Chapter 1

Leif Flying Eagle emitted a low whistle at the sight of the pretty woman with short, silvery-blonde hair, swinging down the ramp from the Boeing 747. "Well, hell," he murmured, "She really is a ringer for Marilyn Monroe--just like old Roy said."

He rolled his shoulders as she drew closer and thought, it's about damned time. For fifteen minutes he'd paced the tarmac like a caged bear as he awaited her arrival, eventually taking up a slouched position since the pacing hadn't helped. Why waste the energy?

Leif pulled one hand from his pocket, reached up and lowered his sunglasses. Suddenly, airport crewmen appeared from nowhere, all eager to assist the curvy blonde. He shook his head in disgust when she released the bag to one guy and rewarded him with a brilliant smile. The guy stumbled. Leif rolled his eyes.

She moved toward him again, her stride short and choppy due to the heels, her hips swinging back and forth, beckoning him. He gazed at her generous breasts tucked into the fitted suit jacket and swallowed the growing lump in his throat. She looked sweet as cotton candy, but more appealing. Scowling, he cursed his partiality for sweets.

The late Roy Thompson, the only real father he'd ever had, had provided a vivid description of his long-lost granddaughter.

The addition of a woman this beautiful into his predictable, tranquil domain could only mean trouble. Leif leaned away from the terminal wall. He'd taken a step toward her when she tripped on a rock--make that a pebble. He couldn't help grinning at her ridiculously out-of-place pink high-heeled shoes.

She managed to keep her balance, which was a good thing since he was too far away to make a difference. He resumed his relaxed position, eyed her city-slick pink suit and groaned audibly. It was obvious that Miss Cassandra Thompson possessed no common sense, whatsoever.

He contemplated the woman who would share his space for a week. He'd had his share of women over the years and had yet to meet one who wasn't a challenge or trouble, in one way or another.

It saddened Leif to think how Roy had never gotten the chance to see his granddaughter before his passing. He made a mental note to try to be nice to Miss Thompson, which shouldn't be difficult. She was something else--and then some.

A crewman drove a luggage filled cart out from behind the plane. Leif followed when she detoured in that direction. He stopped behind her just as she rose up on her toes for a suitcase on top of the heap. Glancing down, he caught a glimpse of her curvy legs from ankles to mid-thighs, her skirt rising as she reached for the suitcase. He brushed her back and, above her head, grasped the bag's handle and lowered it to the ground.

She whirled around and he found himself staring down into the prettiest pair of eyes he'd ever seen. The color reminded him of some emerald-colored jade pendant he'd seen in a jewelry shop in St. Paul one time.

"Leif," she said, reaching out to shake his hand.

He raised one eyebrow. "Cassandra Thompson?"

She gave him a bright, toothy smile. "That's me."

Oh, yeah. Marilyn didn't compare. Anyone within fifty miles of Crane Lake knew he felt more than a passing infatuation for a woman who'd died years before his birth. But the thought of Cassandra topping his affections for his idol unsettled him. No woman, thus far, had measured up to the perfect MM.

He'd always been honest with women, and they always knew what to expect from him--a good time, but no permanency. Leif hadn't always been that way. He'd changed over the years, having been let down too many times to allow himself to take another fall.

Her lips curled into an engaging smile, and he scowled a moment later when he caught himself returning her grin. I don't want to like her. She's my nemesis, come to invade my territory, thanks to her grandpa's will.

He took her outstretched hand. His pulse pounded as he held it. Finally, after swallowing several times, he managed to say, "How did you recognize me?"

"Grandpa had sent a photo album filled with pictures of himself, you and Gateway several months ago. How did you know it was me?"

"Your grandpa said you resembled Marilyn Monroe." He recalled the motion of her hips earlier as she'd made her way down the ramp. Her blonde tousled hair, slightly slanted eyes, and full lips--pouting and kissable--further confirmed the resemblance. Clearing his throat, he said, "I'd say he was right on."

Her laughter was intoxicating. "How do you feel about that?"

Leif's eyes narrowed as she bit her lower lip and watched him from beneath her long black eyelashes. She must have slicked on a pound of black mascara, because there was no doubt she was a true blonde, unlike MM. He could spot a phony one by the color of her roots from a yard away. Then he noticed her cheeks had turned a deep shade of pink, which he knew wasn't from makeup. What the hell was wrong with her? He found it difficult to believe she was embarrassed by her resemblance to the star.

