The Bride Wore Blue
The Bride Wore Blue
“J.D. said confidently as he tinkered again with what he hoped Maggie regarded as a total mystery of machinery and mazes. If she knew anything—anything at all about engines—he had about as much of a chance of pulling this off as a rock had floating.
Though still fairly silent, she’d really been a sport. When he’d suggested an extra pair of hands would come in handy to hold a wrench while he tightened a few screws and oiled a few gears, she’d drawn a wary but determined breath and followed him to the plane.
It had been a cheap trick. But he wasn’t above pulling it. Not when the result placed him in such deliciously close proximity to the spring-fresh scent of her hair and the summer-warm heat of her body. And she looked so damn cute with that smudge of grease on her nose.
He’d even gotten an exasperated grin out of her when he’d told her to put more pressure on the dowadidie so he could tighten the whatsitduger which in turn would make the thingamajigger work the way it was supposed to.
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