Nothing like an unconscious doppelgänger to ruin a perfectly good day at the Mystery Spot.
Robyn Craine has two loves: her Harley and the Mystery Spot, the Black Hills tourist attraction she bought with funds from her late mother’s estate, an inheritance that included a generous gift from billionaire Harold Hopewell. With a chance-of-a-lifetime expansion in the works, Robyn doesn’t have time to babysit the handsome Sentinel Passtime actor who shows up to do “research”–especially when she figures out his connection to the wealthy businessman/politician trying to sabotage her new project.
Liam Temple has no intention of falling for a Black Hills local. His agent has Liam’s breakout, big budget movie deal lined up. Even though Liam likes his current Sentinel Passtime gig, he promised his late sister he’d win a Golden Globe by thirty-five. The last thing he needs is the distraction of a feisty, Harley-riding tourist trap owner caught in Liam’s father’s crosshairs for buying a hunk of land Richard Marston thinks belongs to him. But when Robyn’s lookalike stunt double is attacked, Liam recognizes his father’s MO and Liam makes keeping Robyn safe his first priority.
Her grin brought her face to life in a way that grabbed him by the heart. Her lips, reddened from the cold and from licking a dab of chocolate from the raisins, were totally kissable. Inviting. His mouth watered and his fingers tingled from wanting to touch her.
Uh-oh. Not cool. No kissing.
He got up and brushed off the seat of his pants with far more theater than needed. Feeling her puzzled gaze on him, he grabbed the first distraction he could find. “Sun’s out. Wow. That was fast.”
She pulled out her phone. “Do you want me to take a shot of you?”
“Let’s do a selfie.”
She made a face. “I’m really bad at those.”
“I’ve done a million. Give me your phone.”
He took his time positioning her to give them the best backdrop then sidled up close and put his free arm around her shoulders. He liked the way she fit against him. He liked the strong, firm muscles he felt tense beneath his arm. She wasn’t completely comfortable with this closeness, he could tell, but he liked it a lot. Too much.
He extended his right arm, camera ready to go. “Okay. Smile for the masses.”
He pictured her rolling her eyes at that so he snapped a couple of extra. When she started to move away, he tightened his grip. “Wait. One more for me, only.”
He turned his head, leaned down and kissed her obviously unsuspecting lips. The electric spark that connected the instant their lips touched nearly made him drop the phone, but somehow he remembered to click the exposure before she pushed him away.
“What was that for? Blackmail?”
“How can I blackmail you? It’s your phone.”
“Oh. Right.” Her cheeks flushed red and he fell a little deeper in love. Not real love, but the real in-this-moment sort. The kind he manufactured effortlessly for the big and small screen.
“But I’d really appreciate it if you’d send me a copy. Will you?”
She grabbed the phone and stuffed it in her pocket. “Maybe. I’m not comfortable kissing strangers.”
“We’re not strangers. We know each other’s life stories. I told you about my sister and I never talk about her in interviews.”
Billionaire Harold Hopewell traveled the world, encountering people and letting their stories touch him. In death, he is giving back, leaving an unusual will filled with life-altering bequests to the people he met along the way. Read the Inheritance Series, and let their stories touch you.
I hope you love this story as much as I do. And thank you, thank you, thank you, for remembering to leave a review!
BLACK HILLS BILLIONAIRE, Black Hills Rendezvous Book 2
Meet Shane and Jenna. Two lost souls who came soooo close to meeting, falling in love and living a fabulous life until something unthinkable happened, until a dark force ruined everything.
Now, they’ve been given a second chance–if Shane can get past the guilt he carries from a deathbed promise he made.
So, when is a first kiss not a kiss? When you’re in the Mystery Spot.
“As you can see, this was the bedroom. We’ve removed the furniture to avoid injury, but just imagine what a nightmare it must have been to sleep in a room that seems to be constantly shifting from side to side. We call this the dizzy room for a reason, so don’t be surprised if a stranger is suddenly holding on to you for balance.”
