What was it about Sage Bristo that drew women to her? Maybe it was the tall, toned body and androgynous good looks. Perhaps they liked her confidence�her movements and manner so sure and decisive. Or was it the air of mystery, the temptation of a challenge to unravel? ��She felt like a child playing with fire, touching the tips of the flame just long enough to feel the warmth, not long enough to feel the pain. Their bodies swayed around the notes, connected only by the touch of their palms. Inadvertently Deanne�s thigh grazed against smooth warm leather; her breast brushed below Sage�s. How long can you play with fire before getting burned? Sage�s eyes bore into the side of Deanne�s head, demanding they be met. The test quickened Deanne�s heartbeat. She met Sage�s eyes, stared directly into the heart of the flame and faced the seduction head-on. She found exactly what she had expected�the look that contradicted all reason, the look that made her forget who she was and where she was. Her heart was pounding so hard, she feared it would bridge the tiny gap between them and beat against Sage�s chest. Her eyes, she worried, may be giving away what her body was saying silently.
Sage couldn�t explain the attraction, but she had certainly benefited from it, at least physically. As her reputation as a Don Juana grew, so did her black book of admiring women. Women who wanted to spoil her, to own her, to please her. Women who would do anything for her. But never the woman she needed the most�the one woman who could lead her through the realm of desire, to the thing she desires most�
EXCERPT:
[LEGACY OF LOVE]
[MARIANNE'S FAVORITE LINKS]