Hugging herself with both arms, Myra Parker shivered. Her thin summer jacket was no match for the howling wind blowing over the open railway platform. Carrying ice cold rain and tiny hailstones, the wind smelled of stinking garbage and exhaust.

Myra gazed at the inviting lights of a waiting room below a huge black station clock at the other end of the platform, then nodded. She'd better wait inside.

She rushed to the flaked wooden door and hurried in.

The waiting room seemed even colder than the platform, but at least it was dry inside. The spot gave shelter to a mass of damp people, and an awkward blanket of stale smoke covered the ceiling.

Myra coughed as her eyes roamed over the room, stopping at the magazine stand that seemed lost in a deserted corner. Maybe they sold hot coffee over there?

Searching her pocket for small change she wrestled herself through the mass of chattering people and reached the stand.

"I'd like a black coffee please," she said to the well-built hottie behind the counter.

He gave her a dazzling smile and winked. "Bad weather, right?"

She nodded. "Will it be better tomorrow?"

"Nope. They should cover Holland with a huge umbrella.” Grinning, he gave her a tiny plastic cup filled with a deliciously smelling brown fluid. “Where are you from?"

"Miami, Florida."

"Ah, the Sunshine State. I've been there once. Gorgeous weather."

Smiling in reply, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He was attractive in a mysterious way. Mysterious? What made her think that kind of nonsense? He was handsome. Period.

"Do you like reading?" he asked, groping about in a pile of magazines, his hand coming forward with a little green booklet.

She hesitated. "I don't think ..."

"It's a gift. Because I love Florida so much."

When he pushed the booklet into her hand, a weird prickling flashed down her spine, ending in the warm spot of intimacy between her legs. It was as if ... As if something unknown wanted her. Something horny ...

Oh gibberish!

She studied the title.

"Lord of the Marsh" the cover said in curly scarlet characters.

"Hope you like legends." His dark male voice seemed to come from very far away.

Swallowing down the sudden feeling of uneasiness, she smiled at him. "I do, thank you. Very kind of you."

He pointed at a huge scarlet leather chair in a corner near the space heater. "Sit down, little lady. Read the book, and enjoy your coffee."

His nails were well-trimmed and clean, his fingers seemed strong, and when her gaze skimmed over his half unbuttoned polo shirt she noticed a vague veil of curly brown hair covering the suntanned skin of his muscled sexy chest.

Myra licked her lips in confusion. He was extremely handsome, this Dutchman with his curly brown hair and special amber eyes.

Unexpectedly, the loudspeaker above her head cracked: "Ladies and gentlemen, the delayed Intercity train to Amsterdam will depart from platform 2-B."

"Gotta go," she said, turning her eyes to him, furtively clearing her throat, "Thanks for the coffee and the booklet."

His piercing gaze penetrated deeply into her eyes, and a strange sensation of lust flashed through Myra's belly.

Out of the blue she longed for his touch, she craved his strong hands on her butt, his warm breath on her skin, his hot kisses on her ...

"Don't take the train," he whispered. "Not this one."

"But I gotta go," she protested.

"No, you gotta come, right?"