Within Striking Distance
“Cynthia asked, pausing in the doorway of her husband’s office. “The steering arm division in particular.”
Hank Brown looked up from the computer and peered at her over the rims of his glasses. “Not yet. When do you need them?”
“By two, if you could.” She smoothed her hand over her French twist, ensuring there were no stray hairs. “I’ve called a meeting with the planning committee.”
He returned his attention to the keyboard and poked a few keys with his index fingers. “I’ll get right... on it.”
She murmured her thanks but didn’t move away. Even after three decades of marriage, she enjoyed the sight of her husband. He had been blessed with a strong, chiseled bone structure that had only improved with age. The gray hair at his temples gave him a mature elegance, as did the custom-tailored shirts she had ordered for him. He’d draped his suit coat over the back of his chair and loosened his tie, a habit she’d been unable to break him of, yet he still looked handsome enough to take her breath away.MoreLess
Hank Brown looked up from the computer and peered at her over the rims of his glasses. “Not yet. When do you need them?”
“By two, if you could.” She smoothed her hand over her French twist, ensuring there were no stray hairs. “I’ve called a meeting with the planning committee.”
He returned his attention to the keyboard and poked a few keys with his index fingers. “I’ll get right... on it.”
She murmured her thanks but didn’t move away. Even after three decades of marriage, she enjoyed the sight of her husband. He had been blessed with a strong, chiseled bone structure that had only improved with age. The gray hair at his temples gave him a mature elegance, as did the custom-tailored shirts she had ordered for him. He’d draped his suit coat over the back of his chair and loosened his tie, a habit she’d been unable to break him of, yet he still looked handsome enough to take her breath away.MoreLess
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