Griff closed the book, then turned to the title sheet and looked again at Cap’s large, sprawling signature. He picked up the rose that Cap had pressed between the pages and put it to his nose and sniffed. Like a ghost from the past, the dry, withered petals still had a faint scent reminding him of the dedication. The words brought back his memories of Cap, and his mischievous nature. They might have had a rocky beginning, but he was thankful he had known him, and for the private joke that would never be understood by anyone but Griff and the senator.
To Griff Nyle—a man who will
always smell like a rose.
Cap Robertson
Griff leaned his head back and rested it on the back of the chair as he thought of Cap. He had to admit that he’d envied Cap a little. The old sailor was happy with himself and his life. He was probably the first completely real person Griff had ever known. He’d lived hard and died young, but he’d lived the way he wanted—on his own terms. He had always thought Griff led a charmed life, and maybe he did, but—
He heard the doorbell and looked up. With a quick glance at his watch, he wondered who could be at his door at this time of night. Tiredly pulling himself forward, he rose, then walked with a weary gait toward the door and opened it. Standing there in his seersucker suit, a hat resting on top of his iron gray head and his magic satchel clutched tightly in his hand was Bernard French.
“Ahhh, there ye are at last.” His eyes twinkled as his teasing mouth stretched upward in a happy smile. “I was beginnin’ to think I’d never see ye standin’ on the other side of that door. Well, glad to see ye made it, lad. Congratulations.”
“Mr. French! My god, how could you—” He reached out. “Are you real?”
“Ye’ll figure it out one day. Go now, lad and take care of your wife and that fine, healthy son you have. Fine family. Fine family. You take care of ’em, hear?”
“Why do I have a feeling I’ll never see you again?”
“Because it’s time to let go. Oh, it’s okay, lad. It’s okay to let go of this dream... a boy’s dream. Ye’re a man now. No need for the old salesman now.”
The man slowly backed away until he faded into the night. “Don’t go!”
“Ye’re wife, lad,” the voice echoed. “Go to her. Make lots of red-haired children.”
Griff woke quickly and looked over at the front door curiously.
He realized it had been a dream when he looked down and saw that Cap’s book had slid to the floor. Just then, he shifted his eyes toward Lorelei, who was asleep in front of the fireplace, and remembered earlier in the evening when they had walked in the rain, came back and made love in front of the fireplace. Could a man be happier? He had asked himself that very question that morning when he looked across the tiny table in their breakfast nook and saw Lorelei smiling at him. Now the words of that fateful night so long ago echoed through his head—words laced with tears, longings—a heart breaking.
Tangled sheets, walking in the rain, making love in front of a fireplace, someone waking me up at two in the morning because he can’t bear to be near me without making love to me.
He would never forget those words, or the night that she had said them to him. That night was a pivotal point in their relationship—the night she’d said goodbye, the night he finally woke up.
Now, without a sound, he joined her on the floor in front of the fireplace, the smell of her exotic cologne enfolding him like an erotic veil. He quietly slipped out of his robe and just as the clock strummed out that magical two o’clock hour, she slowly turned. His gaze met her wild foxlike, bronze eyes in the darkness. Lips touched, bodies pressed together, and Griff and Lorelei lost themselves in the warmest and most passionate embrace either of them would ever know. As he slipped inside her and the two moaned lustily, through an open window the old salesman could be seen walking beneath the circle of a streetlamp—making his way into another child’s dream.
About the Author
Her name is Temple Madison, and she writes about everything, including ManLove on occasion. Some of her men are good, others are bad. Some noble, others will scare the crap out of you. As a rule, she doesn’t give you the usual, but rather puts characters together that would never find each other in real life. This makes for a very intriguing story line!
The situations that come out of her imagination break out, because they’re too big to stay put. Her men are not wimps. These characters are restless and hot. Their eyes are bright, piercing, and unsettled, and as you read about them, you’ll feel that fire everyone’s talking about, that old black magic that creeps up into your groin, making you want more, and more, and yeah—even more!
If you like the idea of men making love with each other, look for some of her ManLove books, and then prepare to be captivated. If you want to read a story that has intrigue, twists, and turns, topped off with handsome hunks that talk like men, act like men, and make love like real men—come on along and be prepared for stories that are different. Stories that are hot, sultry, and steaming. Her books are dark, not to mention mysterious and atmospheric. Her writing style is erotic and highly sensual, gutsy, earthy and gritty and the endings are sometimes happy, sometimes bittersweet, and sometimes surprising. Good will always overcome evil—even though it might have to take a dark twisted path to get there!
If you give her a try, you can be sure that not one of her stories is a carbon copy of the other. The name Temple Madison might mean a lot of things to a lot of people—but boring is not one of them!
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