She took a deep breath and walked straight to the middle of the room. Almost instantly, her equilibrium went haywire. She stepped on what looked like a level surface and felt her foot drop a quarter of an inch. Just enough to throw her balance off. She staggered, which prompted Shane to dash into the room.
“Watch out,” she warned.
He weaved to the left like a drunk after a long night at a bar. “Holy crap,” he muttered. “What the he–?”
She grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to the wall. He looked slightly dazed. “Wow. What is it?”
“You’d have to ask my dad. Unfortunately, I think the secret went to the grave with him. All I know is it’s very effective. I’ve seen people bob and weave all the way back to their car. I’ve done this tour so often I barely feel it unless I’m in the middle of the room.”
He put a hand to his forehead. “I’ve got the spinners. Like those nights in college when you drank too much then lay down in bed and the ceiling was going around in circles.”
College.
He looked at her so intently she realized she must have said the word aloud.
“Sorry. Wrong thing to say.”
She shook her head. “It was a long time ago. Shall we finish the tour? There’s an exit through the back, but since I have to lock up, I think we should go out the way we came in.”
His usual serious look was back on his face. He nodded and pushed off from the wall to lead the way. He only made it a few steps before listing sideways, like the Titanic after meeting the iceberg. She tried to keep him upright, but his momentum was too great. They both staggered a few steps then crashed into the wall. The wall with the drawing of a four-poster with a patchwork quilt on it, and they landed smack dab in the middle of the one-dimensional mattress.
“This was your plan all along, right?” Shane asked, wrapping his arms around her to keep steady. “To get me in bed?”
She laughed to keep her panic at bay, but to her surprise she didn’t feel the usual fear that came when someone got too close, too fast. In fact, she liked the feeling of being in his arms. Warm. Secure. Protected.
“I’ve seen the same thing happen to other people. Perfect strangers. Dad used to say it was all about a person’s polarity-–positive and negative.”
His eyes were such a deep, yummy brown. Like chocolate syrup. “Does that mean one of us is a magnet and the other iron filings?”
She knew which she’d be. “Maybe we’re both iron filings being drawn to the giant magnet in the wall.”
He arched his neck to look over his shoulder, his skepticism clearly back in place. Laughing, she put her hands flat against his chest and pushed back. She waited for her balance to return, the way it usually did, but if anything, she was even loopier. Her hands wouldn’t leave his shirt. Her breath was shallow and shaky. Because she knew he was going to kiss her.
Kiss. His mouth touching her mouth. No. She didn’t kiss. Or touch. Or… But no words of protest made it out before his lips touched hers.
BLACK HILLS STRANGER, Black Hills Rendezvous, Book 9
His last resort.
Jonas Galloway’s daughter is missing. He returned from active duty in Afghanistan to find his ex-wife had joined a cult and taken their seven-year-old with her. The group disappeared off the grid and Jonas has exhausted all leads. His only hope is to convince his old high school flame, Remy Bouchard, to use her “gift” to find Birdie. Remy may doubt her abilities, but Jonas never has. After all, she found him once and saved his life. He’s praying she can do the same for Birdie.
Her so-called gift.
Remy’s only back in Louisiana to close up her old family home and say goodbye to the past. She plans to reinvent herself in the Black Hills of South Dakota, and nothing Jonas, the ex-love-of-her-life, says is going to change that. Until he shows her a photo of his daughter. A little girl who looks like the child in her dream. A desperate soul on the verge of giving up. But if what Remy’s late mother said is true, then Remy could be the biggest mistake of Jonas’s life.
“No. If the cops decide to treat this as a kidnapping, they won’t even want me involved in the investigation. Trust me, police and civilian investigators don’t mix.”
