Margaret Johnson-Hodge, Author
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EXCERPT:  Warm  Hands


Picture

PRAISE FOR WARM HANDS

“Johnson-Hodge
offers a sassy and often endearing story. ” --Publishers Weekly “


      Running.
       Mya felt her feet hit the ground, but little else. Everything above her ankles was weightless and heaven-bound. She sprinted. Caramel thighs kissing the morning sun. Sweat glistened on her skin, and she was one with the universe.
      Her thoughts were cast in a hundred directions, riding the wind, making connections. Her mind, open and free, released itself. She urged her body forward, every muscle in her consigned to finishing the course she’d set. Twelve laps, three miles, her daily debt for the body that was firm and fit.
                Sweat gathered, wetting her scalp, crawling into her eyes. Slid down her spine in hot little drops. Sweat, her earmark, the indicator that said she was on target, par for the course. Doing it.
            Lap thirteen. She slowed, her body shifting gears. She let go of her last bit of energy until she was down to a stroll. Her body pulsed against the soft breeze, her runners high on its way.
            She was in her own little world and liked it. Just her and her thoughts. No worry, no cares. She went on that way, semiconscious of the world around her, feeling good and competent, her three miles finished.
            Then reality arrived, bringing her back into the here and now; her netherworld fading like smoke. Her eyes found her watch, confirming what she already knew. A few minutes were all she owned before she had to go home and get ready for work.
            Mya sensed someone to the left of her and shifted to her right. Counted off seconds, waiting for them to pass. She walked, breathing hard, tense, catching a flicker of long brown thigh. Was it him?
            For three days he had paced her mute and just out of sight. For three days, Mya had been aware of him, growing more anxious with each passing day. She needed him to say hello, break the ice, ask her name, put an end to what he had begun days ago.
            Her chest began to hurt and she realized she was holding her breath. She released it, lowered her head. Looked up, a quick glance to the left, and there he was.
            Their eyes met, locked and danced away. For three days he had lingered in her shadows. Now he was right by her side.
            “Hi.”
            She nodded, reeling in her emotions. Took in air, determined not to be anxious; determined to be cool in the wake of his long-anticipated approach.
            “Hello.”
            “I’m Jeff.”
            She took in more air, playing her hand. “Mya.”
            “You run often?”
            “Often enough.”
            “You have a nice stride,” Jeff went on to say.
            “Thanks.” She looked at her watch. Six forty-five. Time to go. There was a slight pause, a shifting of his energy and Mya knew this Jeff was going to get to his nitty-gritty.
            “So, you married or anything?”
            “Are you?” she asked, a certain humor in her voice. She knew her question had taken him by surprise. Years of dating had given her a slightly hardened edge and her tongue was known to bitter at the drop of a hat.
            “Married? Me? Not yet.”
            “Kids then,” she decided about the man with the nice runner’s body and kind brown eyes who had followed her for three days around the track without so much as a ‘hello.’
            “No, not the last time I looked.”
            “Don’t you know?”
            He shrugged. “I’m as sure as sure can get.”
            This moment, anticipated for days, took a backseat as liability found her. She was on the clock and had a job to get to. She looked at him regretful. “I gotta go.”
            “Already?”
            “Yeah…work.”
            “Can I get a number?”
            She was surprised that he was asking. “You want a number?”
            “Yeah.”
            She drew back then, two emotional paces from the man beside her. She denied her first instinct and opted for a second. She wouldn’t give her number, just her mystery. “Seven.”
            Confusion clouded his face. “Seven what?”
            She shrugged. “Just seven.”
            “Your phone number’s one digit?”
            Mya laughed, enjoying the moment, the puzzlement that danced on his face. “Hey, you wanted a number. I gave you one…really, I got to go.” She gave a little wave and left off. Opened her car door and slid into the seat.
            Mya lifted the water bottle to her lips and took a long sip. Watched him watch her, wonderment full in his eyes.
                                                                          *
            Jeff stood breathing deeply on the morning air. The Honda had disappeared seconds ago, but his eyes were fixed on the empty street.
            Mya. Like a first breath, her name rushed him with wondrous ebullience, filling him, teasing him; playing hide and seek with his heart. It had been a while since he’d felt this way and the elation was so profound, so sweet, it felt like the first time he had experienced this joy.
            Up-front, saucy. Sexy. Combinations too irresistible to ignore and too tantalizing to resist. There was an intensity to her; an excitement that was fire and ice. Getting too close could mean a serious burn, but that didn’t deter Jeff. He liked his women spicy and getting close to the flame was half the attraction…


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Warm Hands: Paperback