He shrugged. "I'd say you were one lucky lady," and he thought, and I'm one lucky guy. My dream lady's come to life. It was his bad luck that she just happened to be claiming his territory.

He released her hand, pulled his back self-consciously and jammed it inside his jeans pocket again, disgusted with himself, and his attraction to her. Somehow, he managed to find his voice. "Thanks for being on time."

She rolled her eyes. "You are so sweet to say that when I know you've probably been waiting awhile. Sorry we were late, but it was out of my control. According to the pilot we encountered headwinds from out of the north."

Leif understood since he knew about flying. "I figured as much." He watched as a delicate hand swept a lock of hair from her forehead.

"I'm looking forward to reaching my grandfather's place, and relaxing."

Her words jarred him, reminding him of her reason for coming to Minnesota. He folded his arms and widened his stance. "My place now," he said, making sure she heard his possessive tone of voice.

She tilted up her chin. "Half, you mean. We're partners now."

Green eyes steady on his and her lips set, her look dared him to say more. His body went hot, as if a warm blanket had been wrapped around him. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides and gritted his teeth.

They'd spoken little more than a hundred words to each other, yet each had staked a claim to Gateway.

What had old Roy been thinking, leaving the place to both of them? It just wasn't going to work out. Wryly, he thought of all the times Roy had tried setting him up with a woman.. Had that been the old man's intention, once he discovered his granddaughter's whereabouts, and that she was single? Roy had often told him it wasn't good to be alone. Leif remembered Roy's horrified expression when he'd told Roy, after he threw in the towel and got hitched, that's when he would.

"I'm ready to leave when you are, but we'll need to pick up the rest of my luggage," she said.

"How many more bags do you have?" he asked, knowing she was trying to change the topic, which was a good thing. They'd have time to hash things over after they arrived at Gateway.

"Just two."

"Is that all?" he said, trying his best to hide his sarcasm.

Frowning, she tugged the hem of her jacket down over her hips. "I can't very well stay for an extended visit without enough clothing, and at least a few comforts from home, can I?"

"Hold on a minute," he growled. "What's this about an extended visit? I assumed you were just visiting a week or so, and that you'd sell out your half of Gateway to me before leaving. Now you're telling me you plan on staying longer?"

She gave him a wide-eyed look. "One shouldn't assume anything, Mr. Flying-Eagle. I have no plans to sell out--at least, not yet. Grandfather told me all about the gift shop. I can't wait to see it."

He rubbed his jaw, his hand covering his mouth to conceal his smile. "Mr. Eagle is good enough, Miss Thompson, or just Leif. By the way, Gateway to Paradise is mostly just a plain old bait shop."

"Gifts, too, according to grandfather's letters." She gave him a dimpled smile. "You know, if I like it here, I may end up staying permanently."

"Permanently?" Leif's voice croaked, his heart sinking at her words.

She raised her hand to her brow, shielding her eyes from the sun's rays as she looked to her left. "There's the rest of my luggage."

Leif shook his head when she rushed away once more. This was getting ridiculous. She paused beside another stack of luggage. When she reached up for a bag, he started after her again. Who did she think she was, Superwoman? He reached her side and they bent down simultaneously, reaching for the same bag. She got there first and his hand covered hers.

His heart started pounding, ricocheting against the walls of his chest, when she smiled. Her face was so close he could see every fine pore of her perfect skin. He also noticed that her eyes seemed to be a darker green at this close range.

"I've got it," she said softly.

He yanked his hand from hers, as if he'd been burned. "I'll get the others." He snatched up the remaining two bags and strode away.

"Leif! Please slow down, won't you?"

He stopped and waited for her to catch up. When she reached him he said, "Sorry." Then he glanced at the bag on rollers that she pulled along behind her. "How about I take that?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine, thanks."

They reached the black Ford Ranger Leif had rented, and he lifted the bags into the truck's flatbed. Then he strode purposefully to the passenger side and opened the door for her.

His temperature skyrocketed when she hiked up her narrow skirt, revealing a tempting view of a shapely thigh. He gulped when she settled onto the seat, then tugged her skirt down to her knees.