She crossed her arms and shrugged. “Maybe I’ll wander downtown and let some handsome tourist buy me a hurricane.” She named the highest-octane alcoholic abomination she could think of. She’d tried one once and got disgustingly sick. She drummed her fingers on one cheek, theatrically. “Yes, it’s true that an excess of alcohol can interfere with the brain’s usual nighttime activities such as dreaming, but…” She let the implication hang.
“We’re arguing about going to a place you may or may not dream about.” He let out a snarky hoot. “Is it just me? Or does that strike you as nuts?”
“Are suggesting I’m crazy?”
“Absolutely not. I know crazy. But you are slightly cracked.”
She couldn’t say for certain whose scowl gave way to a smile first, but a second later they were both laughing. And a second after that, kissing.
She wanted to blame the Kraken—or the intensity of the situation—but she wasn’t a liar. She’d been thinking about kissing him from the moment he showed up on her doorstep.
He broke it off, first. “Damn. I promised myself I wasn’t going to do that.”
“Me, too,” she said, touching her fingers to her lips. She’d kissed a dozen boys and men over the years but not a single one had left the sort of impression on her mouth as Jonas Galloway.
He sighed weightily. “Jessie was right. The lust between us is like our invisible pet elephant–it takes up all this space and we waste a mountain of energy trying to ignore it.”
“Well said. I couldn’t agree more. The damn thing went on every date I ever had, too, after we broke up. Voyeuristic beast,” she muttered under her breath. “You think three in one bed is crowded, you should try it with an invisible elephant.”
Oops. TMI. Too much information.
~~~
BLACK HILLS STRANGER is available at these vendors:
BLACK HILLS RANCHER, Black Hills Rendezvous, Book 8
The last thing Cade Garrity expected when he went to Sentinel Pass to meet Jessie Bouchard—a prospective, short-term tenant willing to trade a little childcare in return for a discounted rent—was to save her life. But the video her twin sister, Remy, shot doesn’t lie. And the fact that the nutcase who booby-trapped Jessie’s stunt is still on the loose makes it impossible for Cade to turn his back on her. But Cade married a woman who put satisfying her need for excitement ahead of her family–ahead of him–and it killed her. He’s not going down that road again no matter how much he desires Jessie Bouchard.
Despite what people think, Jessie does not have a death wish. She learned at a young age the only way to handle pain and fear was to face it head on. That’s what she does. And she’s convinced herself that living for the moment is enough–until she meets Cade and his daughter, Shiloh. There may be more to life than that next death-defying stunt, but does she deserve the kind of life Cade has to offer? She isn’t sure, and unless she finds the person who is trying to kill her, she won’t get a chance to answer that question.
She stopped moving away from him. “I’m not easy.” She blanched and added quickly, “I don’t mean sexually. I mean, in general. But you have a daughter and I…I have my career.”
“So, we keep those things separate.”
He reached out to touch the side of her face. “Neither of those excuses is good enough to keep me from kissing you. Got any better ones?”
He looked into her eyes and waited, watching for his answer. Her lips parted…and smiled. “Not really.”
“Good.” Then he leaned over to press his lips to hers. Soft and warm. Nice. Very nice. But salty.
As if reading his mind, she pulled back and licked her lips. “You taste like sea water.”
Which, apparently, wasn’t a bad thing because she moved closer and kissed him again, lips parted this time, welcoming his tongue to explore and parry. The deeper he explored, the sweeter she tasted. Root beer and ice cream sweet. Jessie Bouchard sweet.
He broke it off because his body started telling him it was more than happy to take things to the next level. Whoa. Not so fast, he silently cautioned. One step at a time. He didn’t know for certain he could pull off a casual, summer fling, no strings attached. But he sure as heck wanted to consider the option.
“Nice,” he said taking a step back.
“It was.” She sounded surprised. “You’re a good kisser. And here you gave me the impression you were out of practice.”
He could tell she was teasing, but he definitely didn’t want to talk about his dating disasters of late. He hadn’t gone out with anyone since arriving in South Dakota. In part, because he’d come to the conclusion that single fathers of a certain age should never let their friends or family set them up on blind dates.
