“I don’t think I do,” Charlene said, finally speaking out loud what Lauren had felt from her all along.
“Then don’t. They’ll be disappointed, but they’ll accept your decision.”
“I have found my home in Cedar Springs. That’s not going to change.” Though her address had. She’d spent a little time looking, then had paid for a small but beautiful cabin-style home, much like Jake’s, on the opposite side of town. It was perched up in the hills with a view that was beyond spectacular. She was happy, if still smarting from the dissolution of her marriage. Her friends and former acquaintances had been far more supportive and less judgmental than she’d feared. Of course, being two thousand miles away didn’t hurt. And Charlene had discovered that what mattered to her in her old life didn’t amount to as much in the new one. It had helped her move far more swiftly through the healing process…and, Lauren thought, had been a significant part of why she’d so clearly won over the citizens of Cedar Springs.
“However,” Charlene said, covering Lauren’s hand with her own. “I think perhaps you should consider running.”
Lauren stopped, turned. “What? Me? For mayor?” She laughed. “No. I’d run your campaign, and do my best to run your office if you decided to give it a shot, but you know I’m a behind the scenes type.”
Charlene laughed and shook her head. “All this personal growth and you still can’t see the forest.” She tossed her empty snow cone cup in the trash can, then walked up to Lauren and cupped her face with both hands. “You were miserable behind the scenes. You always felt hamstrung on making any real progress. And, yes, Washington can be a very cynic-inducing, jaded-viewpoint world. Cedar Springs isn’t like that. Sure, you have the resort and all of the very real concerns that come with balancing such a huge elephant in the room with the needs of the local, everyday citizen. But, Lauren, you could make a difference here. See, feel, touch, and be a part of the successes you create. For you, and for them. I think they’d be damn lucky to have you. And if they’re as savvy as I think they are, they’ll jump at the chance.” She smiled and leaned up to kiss her daughter on the cheek. “I’d even be your right-hand man. Or woman, as the case may be.”
Lauren stood there, speechless. She’d never even considered it. She’d spent the past month relocating her life from Washington to Cedar Springs. She’d intended to be smart, invest in her own place, allow things to move along slowly with Jake…but after a few weeks where they both acknowledged that where they wanted Lauren to be was under the same roof, preferably Jake’s roof…so they’d just gone with what worked.
Sometimes, you just knew.
And it had been spectacularly good so far.
“What do you think Jake will say?”
“About what?”
She whirled around to find him right behind her, looking ridiculously sexy in his flight suit and pilot-style sunglasses. “Mom thinks I should run for mayor. Please tell her—”
Jake picked her up and spun her around. “About time you figured that out. Half the town council has been chomping at the bit, waiting for Charlene to politely decline—sorry, Charlene,” he said to her, “—but everyone knows you don’t want the job.” He looked back to Lauren. “They’ll go for it, for you.” He kissed her hard on the mouth, then the nose. Put her down, then picked her up and spun her around again. “Are you going to go for it?”
Lauren laughed, completely at a loss on how to handle this sudden turn of events. “I—I don’t know. I guess I have to think about it.”
He put her down and winked at Charlene. “She’s going to be great.”
Charlene beamed proudly. “I know it.”
“The race,” Lauren said. “The finals are less than—” she looked at her watch and blanched. “Shouldn’t you be over there doing…whatever it is you have to do?”
“I am heading that way. Did you see RJ? I told you she was a natural.”
“My stomach is still in my throat, which is convenient since that’s where it’s going to be as soon as you take off in that death rocket. Thank God you don’t do this routinely,” she said.
“No closing your eyes. We’re taking the trophy today and I want you right there with me when they hand it over.”
She smiled. “I’m pretty sure that’s going to be Roger’s spot.”
“You can be on my other side.” He bussed her cheek. “I have to run.”
“Okay.” She kissed and let him go.
Only to have him turn back and pull her into his arms and lay a kiss on her that drew whistles and more than a few cat calls. She blushed but discovered she didn’t mind it in the least. “You know, if I decide to run for mayor, you can’t do things like that in public.”
“Really?” He grinned and tossed her a salute as he started trotting over to his crew, who were now calling for him. “Watch me!” he called back, then disappeared into the throng.
Lauren wasn’t sure if he meant the race…or her future public life. And decided she didn’t care. She and her mother met up with Ruby Jean, then went and watched Jake McKenna bring home the trophy in a heart-stopping race that was as exhilarating as it was terrifying to watch.
And at the press conference afterward, where the trophy was presented…it was Lauren who pulled him into her arms and laid one on him. Much to the delight of the gathered press corps…and everyone back in Cedar Springs, who enjoyed the snapshot of that kiss—with Jake clutching the trophy—when it graced the front page of their newspaper the following Sunday.
Two Sundays later, the front page declared Lauren had officially tossed her hat in the ring.
And two months of Sundays after that…showed a picture of an entirely different ring. The one gracing the left hand of their soon-to-be newly elected mayor and her new husband.
She was wearing a flight suit at the time, one that matched her husband’s, which was appropriate given they celebrated their vows by Lauren taking her first solo takeoff just after the I dos were swapped.