Leif slammed the door shut, but not before he glimpsed her skirt riding midway up her thighs again. He shook his head, more confident than ever that this woman didn't fit into his wilderness world, and never would. If she were sensible she'd return home to Chicago ASAP.

"How far is it to Gateway?" she asked as he climbed in beside her.

"About forty miles to the east. Buckle up, Ms. Thompson." He waited until she pulled the strap across her chest before throwing the truck into gear. Then he checked his rearview mirror and glanced over his shoulder before pulling away from the curb.

She frowned. "That's more than an hour away, isn't it?"

"Nope. More like ten to fifteen minutes or so, depending on the wind."

"Huh. I thought I was in Minnesota. Sounds more like the Chicago Expressway to me. How fast are the speed limits around here, anyway? And what does the wind have to do with anything?"

Leif accelerated and flicked a devilish grin her way. "You'll find out soon enough, darlin'."

He faced forward again, checked his watch, and saw that he still had plenty of time to pack his gear and check over the seaplane before taking off on his fishing trip. But he'd heard talk earlier on the radio about the possibility of a storm heading their way. That meant his departure could be delayed, which would be a damned shame. The money he earned for the fly-in fishing trips paid plenty. He hated having to cancel one, but if it stormed he had no choice.

Ten minutes later they arrived at another airport, a very small one with just two runways, and a rental car agency. Leif parked the Ranger, moved around to Cassie's side and opened her door. He left her to close it as he'd already gone to the back of the truck to haul out all three pieces of luggage.

Cassandra appeared in front of him. "Here, I can take that one." She tugged at the bag under his arm.

He shrugged and released his hold on it. Inside the rental agency office he handed over the keys, eager to get home. Outside again, he led her to a tiny plane equipped with pontoons and painted bright sunny yellow. He opened the door and waved at the passenger seat.

She looked at him, her jaw gaping. "You've got to be kidding!"

He glanced at his watch. "There's a possible storm heading this way so I'd like to get to Gateway sooner than later. Hop aboard. Trust me, it's safe."

Leif smiled in response to her narrow-eyed look, praying she'd tell him to take her back to the International Falls Airport. He clenched his jaw when she stepped up on the pontoon but paused when she couldn't raise her leg high enough to get into the plane. Her skirt was just too damned tight. Damn but the woman was stubborn!

He clasped her waist and hoisted her inside, then slammed the door shut.

* * * *

Cassandra knew a thunderstorm when she saw one. Up ahead, cumulus clouds were darkening and rapidly sprawling across the sky. The wind's gusts buffeted the plane up and down and side to side. It seemed her co-partner had a penchant for daring maneuvers, besides.

The plane nosed down sharply, then just as quickly leveled. "Ohmigod!" she blurted, slamming her eyes shut.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Didn't want to hit the hawk that was flying straight at us."

Clinging to the armrests with all her strength, she said a Hail Mary. Any minute now she'd be dead. She was so excited to see her grandfather's place, she'd given no thought to climbing aboard the seaplane with this stranger who flew like a crazy man. Then she imagined the plane falling, saw the water right beneath her, her heart, and her life falling along with it. She started sweating. She was too young to die!

"Now, don't worry," Leif said, patting her hand. "I think that storm's a ways off. We'll be at Gateway soon."

Cassandra darted a quick look at him before focusing on the threatening clouds once more. "How soon?" she croaked, hating the fear in her voice. But then, she was lucky she could speak at all. From past experience, she knew how fright had a way of paralyzing her vocal chords.

"Oh, I'd say about as long as it takes for an eagle to soar two-hundred feet to the water below to scoop up his supper."

She held onto the sides of her seat with both hands, her bottom bouncing as the plane battled the turbulence. The cabin was so small her shoulder brushed against Leif's arm--his exceedingly muscular arm--every time either of them moved.

"Which is how long?"

"Soon." He glanced at her, then went back to watching the instrument panel. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're questioning my ability to pilot this plane."

What was this guy, a mind reader? "That's an understatement," she muttered. "Why didn't you tell me the bait shop couldn't be reached by car?" As she peered down below at the water she added, "And couldn't we have traveled by boat?"

"Sure, but that's miles and miles of water down there. It would have taken us a week to get to the shop. Flying is the quickest, easiest way to reach Gateway."