“I haven’t roped for ten years, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how.”
He made a scoffing sound. “Good grief, no. I stay as far away from the Sentinel Passtime people as possible. I’m sure they’re nice enough, but their energy is enervating.”
Books. Art. Silk. Vocabulary words. She searched his face but nothing came to her. His beard was starting to fluff out again as it dried. His hair had filled in around his face covering his ears. He was starting to look more like the Rufus she knew.
“Listen, Rachel, I’m sorry about the peep show. I didn’t expect you for a couple of hours. I needed to think, and I do my best thinking in a bath. The house design didn’t lend itself to an indoor tub and I don’t like the cold well enough to sit in one outside in the winter, so I had the copper tub made. I call it my Saturday night special,” he said, a sort of self-deprecating humor in his tone.
She knew he bathed more often than once a week. “Today’s Tuesday.”
“I know. Like I said, I needed to think.”
Now, the humor was gone and something faintly foreboding seemed to linger in the air. “You’re pulling the plug on your Web site, aren’t you?”
“Not the sales part, but everything else,” he admitted.
She’d sensed his growing disenchantment with the whole online-community concept, but she’d ignored his concerns in favor of what she thought best for him. Shades of Mom, Jack would have said.
“Then, I guess we’re done here,” she said, trying to salvage a scrap of pride. She started toward where he was standing, intending to leave. He didn’t need her. No one did. Not really.
“Rachel,” he said, his voice low and conflicted. He stepped to the left to block her way. His large, warm hand closed around her forearm when she tried to push him aside. “You’re wrong about that.”
Then he pulled her to him, his arms enclosing her in a cocoon of warmth that made her think she might be in the middle of one of his Dreamhouses. Safe and secure.
His kiss was not at all what she was expecting. Soft, gentle and far too proper—at first. When she tilted her head and leaned into him, his reaction matched hers. Their tongues got involved. Their breathing changed. Her hands were touching—or were they gripping?—his massive shoulders.
She’d wanted to do that since day one. As wrong as it was, she’d never experienced anything that felt so right—even the odd, cushiony texture of his beard. She wanted more. Everything. Every inch of that gorgeous body she’d seen in the water.
At what price, Rachel? Her mother’s voice. You mixed business and pleasure once before and look how well that turned out.
BLACK HILLS RANCHER, Black Hills Rendezvous, Book 8
The last thing Cade Garrity expected when he went to Sentinel Pass to meet Jessie Bouchard—a prospective, short-term tenant willing to trade a little childcare in return for a discounted rent—was to save her life. But the video her twin sister, Remy, shot doesn’t lie. And the fact that the nutcase who booby-trapped Jessie’s stunt is still on the loose makes it impossible for Cade to turn his back on her. But Cade married a woman who put satisfying her need for excitement ahead of her family–ahead of him–and it killed her. He’s not going down that road again no matter how much he desires Jessie Bouchard.
Despite what people think, Jessie does not have a death wish. She learned at a young age the only way to handle pain and fear was to face it head on. That’s what she does. And she’s convinced herself that living for the moment is enough–until she meets Cade and his daughter, Shiloh. There may be more to life than that next death-defying stunt, but does she deserve the kind of life Cade has to offer? She isn’t sure, and unless she finds the person who is trying to kill her, she won’t get a chance to answer that question.
She stopped moving away from him. “I’m not easy.” She blanched and added quickly, “I don’t mean sexually. I mean, in general. But you have a daughter and I…I have my career.”
“So, we keep those things separate.”
He reached out to touch the side of her face. “Neither of those excuses is good enough to keep me from kissing you. Got any better ones?”
He looked into her eyes and waited, watching for his answer. Her lips parted…and smiled. “Not really.”
“Good.” Then he leaned over to press his lips to hers. Soft and warm. Nice. Very nice. But salty.