She then proceeded to fly them to a destination known only to the brand-new pilot. She’d been thrilled to pull off such a well-held secret.
And Jake made sure he showed his appreciation to his new wife for her ingenuity and confident flying prowess with some ingenious prowess of his own. “Fly me,” he challenged, laughing as he stripped off her jumpsuit and pulled her down on the wide sea of bed…barely hearing the waves crashing on the shore of their own private island getaway.
She grinned. Rolled him over on his back. And did just that.
Try Dianne Castell’s newest book, HOT AND IRRESISTIBLE, in stores now from Brava…
“Who the hell was that?” McCabe said from behind her.
“And this day just keeps getting better and better.” Bebe turned to face Donovan. “Dara’s none of your business, so forget her.”
“Dara who?” He had his cop stare firmly in place. She hated being on the receiving end of cop stares, because it meant the cop wasn’t budging till he got an answer.
“Dara is my mother-of-the-year. Make that stepmother. There, now you know. Happy? And what are you doing here anyway? Thought we were meeting at the station?”
Donovan’s eyes widened and he let out a soft whistle, his gaze on Dara retreating down the street. “How the hell did that happen?”
“You’re not letting this go, are you?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re a pain in the ass.” But the crack wasn’t as sarcastic as she intended because he wasn’t all pain and he certainly had a nice ass. And right now he was all yummy with his black hair damp from a recent shower and a soft navy shirt and worn jeans hugging lean hips. “I’ll give you the ten-cent version to shut you up. Best I can figure Dara was paid to take me and, no, I don’t know why, and, no, I don’t intend to find out because my real parents must be total scum to sell a kid. And, yes, I did change my name and don’t you dare go feeling sorry for me because I sure as hell don’t need a pity party and now you want to tell me what you
’re doing on my front stoop at this hour?”
Her gaze met his and she braced herself for the Oh, you poor thing look, but instead Donovan bent his head and kissed her. She started to protest, but her lips were busy and suddenly her tongue was, too, and then her arms got into the act and then her insides melted into hot goo, which had acid beat all to hell and back. This kiss was all wrong on every level except one…Donovan McCabe felt so darn good when she was feeling crappy as hell.
And don’t miss Terri Brisbin’s first book for Brava, A STORM OF PASSION, coming next month!
Whatever the Seer wanted, the Seer got, be it for his comfort or his whim or his pleasure.
She stood staring at the chair on the raised dais at one end of the chamber, the chair where he sat when the visions came. From the expression that filled her green eyes, she knew it as well.
Had she witnessed his power? Had she watched as the magic within him exploded into a vision of what was or what would yet be? As he influenced the high and the mighty of the surrounding lands and clans with the truth of his gift? Walking over to stand behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her back to his body.
“I have not seen you before, sweetling,” he whispered into her ear. Leaning down, he smoothed the hair from the side of her face with his own and then touched his tongue to the edge of her ear. “What is your name?”
He felt the shivers travel through her as his mouth tickled her ear. Smiling, he bent down and kissed her neck, tracing the muscle there down to her shoulder with the tip of his tongue. Connor bit the spot gently, teasing it with his teeth and soothing it with his tongue. “Your name?” he asked again.
She arched then, clearly enjoying his touch and ready for more. Her head fell back against his shoulder and he moved his mouth to the soft skin there, kissing and licking his way down and back to her ear. Still she had not spoken.
“When I call out my pleasure, sweetling, what name will I speak?”
He released her shoulders and slid his hands down her arms and then over her stomach to hold her in complete contact with him. Covering her stomach and pressing her to him, he rubbed against her back, letting her feel the extent of his erection—hard and large and ready to pleasure her. Connor moved his hands up to take her breasts in his grasp. Rubbing his thumbs over their tips and teasing them to tightness, he no longer asked, he demanded.
“Tell me your name.”
He felt her breasts swell in his hands and he tugged now on the distended nipples, enjoying the feel and imagining them in his mouth, as he suckled hard on them and as she screamed out her pleasure. But nothing could have pleased him more in that moment than the way she gasped at each stroke he made, over and over until she moaned out her name to him.
“Moira.”
“Moira,” he repeated slowly, drawing her name out until it was a wish in the air around them. “Moira,” he said again as he untied the laces on her bodice and slid it down her shoulders until he could touch her skin. “Moira,” he now moaned as the heat and the scent of her enticed him as much as his own scent was pulling her under his control.
Connor paused for a moment, releasing her long enough to drag his tunic over his head and then turning her into his embrace. He inhaled sharply as her skin touched his, the heat of it seared into his soul as the tightened peaks of her breasts pressed against his chest. Her added height brought her hips level almost to his and he rubbed his hardened cock against her stomach, letting her feel the extent of his arousal.
As he pushed her hair back off her shoulders, he realized that in addition to the raging lust in his blood, there was something else there, teasing him with its presence.
Anticipation.
For the first time in years, this felt like more than the mindless rutting that happened between him and the countless, nameless women there for his needs. For the first time in too long, this was not simply scratching an itch, for the hint of something more seemed to stand off in the distance, something tantalizing and unknown and something somehow tied to this woman.
