At a stoplight, I remember seeing a watch slide down the wrist of a man on a motorcycle and I was fascinated by the movement.
So how did that translate into my novel?
Falling in love with a shadow, a whisper of husky voice or laughter softer than silk, was impossible.
But when he saw the flash of a wrist move in the hallway beyond the door, saw the bracelet slide and heard the innocence, he didn't care that he hadn't believed in love until that moment. —To Win a Wallflower