As if reading his mind, she pulled back and licked her lips. “You taste like sea water.”
Which, apparently, wasn’t a bad thing because she moved closer and kissed him again, lips parted this time, welcoming his tongue to explore and parry. The deeper he explored, the sweeter she tasted. Root beer and ice cream sweet. Jessie Bouchard sweet.
He broke it off because his body started telling him it was more than happy to take things to the next level. Whoa. Not so fast, he silently cautioned. One step at a time. He didn’t know for certain he could pull off a casual, summer fling, no strings attached. But he sure as heck wanted to consider the option.
“Nice,” he said taking a step back.
“It was.” She sounded surprised. “You’re a good kisser. And here you gave me the impression you were out of practice.”
He could tell she was teasing, but he definitely didn’t want to talk about his dating disasters of late. He hadn’t gone out with anyone since arriving in South Dakota. In part, because he’d come to the conclusion that single fathers of a certain age should never let their friends or family set them up on blind dates.
“I haven’t roped for ten years, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how.”
Tomorrow I have a wonderful promo with Robin Reads for BLACK HILLS BABY. If you’re a recipient of that excellent newsletter and have the chance to share the news, I’d be so grateful.
“I’m glad you came here tonight, Daria. I like you. I enjoyed talking with you. You’re probably the most honest, self-attuned, real person I know.”
“What about Libby?”
“She’s spoken for.”
And I’m not, she thought with a bright, glittery burst of joy. I’m free. Available. Sort of.
She looked at his lips. His perfect, masculine, desirable lips. “You know the baggage we brought with us on your plane is only part of the package, right?”
William put his arms around her and carefully eased her closer, as if expecting her to bolt. Which she should have. Would have, if she’d been listening to the sensible advice she’d read in a dozen or so women’s magazines over the past few months. But those writers’ voices were drowned out by the girlish thrill of sharing a first kiss with the handsomest man she’d ever known.
And why the heck shouldn’t I? He’s flying away in the morning. I’ll probably never see him again. If not now, when?
The last justification—a popular slogan adopted by several politicians she knew—made her smile. William seemed to take that as yes. With one hand he lifted her chin as he slowly lowered his head.
His lips were soft and warm, gentle but persistent, coaxing her to respond. Hormones, pheromones, whatevermones flooded her desert-dry senses. She not only kissed him back, she leaned into him, pressing close enough to feel every button on his shirt, the well-formed shape of his chest, and the ribs, sinew and muscle under his skin.
She opened her mouth and touched her tongue to his. Doing so felt bold, impulsive and gratifying beyond words. He tasted like the honey he’d added to his tea. He tasted new and novel and very, very good.
His tongue made tentative inquiries at first but quickly left politeness behind and explored her mouth as only a stranger would. A stranger. That’s what he was.
She jerked back with a gasp. “Oh! That was so not supposed to happen.” She swallowed hard, still tasting his sweetness. “In fact, it didn’t happen. It was a dream. Dreams aren’t real.”
He placed both hands on her shoulders, more to steady her than hold her in place. “I’ve been working in Hollywood for half my adult life, and believe me, I know the difference between make-believe and reality. That kiss was real.”
She turned sideways to dislodge his hands. “I’ve never even been to Hollywood.”
He seemed amused by her non sequitur. “I also have a fair knowledge of timing, and this was not well-scripted. For that I apologize. Not for the kiss, mind you. That was quite lovely, and I shall treasure it always.”
She couldn’t decide if he was being gallant or joking around. That was the problem with kissing a stranger, she decided, as he escorted her to her grandfather’s old sedan—you have no barometer to go by.
“Sleep well, Daria,” he said, dropping a friendly peck near the corner of her lips. “I’ll run the tape back to you in the morning unless you need me before then. You have my number.”
He remained standing in the driveway the entire time she backed up and slowly maneuvered her way between the snow banks. He was still there when she turned onto the street and stepped on the gas. The guy didn’t have a jacket on. That made him either crazy or inured to the cold weather.