He lifted her chin with his finger, forcing her gaze off the blasted chair and onto his face. Instead of the compliant gaze that usually met him, the clarity of her gold-flecked green eyes startled him. Connor did something he’d not done before, something he never needed to do—he asked her permission.
“I want you, Moira,” he whispered, dipping to touch and taste her lips for the first time. Connor slid his hand down to gather up her skirts, baring her legs and the treasure between them to his touch and his sight. “Let me?”
Be on the lookout for
THE MANE SQUEEZE from Shelly Laurenston,
out now from Brava…
The salmon were everywhere, leaping from the water and right into the open maws of bears. But he ruled this piece of territory and those salmon were for him and him alone. He opened his mouth and a ten-pound one leaped right into it. Closing his jaws, he sighed in pleasure. Honey-covered. He loved honey-covered salmon!
This was his perfect world. A cold river, happy-to-die-for-his-survival salmon, and honey. Lots and lots of honey…
What could ever be better? What could ever live up to this? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
A salmon swam up to him. He had no interest, he was still working on the honey-covered one. The salmon stared at him intently…almost glaring.
“Hey!” it called out. “Hey! Can you hear me?”
Why was this salmon ruining his meal? He should kill it and save it for later. Or toss it to one of the females with cubs. Anything to get this obviously Philadelphia salmon to shut the hell up!
“Answer me!” the salmon ordered loudly. “Open your eyes and answer me! Now!”
His eyes were open, weren’t they?
Apparently not because someone pried his lids apart and stared into his face. And wow, was she gorgeous!
“Can you hear me? He didn’t answer, he was too busy staring at her. So pretty!
“Come on, Paddington. Answer me.”
He instinctively snarled at the nickname and she smiled in relief. “What’s the matter?” she teased. “You don’t like Paddington? Such a cute, cuddily, widdle bear.”
“Nothing’s wrong with cute pet names…Mr. Mittens.”
She straightened, her hands on her hips and those long, expertly manicured nails drumming restlessly against those narrow hips.
“Mister?” she snapped.
“Paddington?” he shot back.
She gave a little snort. “Okay. Fair enough. But call me Gwen. I never did get a chance to tell you my name at the wedding.”
Oh! He remembered her now. The feline he’d found himself daydreaming about on more than one occasion in the two months since Jess’s wedding. And…wow. She was naked. She looked really good naked…
He blinked, knowing that he was staring at that beautiful, strong body. Focus on something else! Anything else! You’re going to creep her out!
“You have tattoos,” he blurted. Bracelet tatts surrounded both her biceps. A combination of black shamrocks and a dark-green Chinese symbol he didn’t know the meaning of. And on her right hip she had a black Chinese dragon holding a Celtic cross in its mouth. It was beautiful work. Intricate. “Are they new?”
“Nah. I just covered up the ones on my arms with makeup, for the wedding. With my mother, I’d be noticed enough. Didn’t want to add to that.” She gestured at him with her hand. “Now we know I’m Gwen and I have tattoos…so do you have a name?”
“Yeah, sure. I’m…” He glanced off, racking his brain.
“You don’t remember your name?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“I know it has something to do with security.” He stared at her thoughtfully, then snapped his fingers. “Lock.”
“Lock? Your name is Lock?”
“I think. Lock. Lock…Lachlan! MacRyrie!” He glanced off again. “I think.”
“Christ.”
“No need to get snippy. It’s my name I can’t remember.” He nodded. “I
’m pretty positive it’s Lock…something.”
“MacRyrie.”
“Okay.”
She gave a small, frustrated growl and placed the palms of her hands against her eyes. He stared at her painted nails. “Are those the team colors of the Philadelphia Flyers?”
“Don’t start,” she snapped.
“Again with the snippy? I was only asking.”
Lock slowly pushed himself up a bit, noticing for the first time that they’d traveled to a much more shallow part of the river. The water barely came to his waist. She started to say something, but shook her head and looked away. He didn’t mind. He didn’t need conversation at the moment, he needed to figure out where he was.
A river, that’s where he was. Unfortunately, not his dream river. The one with the honey-covered salmon that willingly leaped into his mouth. A disappointing realization—it always felt so real until he woke up—but he was still happy that he’d survived the fall.
Lock used his arms to push himself up all the way so he could sit.
“Be careful,” she finally said. “We fell from up there.”
He looked at where she pointed, ignoring how much pain the slight move caused, and flinched when he saw how far down they were.
“Although we were farther up river, I think.”
“Damn,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
“How bad is it?”
“It’ll be fine.” Closing his eyes, Lock bent his head to one side, then the other. The sound of cracking bones echoed and when he opened his eyes, he saw that pretty face cringing.
“See?” he said. “Better already.”
“If you say so.”
She took several awkward steps back so she could sit down on a large boulder.
“You’re hurt,” he informed her.
“Yeah. I am.” She extended her leg, resting it on a small boulder in front of her and let out a breath, her eyes shutting. “I know it’s healing, but, fuck, it hurts.”
A Great Kisser Page 41