She'd always been in control of her life, with the exception of being stood up at the altar. It was difficult placing herself in this man's hands--any man's hands--no matter how capable he might be. And, he was sinfully handsome, besides. She could fall for him very easily, if she allowed herself, which she wouldn't. Grudgingly, she decided that with his rugged good looks he likely attracted women from far and wide.

"Yes, guess it is the quickest way. It's just that I've never before traveled in such a tiny plane." She peered out the window and gulped at the patches of gray below, her stomach close to heaving. "Is that water down there?"

"Sure is." He stared at her, raised one eyebrow. "You're afraid, aren't you?"

She loosened her death grip on the armrests and twisted her hands in her lap. "Oh, no--well, perhaps a little." She squirmed in the uncomfortable lumpy seat. The brown leather cushion had dulled from the frequent beating of the sun and was slit in places.

"You're safe with me." He threw a few more switches on the control panel.

His soothing voice and confidence calmed her somewhat. To distract herself she stared at his hands, mesmerized by his long fingers. Fingers she could imagine touching her. Everywhere.

"You know, I was surprised to hear Roy had a granddaughter. He'd told me often during the past fifteen years he had no family." He raised his brow. "Makes me wonder why you suddenly appeared out of nowhere."

Cassandra frowned. "The private investigator he'd hired had learned about the car accident that had taken my parents' lives. After that he managed to track me down. Didn't Grandpa tell you he'd been searching for us for years?"

"Yeah, he did." He gave a short irritable laugh. "About two days before he died."

"Oh! I'm sorry. You must have been surprised," she murmured. She tried to imagine how she'd feel if someone had butted into her business, Pretty Woman Cosmetics. She'd be furious.

"Not just surprised but stunned. Roy then told me he'd had a falling out with his only son years ago."

"Unfortunately, that's true. I was three years old at the time."

"Roy was real torn up when he heard about your father's death."

She sighed. "I imagine he was, seeing as my grandfather and father hadn't spoken to each other in years. He said it was the saddest day of his life, and he'd forever regret they hadn't mended their fences. I wish I'd had the opportunity to see Grandfather before he passed away. I was so young when my parents took me away from here that I've no memories of him."

As she peered out the window, the beauty of the vivid green treetops caught her interest, but then she shuddered at the grayish-colored water. After awhile she sank back in her seat and grimaced, identifying the pungent odors in the plane. Leather, gasoline and the distinct odor of fish blended together, yet each scent was distinct.

She was uncomfortably conscious of his maleness. Virile and confident, but without being macho and overbearing would aptly describe him--the little she knew of him. Yet, her awareness of him as a very attractive man was starting to bother her. He was just another handsome man. She'd dated plenty of good-looking guys and had learned her lesson well. She bit her lip thoughtfully, gauging her attraction to him and decided, in the end, she must be experiencing some sort of chemical imbalance.

To her relief, Leif soon leveled the plane over a small shimmering lake. She let out her pent up breath when he landed smoothly. The plane coasted to a stop and the pontoons bumped against a long, sun-bleached wooden dock. Releasing his seat belt, he opened the door and jumped out. He walked along the pontoon, then vaulted to the dock where he looped a thick rope through a ring. The man was agile as a cat.

It was now or never. Free of her seat belt, Cassandra turned sideways--and froze. She was surrounded by water--cold, glassy, and dangerous, splashing noisily against the weathered dock.

Water terrified her. She avoided it whenever possible, except for long, luxurious baths or brisk showers in the safety of her own bathroom.

She looked up when she heard Leif call her name. He was motioning for her to leave the plane. Be brave. She started to slide from her seat but froze, her eyes widening in horror at the splashing water surrounding her.

"Come on, I haven't got all day," he said brusquely.

"I can't," she said aloud.

"Sure you can."

She shook her head wildly.

Suddenly, he appeared in front of her. He offered her a confident smile as he helped her from the plane, then guided her down the pontoon.

He settled his hands on her waist and little shivers coursed down her spine. She teetered on one heel as she stepped onto the dock. Why hadn't she worn her sensible flats instead of her heels before getting on the plane?

"You're safe now," he said, stepping off the dock after her. He picked up a suitcase, tucked it under his arm, then snatched up the two larger bags. "But you've got a problem, Miss Thompson," he said, moving ahead of her.

"I do?"