Her bet was on the former. After all, he’d kissed her, hadn’t he? A not-quite-divorced divorcée with two kids, no alimony, no job, no nothing.
The man was interesting. Intriguing. Sexy as hell, and a great kisser. But he was right about their timing. It sucked big time, as Miranda would have said. And that’s all there was to it.
Rachel stood in the doorway of the kitchen and sipped her glass of water as she watched Rufus charm his miniature audience. He’d removed his tie an hour or so earlier and opened his pristine white shirt collar a few buttons. She didn’t understand why she found that glimpse of flesh so provocative, but she did. So much so, in fact, she’d made up an excuse about needing a drink of water simply to give herself some breathing space.
“Your date seems to like children,” a voice observed. Rachel started. Her mom-radar must have malfunctioned.
“They seem to like him, too,” Rachel returned cautiously, wondering where this conversation would lead. Nowhere good, she was sure.
“I wonder why that is,” Mom said. “Perhaps because he’s a bit…simple?”
Rachel put the glass to her mouth and forced herself to drink. It was that or scream. And she couldn’t scream because her father never would have allowed it. The man worshipped his wife and let her get away with all sorts of small cruelties.
“You’re basing your judgment on what? A two-second conversation?”
“I asked around. People who drop out of society, as he did, usually do so for a reason, Rachel. Do you know what that reason is?”
No. “He’s my client, Mom. I’m on a need-to-know basis, and his personal life is something I don’t need to know—as long as he pays my bill. I invited him tonight because I thought his business would benefit from the local exposure.”
Rachel was pleased by how logical and composed she sounded. For a minute, she thought her mother bought it.
Mom shook her perfectly coifed head. “Don’t kid yourself, Rachel. You’re attracted to him. And, with good reason. He’s quite handsome. But I thought you told me you’d learned your lesson where handsome men were concerned? I believe your exact words included hook nose and bald.”
Rachel set her glass on an antique sideboard then crossed her arms. “I may have said something to that effect, but, Mother, surely you’re not labeling all handsome men as cheating scoundrels who can’t keep their dicks in their pants. I could point out half a dozen hunks in this room—including your son—and each one is a faithful, trustworthy and decent human being who loves his wife and knows how to honor his marriage vows.”
“There’s no reason to be crude, Rachel. All I’m saying is you need to look beyond the superficial. You have a tendency to jump in to everything with both feet. In a relationship, by the time you discover how shallow the man is, something’s broken.”
Rachel gave her mother credit for creating an apropos metaphor. She’d been fighting an attraction toward this man since that first day. But what did she know about him? She hadn’t known he was drop-dead gorgeous. Or good with kids. Or even that he owned a suit.
“There you are,” a deep voice said, taking both women by surprise. Rufus leaned in and brushed a quick, micro-kiss on Rachel’s lips. “Sorry. Those kids are great. Jordie reminds me of my little brother when he was that age.”
Rachel had to fight to keep from touching the spot he’d kissed. “N…no problem,” she stuttered. “Mom and I were catching up. She’s just returned from Florida.”
“Florida…,” he said, reaching up to touch his ear. “I used to own a condo in Miami.”
His obviously unconscious gesture made her realize something was different between his right ear and his left. She didn’t have time to dwell on the fact because she could tell by her mother’s skeptical snort that Mom didn’t believe him.
Escape, her brain cried. They needed to leave now before Mom said something really humiliating. “Rufus, if you want, we could take off.”
He smiled at her warmly, then lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She was almost certain her knees weren’t going to hold her, but then he turned to Mom and said, “Not yet. I haven’t had a chance to talk to your mother. I spotted a quiet nook near the stairs…”
There was a hint of “I dare you” in his tone, and Rachel had never known her mother to walk away from a challenge.
Mom passed Rachel her highball glass—Jack Daniels neat. “Very well.”
