed door.

"After you." Nigel opened the heavy wooden door and stepped aside for Chelsea to precede him. She walked into a tiny reception area with facing chairs, then through a second door. Stopping partway into a large office, Chelsea took in the wall-to-wall textbooks and journals. The selection was impressive and there were even a few rare books. But most of the materials she needed were easily accessible on the internet, so she didn't think she would need to disturb much.

Overall, the office wasn't bad. There was plenty of natural light. She would have to remember to bring a potted plant tomorrow.

She smiled at Nigel. "It's nice. It could use some bright colors. But the office will do," she said, walking over to a round table in one corner of the room. She laid everything she was carrying on the table and placed her attaché case on the floor.

"I'm glad you approve," Nigel said, setting the stack of reports in his arms on a different table. He turned and strolled over to one of two windows in the room. Outside the sky was lavender blue. A beautiful summer day. July in London was a moderate warm temperature, quite pleasant in comparison to the sweltering heat of her home in California's San Fernando Valley.

Nigel closed the blinds, eliminating the sunlight streaming into the office. "Why don't you have a seat?" He motioned toward the chair behind a large mahogany desk and hurried over to pull the chair out for her. Chelsea crossed the room and sat. She ran her hands over the leather arms of the high-backed chair and relaxed.

"I love it. It's the ultimate in comfort." She smiled as Nigel walked to the office door and locked it. As he strolled back to the desk, Chelsea frowned. "Surely what you have to say to me you can say with the door unlocked. Now I know that I should have called, but—"

Slam! Lip-lock. Moaning. Deep moaning.