Here Comes Trouble

by Donna Kauffman

  If you liked this book,

  you’ve got to try Mary Wine’s

  IN THE WARRIOR’S BED,

  out now from Brava!

  She was a fool.

  Bronwyn felt her heart freeze, because the man was huge. The hilt of his sword reflected the last of the daylight. His stallion was a good two hands taller than her mare. It could run her down with no trouble at all. Worse yet, the man wore the kilt of the McJames clan. With her father and brothers raiding their land, he had no reason to treat her kindly. His body was cut with hard muscles, and where his shirt sleeves were rolled up, she saw the evidence that spoke of his firsthand knowledge and skill with that sword. She scanned the ridge above him quickly, fearing that the McJameses had decided to repay her father’s raids by doing a few themselves.

  But there was no one in the fading light. Her teeth worried her lower lip as she returned her attention to him. She’d never considered that a McJames warrior might enjoy an afternoon ride the same as she.

  “Good day to ye, lass.” His voice was deep and edged with playfulness. He reached up and tugged on the corner of his knitted bonnet, a half smile curving his lips. His light-colored hair brushing his wide shoulders, a single thin braid running down along the side of his face to keep it out of his eyes. He wore only a leather doublet over his shirt and the sleeves of the doublet were hanging behind him. There was a majestic quality to him. One that was mesmerizing. Her brother Keir was a very large man and she wasn’t used to meeting men who measured up to his size. This one did. He radiated strength from his booted feet to his blond hair. There was nothing small or weak about him. In his presence she felt petite, something she was unaccustomed to. Almost as though she noticed that she was a woman and that her body was fashioned to fit against his male one.

  “Good day.”

  She had no idea why she spoke to him. It was an impulse. A shiver raced down her back. Her eyes widened, heat stinging her cheeks, her mouth suddenly dry. A shudder shook her gently, surprising her. Beneath her doublet, her nipples tingled, the sensation unnerving.

  His gaze touched on her face, witnessing the scarlet stain creeping across it. A flicker of heat entered his eyes. It was bold but something inside her enjoyed knowing that she sparked such a look in him.

  “It’s a fine day for riding.”

  His words were innocent of double meaning, but Bronwyn drew in a sharp breath because her mind imagined a far different sort of riding. Her own thoughts shocked her deeply. She’d never been so aware of just what a man might do with a woman when they were alone, and now was the poorest time for her body to be reacting to such things. It felt as though he could read her mind. At least the roguish smile he flashed her hinted that he could. His lips settled back into a firm line. She had to jerk her eyes away from them but that left her staring into his blue eyes. Hunger flickered there and her body approved. Her nipples drew tight, hitting her boned stays.

  “Ye shouldna look at me like that, lass.” He sounded like he was warning himself more than her, but her blush burned hotter because he was very correct.

  “Nor should ye look at me as ye are.”

  A grin split his lips, flashing a hint of his teeth. “Ye have that right. But what am I to do when ye stand there so tempting? I’m merely a man.”

  And for some reason she felt more like a woman than she ever had. Something hot and thick flowed through her veins. There was no thinking about anything. Her body was alive with sensations, touching off longings she’d thought deeply buried beneath the harsh reality of her father’s loathing to see her wed.

  “A man who is far from his home.” Her gaze touched on his kilt for a moment, the blue, yellow, and orange of the McJames clan holding her attention. “I’m a McQuade.”

  “I figured that already, but its nae my clan that keeps us quarrelling.”

  He let his horse close the distance again. The mare didn’t move now, she stood quivering as the large stallion made a circle around her. The same flood of excitement swept through Bronwyn, keeping her mesmerized by the man moving around her. Bronwyn shook her head, trying to regain her wits.

  “But I’m thinking that we just might be able to get along quite nicely.” His eyes flickered with promise. “Ye and I.”

  “Ye should go. Ye’re correct that it is my clansmen that seek trouble with the McJameses. Ye shouldna give them a reason to begin a fight.”

  “And ye would nae see that happen? I’m pleasantly surprised.”

  His stallion was still moving in a circle around her. Bronwyn had to twist her neck to keep him in sight. Every time he went behind her, her body tightened, every muscle drawing taut with anticipation. Such a response defied everything that she knew.

  “Surprised that I’ve no desire to see blood spilt? Being a McJames does not mean I am cruel at heart. What is yer name?” he asked.

  Fear shot through her, ending her fascination with him. Being the laird’s daughter meant she was a prize worth taking. Riding out alone so far had been a mistake she just might pay for with her body. Few would believe her if she told them her father wouldn’t pay any ransom for her. Beyond money, there were men who would consider taking her virtue a fine way to strike back at her clan.

  “I’ll no tell ye that. McQuade is enough for ye to know.”

  “I disagree with ye. ’Tis much too formal only knowing your clan name. I want to know what ye were baptized.”

  “Yet ye’ll have to be content for I shall nae tell ye my Christian name.” He frowned but Bronwyn forced herself to be firm. This flirtation was dangerous. Her heart was racing but with more than fear. “If ye get caught on McQuade land, I’ll no be able to help ye.”

  “Would that make ye sad, lass?”