As polite as any gentleman she’d ever met, Rufus escorted her mother out of sight. Rachel took a sip of the booze in her mother’s glass, despite the fact she hated whiskey.
“What’s going on?”
Coughing slightly, she glanced to her left to find her brother and future sister-in-law peering out of the kitchen. “I don’t know. Mom and Rufus are talking. I’m pretty sure neither is armed, but you might want to put your finger on 9-1-1 speed dial just in case.”
Last week I shared a snippet from my book, MONTANA COWGIRL. Today, you’ll be happy to see snippets from my co-authors, Melissa McClone and Alissa Callen. If you’re a NOOK reader, here’s your chance to grab three heart-warming stories for under a buck apiece! If you don’t have a Nook, you can still buy these books individually from the vendor of your choice (just not in a bundle). See below.
From CHERISH ME, COWBOY:
“Come on, who says I don’t ever have any fun?”
Payton’s eyes shone with such golden life, her smile contained such uninhibited joy, all Cordell could do was nod and follow. Getting wet was a small price to pay for stealing a few brief minutes with the cowgirl in a swirling and surreal world. When the clouds parted and the rain stopped, reality would return. He’d have a promise to keep and a city existence to return to.
Within seconds, he was saturated. Water seeped through his cotton T-shirt and ran down the back of his neck. But as cold as the water was, the feel of Patyon’s fingers entwined with his, heated his blood. Thunder boomed followed by an almost instantaneous lightning flash. The storm was almost directly overhead. Knowing the wind would steal his words, he tugged her toward the porch. Again, she shook her head. Baxter, his tail between his legs, fled to the safety of his dry kennel.
Thunder again roared. Cordell snagged Payton’s slender waist and slung her over his shoulder. He reached the porch just before a jagged bolt splintered the sky.
Chest heaving, he firmed his hold on the back of her knees as he readied himself to return her to the ground. Cool air brushed his lower back and stomach. Payton must have gripped the bottom of his T-shirt to balance herself and had pulled it midway up his torso. He carefully took her weight and lowered her to the porch floorboards. But as he did so her full breasts pressed against his chest and her bare skin slid against his. He bit back a groan. The wet friction between the cotton of his shirt and her tank top had caused her own shirt hem to ride upward. There was now nothing between their naked midriffs but the wet lick of water.
His hands moved to her waist to steady her as her feet touched the ground. Beneath the pads of his fingers, he could feel the jut of her hips and the ripple of goosebumps over her soft skin. He fought for control. She’d be mad at being slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain. It would be okay. She’d tell him off and step away before he did something they’d both regret.
She didn’t move.
The soundtrack of the storm’s fury dulled to a whisper.
Every breath she took pushed her chest closer to his. Every breath he took threatened to shatter his self-control. When had she laced her hands around his neck? Another three seconds, and he’d be finishing what they’d started in his parked truck.
He didn’t even make it to two.
His mouth covered hers. She tasted of rain and sweetness and smelt of summer and mountain wildflowers. As she stood on tip-toe to match his hunger, the sky could have caved in over him and he wouldn’t have cared.
As much as she took, he gave. And as much as he asked for, she granted.
Her hands unclasped from behind his neck and slid over his water-slicked abs and under his T-shirt. He shuddered, knowing he was exposed but powerless to hide how she moved him and what she made him feel.
“Payton,” he groaned as they came up for air. “I can’t hurt you. I can’t stay.”
“I know,” she said, before again fusing her mouth with his.
His hands found the neat curve of her butt and pulled her even closer. This time she was the one who spoke as they drew apart to breathe.
“Please, tell me you’re feeling.”
“Oh, I’m feeling all right,” he growled as he plundered the delicate line of her soft throat.
“Good, because if you’re feeling, as per our talk the other night, that means I need to learn to accept help.” He’d never seen her eyes so luminous or heard her voice so breathless. She jumped and he caught her as she wrapped her slim legs around his waist. “And I think I’ll start by you helping me get out of these wet clothes.”
