Read Knocking at Her Heart (Conover Circle #1) for Free Online

some chicken with a side
of spaghetti. As she slid into the nearest empty chair, the secretary of the
group was reviewing the minutes from the previous month's meeting.
    The group wasn’t just any
ordinary gardening club. Sure, they worked on town-wide beautification projects
and had been known to have spirited debates about the most unusual orchids. But
the sixty-year-old club had morphed over the years. Now, in addition to their
shared gardening interests, the group was the largest fundraising organization
in Conover and through a variety of means, some plant related and some not,
managed to fund a lot of worthwhile efforts in the community.
    Once the secretary finished, they
called on Maddie as treasurer, to read off the financial statistics. It was
good news. They had collected a respectable amount of money during their last
town-wide garage sale and had received an additional five-thousand-dollar
bequest from a recently deceased member of the group. 
    Grace Quill from the high school
got up and gave an impassioned speech asking for help in buying new uniforms
for the 32-person band. That sparked several vivid recollections from the
audience about the last Fourth of July parade when three of the newest band
members didn't even have matching pants. Before Maddie knew it, the president
called a vote. Grace Quill shook with delight.
    Maddie made a mental note to get
her a check quickly. Then the president of the Green Thumbs, Patrick O’Neil, who
managed the largest hotel at the outskirts of town stood up and announced that
there wasn’t a hotel room left in Conover for the upcoming weekend. The high
school was hosting a regional soccer tournament that was a big draw. “Retailers
in the room should be prepared for a good weekend,” he said.
    “Cheers to that,” said Clancy,
who owned the candle store. He lifted his water glass. Others clapped and
lifted their own glasses.
    Maddie followed suit. Then saw
Patrick turn to welcome their guest speaker to the podium. Suddenly, the glass
was sliding out of her grasp. She thrust her other arm forward, knocking the
cracker basket across the table in the process, and managed to grab the glass.
However, not before half of it sloshed out, spreading across the white
tablecloth.
    She stared at the podium. Sam
Jordonson. What was he doing here? She’d never seen him at a meeting before.
    Mary Clark, sitting to her right,
gathered up the soggy saltines.
    “Sorry,” Maddie mumbled.
    “No problem,” Mary said before
scooting her chair a few inches away.
    Great. Sam Jordonson was turning
her into a hazard.
    Patrick finished a short
introduction and Sam launched into an explanation of a new procedure for
minimally invasive knee surgery. She could tell that the audience was
captivated. Many of the members were older and she suspected they had a few
aches and pains.
    She slumped down in her chair,
hoping that he couldn’t see her. With her breasts practically at table-level,
she watched as he lifted his hand and ran his fingers through his short, thick
hair. She couldn’t help it. She ran her own fingers lightly across the bandage
on her left hand, remembering what it felt like when his hands had touched her,
remembering the strength of his grip, the heat of his skin, the shape of his
fingers, the—
    Mary Clark leaned over. “Are you
okay? You sound as if you’re having trouble breathing. Do you feel hot?”
    She felt like a fool. Any minute
now Mary was going to wave Sam over to tend to the medical emergency.
    She straightened up in her chair.
He looked good enough to eat in his white shirt and red tie. She picked up a
slightly-damp rye crisp and noisily opened it. Now everybody at the table was
frowning at her.
    Would the night ever end?
    She stuffed the cracker in her
mouth. Her throat felt dry. 
    Finally, there was clapping and
it was over.
    She looked up. Sam was leaving
the podium and returning to his seat. Before he sat down, he made a half-turn,
looked right at her, and