  “No.” He was toying with her. “But it would ruin supper, what with all the gloating from the men that drove ye back onto McJames land. There would be talk of nothing else.”

  One golden eyebrow rose as the horse moved closer to her. He swung a leg over the saddle and jumped to the ground. Her belly quivered in the oddest fashion. But she had been correct about one thing—this man was huge.

  “Are ye sure, lass? I might be willing to press me luck if I thought ye’d feel something for me.”

  “That’s foolishness. Get on with ye. I willna tell ye my name. Ye’re a stranger; I dinna feel anything beyond Christian good will toward ye.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is.”

  He flashed another grin at her, but this one was far more calculating and full of intent. “Afraid I might sneak into yer home and steal ye if I know who’s daughter ye are?”

  He came closer but kept a firm hand on the reins of his mount. Authority shone from his face now, clear, determined, and undeniable. This man was accustomed to leading. It was part of the fibers that made up his being. He would have the nerve to steal her if that was what he decided upon. There was plenty enough arrogance in him, for certain. She felt it in the pit of her belly. What made her eyelashes flutter to conceal her emotions was the excitement such knowledge unleashed in her.

  “Enough teasing,” she said. “Neither of us are children.”

  “Aye, I noticed that already.”

  Her face brightened once more. His eyes swept her and his expression tightened. Maybe she had never seen a man looking at her like that afore but her body seemed to understand exactly what the flicker of hunger meant. She stared at it, mesmerized.

  “Tell me yer name, lass.”

  Don’t miss Kathy Love’s latest,

  WHAT A DEMON WANTS,

  available now…

  Jude stood in the doorway of a shotgun cottage that looked as if it had fallen out of the pages of a fairytale. He half-expected children in lederhosen to answer the door.

  But instead of Hansel or Gretel, the door was jerked open by a tall man, fit and tough enough to be a bodyguard himself.

  “Jude Anthony?”

  Jude nodded. “Yes.”

  The man extended his hand. “Maks
im Kostova. I’m the one who contacted you on behalf of my sister.”

  Jude guessed as much. He accepted the man’s hand, giving a brief, firm shake. As he released it, he fought the urge to wipe his hand on his pants as if there was something thick and slimy clinging to his fingers.

  Demon. That particular preternatural aura affected him more than some others. The energy from Maksim was strong and heavy, coating Jude’s palm and fingers, creeping up his arm like a living thing. The Blob from horror movie legend.

  Damn, he hated that sensation. He flexed his fingers, trying to subtly shake the sensation off.

  Maksim raised an eyebrow, obviously aware that Jude had had some reaction to him, but he didn’t inquire. Instead he stepped back, opening the door wider.

  “Come in.”

  Jude moved past him, keeping a good distance between them. This male was clearly a powerful, high ranking demon. Jude could even feel his aura just in passing.

  Jude steeled himself to the sensation, but was pleased to step into a fair-sized sitting room. More space was always better.

  He could do this. Just a few more jobs, and he’d be done with this life. No more paranormal creatures. No more of this existence. He would reinvent himself.

  With renewed determination, he turned his focus away from the demon and to the room they’d just entered. His impression again was that of being in a fairy tale world. Lavender walls, gold brocade furniture, and beaded lamps gave the room a feeling of a princess’s private parlor.

  But the woman who entered the room was no fairytale character. Not unless fairytales had changed greatly since he’d last read one. She was hugely pregnant, making her hard to miss. Her belly protruded, almost comically large when compared to her slight frame. Then his gaze moved to the tall, dark-haired woman following the waddling pregnant one.

  She was stunning. Definitely princess material here…except instead of a flowing gown she wore a faded concert T-shirt which clung to her small, pert breasts and slender midriff.

  Dark washed jeans encased her long legs, accentuating the flare of her hips and cupping what he had no doubt was a great ass—not that he could see that, but he just knew. Pale bare feet with her toes painted cherry red peeped out from under the cuffs of her jeans.

  Jude’s body tensed at the sight of her, very aware—of her.

  Just an observation, he told himself. What he was paid to do. Notice—things. But his body told him it was more than a detached opinion. He reacted. Instantly. Viscerally.

  Don’t let this be Ellina Kostova. Please don’t let this be her.

  He tried to ignore his response, relieved when Maksim spoke. “Jude, this is my wife, Jo,” Maksim said, gesturing to the very pregnant woman, drawing Jude’s attention away from the beauty.

  His wife stepped forward and offered her hand. The briefest touch revealed she was human. A welcome sensation after making contact with her husband. No supernatural residue there.

  But of course, Maksim redirected him back to the other woman. “And this is Ellina, my sister. The one you will be protecting.”

  Shit. He’d been hoping this wasn’t her. She certainly didn’t fit his image of Ellina Kostova, the recluse, the eccentric author who preferred to stay in her world of demons, monsters, and other things that went bump in the night.

  He hadn’t expected her to be so young…or so lovely. She had an almost ethereal quality to her features. Full lips, large pale eyes, creamy skin.

  She moved closer and offered a hand to him. Her fingers were slender, elegant. A beautiful hand.