The sun disappeared beneath the horizon. Darkness surrounded them. Zack didn’t care. Charlie didn’t seem to either.
A good thing. She was his lifeline, his way back to the civilian world, a place he felt disconnected from at the moment. He talked, and she held his hand. He cried, and she comforted him.
She wiped away his tears with her fingertips.
Embarrassed, he looked away.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
No, it wasn’t, but if she could pretend, so could he.
Charlie sighed. “I wish…”
Her compassionate tone made Zack look up. The lantern glowed softly, giving off enough light so he could see her face.
She leaned forward, toward him. The connection between them intensified. He came closer, driven by an urge he shouldn’t be feeling. Not with Charlie.
Zack stared into blue eyes filled with empathy, wanted to know what she wished and was about to ask…
She kissed him.
A kiss so tender and sweet, Zack knew she’d been heaven-sent to get him through this night. He didn’t plan on kissing her back—that would be against his rule—but she wasn’t stopping.
I’m so excited to be part of this great Mother’s Day Bundle from Tule Publishing. If you–or MOM–is a NOOK reader, here’s your chance to grab three heart-warming stories for under a buck apiece!
I’m a big fan of forgiveness and second chances. Most people would give Paul and Bailey ZERO chance of making up for past hurts and heartbreak, but, sometimes, love can beat the odds.
From MONTANA COWGIRL:
She opened the door and carefully lowered her good foot to the ground. The ache in her ankle was back, but she’d be damned if she’d play the cripple in front of Paul.
“I can take one of those,” she said, meeting him at the tailgate of the truck.
He pulled the bigger of the two out first, setting it on the sidewalk. His muscles really were quite impressive, she realized. Wishing she had some reason to touch him.
The idea unnerved her. When he suggested she let him make two trips, she didn’t argue. She needed some distance, a little down time. Right now.
“Do you have the key?” Paul called out as he dashed up the ramp, the first of her giant suitcases in tow.
“I don’t think Mom’s ever locked the door in my entire life.”
He tested the handle. Sure enough, it swung inward. He wrestled the ungainly, soft-sided suitcase across the threshold then dashed past her for its mate.
She’d barely stepped inside when her phone rang. Mom.
“Hi. We just got here.”
“Wonderful. I have more good news. Oscar’s doctor is letting him go home today. The discharge papers will probably take an hour or two, we’ll be there in time to have dinner together.”
Today?
“Great.”
“You should invite Paul to join us. To thank him for picking you up.”
“Really, Mom? Do you think that’s a good idea? Dad’s first night out of the hospital? He and I haven’t seen each other in a couple of years. Maybe we should keep it family for awhile.”
“Oh, of course. You’re right. What was I thinking? We’ll do something nice for Paul later on. I have to go. The nurse wants Oscar to shower before he leaves since we don’t have that kind of equipment at home yet. See you soon, honey. I’m so glad you’re here.”
A few seconds later, Paul lugged her other ridiculously over-weight bag across the threshold.
“We have rocks in Montana, Bailey. You didn’t have to bring your own from California.”
She tried to smile, but the erratic thudding of her heart interfered with normal reactions.
Paul cocked his head. “What’s up?”
She shoved her phone in her bag. “OC is being released today. They’ll be here soon.”
She took a step, planning to make some effort to appear the gracious hostess. Unfortunately, her ankle locked and she lunged off balance, grazing her hip on the side of her father’s worn leather recliner.
Paul pivoted as precisely as Daz “heeling” in the arena. He caught her elbow and stepped in to help her regain her balance.
Close enough to smell his cologne and see the tiny strips of facial hair his razor missed. Close enough to kiss the lips that looked more familiar than they should have.
What the hell was wrong with her? This man hated her, cursed her, and she dropped into his arms like some stupid damsel in distress?