He lengthened his stride and she tripped along in her high heels to keep up with him, admiring his strong, athletic body. She stared at his broad shoulders covered in a khaki-colored shirt, the sleeves rolled back to his forearms where fine gold hairs glinted in the daylight, even though the sky was overcast.

"Northern Minnesota is nothing but water with a bit of land thrown in here and there," he said. "I'd advise you to get used to it sooner rather than later."

"I've heard the Minnesota slogan, 'Land of Ten Thousand Lakes' before. I also discovered on the flight here that it wasn't an exaggeration."

"I'll bet a day's pay you don't swim, do you?" he said as he stepped off the deck and onto the walkway leading to the store.

She shook her head as heat seeped into her cheeks. Damn! How had he guessed? Silly question. How could he not have guessed? She'd been uptight the entire flight. And he'd caught her gawking out the window at the water below.

He had just placed one foot on the stairs leading up to a long, low log cabin when a German Shepherd came from around the corner of the store and bounded toward them. Laughing, Leif dropped the bags, went down on one knee and roughed up the dog's fur. "Hey, there, Shep. Glad to see me?"

Cassandra smiled down at them.

Leif rose, his hand still stroking the dog's thick coat. "Meet Shep."

She approached the dog, hand out. Shep cocked his head and stared at her with dark, soulful eyes. When she was close enough he dipped his head and rubbed it against her hand, welcoming her touch. She grinned. "He's very friendly."

"Course he is. I can't have a dog at Gateway if he scares the customers." He picked up her bags and climbed the stairs. When he reached the landing he stuck out his foot and nudged it into a gaping space where the screen had once been attached. He set her bags down on the floor and held the door for her.

Cassandra stepped through the doorway then stopped in front of the transaction counter. She bent from side to side, examining every nook and cranny.

White pine logs stained a golden brown glistened in the sunshine coming through the windows. The center of the large square room was open. Merchandise, stacked on shelving and hanging from hooks, hugged the four walls of the store.

She sighed at the disappointing selection of adult merchandise, but one shelf piled high with t-shirts caught her interest. She lifted one and unfolded it. A huge bug with horrid wide eyes stared at her. The words 'Minnesota's State Bird' were splashed below the insect in big wiggly letters. Not only were the shirts unattractive they appeared to be one-size-fits-all.

After refolding the shirt she moved across the room to the children's area. There the selection was, to her delight, plentiful. Shiny silver harmonicas and Native American drums decorated with colorful feathers sat neatly on a shelf. Fancy feathered Indian headdresses and authentic coonskin caps hung from a pegged tree. Tiny canoes made of birch bark and plastic Native American Indians and Cowboys hung from hooks in packages.

Her smile slipped when she noticed cobwebs festooning the display. She wondered how well the stuff sold, guessing those cobwebs had built up over a period of time. With a finger she pulled one down, then another, pausing when she heard Leif's voice filled with irony.

"Okay. I get the message, Miss Thompson. The place needs cleaning."

Cassandra glanced at him over her shoulder and arched one eyebrow. "Obviously you have no allergies to dust."

He shook his head. "Do you?"

She nodded.

"Dusting isn't a priority." Stepping closer he said, "And I don't want Maxie working too hard. She's got a bad heart."

Cassie frowned and asked, "Who's Maxie?"

"My store clerk. You'll be meeting her soon."

"Is there some reason why you don't dust?"

He straightened to his full six-foot plus height and looked down his nose at her. "Cause I'm the fishing guide, and I work every day at it."

"Fishing, hmm?"

"Yeah. I get paid to take folks fishing."

She widened her eyes. "No kidding? Uh, why would someone pay you to take him fishing? Don't you just throw out a line, sit back and wait and see what'll bite?"

His jaw tightened and his complexion reddened. "No, that's not how you fish up here," he said, his voiced laced with sarcasm. "I know where the fish are--the customers don't. There's a technique to it."

"I see," she said, trying to understand. She'd never been fishing but she couldn't imagine it being all that difficult. She folded her arms and tilted her head as she met the irritated look in his eyes. "How well do you get paid for guiding?"

"Fifty a head each trip."

"And how many fishermen per trip?"

"Four to six."

"How often during the week do you guide?"

"Four to six days a week."

She whistled in appreciation.

Leif grinned. "So, you see why I don't dust."