  But she was paranormal, he reminded himself. So really, would she be anything less than perfection? On the outside, at least. That was the way of preternaturals.

  He reached for her hand, waiting for the same clinging, distasteful aura to encompass him. The aura that would remind him that not all things were as beautiful on the inside as they were on the outside. He knew from the information her brother had given him that she was only half-demon, but half was all it would take for his preternatural awareness to kick in.

  But instead of that sickening, clinging, creeping sensation, her touch sent tingles up his arm. Tangible, electric pulses. Pulses that were anything but unpleasant.

  As if in utter synch, they released each other, both stepping back from one another.

  But unlike him, Ellina didn’t show any outward reaction to the touch. Her lovely face was as serene as a mannequin. Certainly she didn’t show any indication she’d felt the same shockwaves passing between them. Instead her pale eyes roamed over him, taking very obvious inventory, although her expression revealed nothing of her thoughts. Just an assessment. Testing his musculature, his strength. Like appraising a horse about to be purchased.

  Except he was no stoic equine. His body tightened further. His mind imagining what her fingers would feel like moving over him. Those tiny pulses radiating from her fingers into him.

  His spine straightened, and he forced his attention, and his reaction, away from the woman who’d managed to affect him more with one fleeting brush of her fingers than hundreds of paranormals before her.

  He turned to Maksim.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not the right man for this job.”

  And be on the lookout for

  INSTANT TEMPTATION by Jill Shalvis,

  coming soon from Brava…

  “I didn’t invite you in, T.J.”

  He just smiled.

  He was built as solid as the mountains that had shaped his life, and frankly had the attitude to go with it, the one that said he could take on whoever and whatever, and you could kiss his perfect ass while he did so. She’d seen him do it too, back in his hell-raising, misspent youth.

  Not that she was going there, to the time when he could have given her a single look and she’d have melted into a puddle at his feet.

  Had melted into a puddle at his feet. Not going there…

  Unfortunately for Harley’s senses, he smelled like the wild Sierras; pine and fresh air, and something even better, something so innately male that her nose twitched for more, seeking out the heat and raw male energy that surrounded him and always had. Since it made her want to lean into him, she shoved in another bite of ice cream instead.

  He smiled. “I saw on Oprah once that women use ice cream as a substitute for sex.”

  She choked again, and he resumed gliding his big, warm hand up and down her back. “You watch Oprah?”

  “No. Annie was, and I overheard her yelling at the TV that women should have plenty of both sex and ice cream.”

  That sounded exactly like his Aunt Annie. “Well, I don’t need the substitute.”

  “No?” he murmured, looking amused at her again.

  “No!”

  He hadn’t taken his hands off her, she couldn’t help but notice. He still had one rubbing up and down her back, the other low on her belly, holding her upright, which was ridiculous, so she smacked it away, doing her best to ignore the fluttering he’d caused and the odd need she had to grab him by the shirt, haul him close and have her merry way with him.

  This was what happened to a woman whose last orgasm had come from a battery operated device instead of a man, a fact she’d admit, oh, never. “I was expecting your brother.”

  “Stone’s working on Emma’s ‘honey do’ list at the new medical clinic, so he sent me instead. Said to give you these.” He pulled some maps from his back pocket, maps she needed for a field expedition for her research. When she took them out of his hands, he hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his Levi’s. He wore a T-shirt layered with an opened button-down that said Wilder Adventures on the pec. His jeans were faded nearly white in the stress spots, of which there were many, nicely encasing his long, powerful legs and lovingly cupping a rather impressive package that was emphasized by the way his fingers dangled on his thighs.

  Not that she was looking.

  Okay, she was looking, but she couldn’t help it. The man oozed sexuality. Apparently some men were issued a
handbook at birth on how to make a woman stupid with lust. And he’d had a lot of practice over the years.

  She’d watched him do it.

  Each of the three Wilder brothers had barely survived their youth, thanks in part to no mom and a mean, son-of-a-bitch father. But by some miracle, the three of them had come out of it alive and now channeled their energy into Wilder Adventures, where they guided clients on just about any outdoor adventure that could be imagined; heli-skiing, extreme mountain biking, kayaking, climbing, anything.

  Though T.J. had matured and found success, he still gave off a don’t-mess-with-me vibe. Even now, at four in the afternoon, he looked big and bad and tousled enough that he might have just gotten out of bed and wouldn’t be averse to going back.

  It irritated her. It confused her. And it turned her on, a fact that drove her bat-shit crazy because she was no longer interested in T.J. Wilder.

  Nope.

  It’d be suicide to still be interested. No one could sustain a crush for fifteen years.

  No one.

  Except, apparently, her. Because deep down, the unsettling truth was that if he so much as directed one of his sleepy, sexy looks her way, her clothes would fall right off.

  Again.

  And wasn’t that just her problem, the fact that once upon a time, a very long time ago, at the tail end of T.J.’s out-of-control youth, the two of them had spent a single night together being just about as intimate as a man and woman could get. Her first night with a guy. Definitely not his first. Neither of them had been exactly legal at the time, and only she’d been sober.

  Which meant only she remembered.

  BRAVA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2010 Donna Kauffman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.