"I can see where you wouldn't have much time, so I'll dust."

Leif shrugged. "While you're here it's fine with me."

She thought over Leif's explanation. How many months a year did he earn that kind of income? Lakes froze over in the winter so he wouldn't be doing any guiding then. She recalled her grandpa telling her he went ice-fishing in the winter, though.

She sauntered around the store some more. Leif sat on a bar-type stool behind the counter, cigarette between his lips, watching her. Heat rose up her neck and into her face at his unwavering stare. Quickly she turned back to her inspection.

The long windows nearby were spattered with bird droppings, and appeared to have not been washed in a long time. The window sashes, once white, had dulled to a yellow-gray color. The screening on the door was loose and flapped in the hot southerly breeze.

None of this bothered her, though. With a good cleaning and the hired services of a handyman, the place would be perfect. And an expanded line of merchandise for vacationers to choose from would also help.

She ducked out of the way of an oncoming moth, then turned when someone called out Leif's name. A tall, spare woman wearing a pair of denim blue overalls passed through a beaded-curtain and entered the storefront.

"Thank heavens you two got here before the storm hit," the woman said. She stopped directly in front of Cassandra and took her hands. "Welcome home, Cassandra."

"It's temporary, Maxie," Leif muttered.

Cassandra bristled and scowled at him. She'd had about enough of his sarcasm for one day. Just one more cynical remark from him and she'd deck him. Tugging her jacket over her hips she breathed deeply and schooled her features into a long, cool look. "Sorry. Did you say something?"

"This is Maxie, our head store clerk," he said, his voice clipped.

Maxie rolled her eyes. "Other than Leif, I'm the only clerk."

"I'm happy to meet you." Cassandra squeezed the older woman's hands. Maxie smiled down at Cassie.

"Ken and Jim from Duluth were here this morning. Said they were sorry they missed you but would be by tomorrow morning. They expected you to guide them, not Ben."

Leif shrugged. "Ben's just as good a guide as me. But I'll be here in the morning to fly them over the border."

Cassandra stared at him closely. Now that she wasn't focused on surviving the flight, she could take in the full measure of the man. She admired his bronze-colored wavy hair touching his shirt collar, vivid blue eyes contrasting sharply with his tanned complexion. A chill went up her spine as she stared at his golden mustache, imagining the feel of it against her skin.

Cassandra had learned from her grandfather's letters that Leif's mother was of Ojibwe heritage, but his father was unknown.

Whatever Leif's father's ethnicity, Cassandra thought his parents had managed to produce a splendid specimen of manhood.

His appreciative gaze swept over her body and heat seeped into her cheeks. It wasn't the first time a man looked at her so admiringly, but it was one of the few times that a wanton sensation settled deep insider her, ready to surface. She also imagined what it would be like to feel his strong arms around her; to feel his lips on hers.

"I've got to check over a few things on the plane before I leave."

She stared at him, long after he strode outside.

Eventually Maxie waved a hand in front of her face. "Uh, Cassie? Come on, sweetie. I'll show you to your room. It was your grandfather's, so don't mind the masculine decor. You can change it, if you decide to stay."

Was that a hopeful tone she heard in Maxie's voice? Her outlook lightened at the prospect of someone being happy about her presence. But, she was also exhausted from the trip and didn't feel much like socializing.

Hesitantly, she said, "Do you mind if I rest a bit?"

"Heck, no!" Maxie replied, "I was going to tell you to catch a few winks before dinner."

* * * *

Half an hour later, Leif returned to the store, looked around and said, "Where is she?"

"If you mean Cassandra, I told her to take a nap."

"I need to talk to her before I go."

Maxie shrugged. "There's no telling how long she'll sleep. Besides, you can't leave yet. There's a storm brewin' out there."

"I checked the radar. It looks like most of the bad stuff's going to stay south of us. Guess I'll have to wait until I get back to talk to her about a few things around here." He frowned. "And no gossiping about me while I'm gone."

"Not a peep from me, boss--unless Cassandra asks."

"Great," he grumbled as he strode around the counter and made his way down the hallway to his room. With the efficiency of someone who packed often, he loaded his duffle bag and hauled it into the hallway, closing his door just as Cassandra opened hers.

His breath hitched at the sight of her tousled hair and sleepy eyes, his gaze sliding down her womanly curves.

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