by Cat Johnson
Luke smiled just inches from her face as his fingers massaged the back of her neck. “There’s a second?”
He was too damn cute and he was hers. Annie was still having trouble wrapping her head around that.
“Yes, there’s a second.” She forged forward before she forgot what she wanted to say, gave in and simply kissed him some more. “Second, do you really think I have any longer in my job than you do in yours? If it’s not Chelsea, it will be someone else. Maybe it’s time I start looking toward what I want to do after this job. It’s been a nice run, but all the travel is tough. I think I could find a pretty good reason to settle down in one place. You know, eventually if someone who was also settled in one place wanted me to be there settled near him.”
His lips curved in a smile. “Oh, somebody definitely wants you to all right.” He glanced down at his knee. “So after the short go, you won’t mind a slightly wobbly bull rider who may have to wear a leg brace for a while, will you?”
Annie narrowed her eyes at him. “You promise that you’ll do what your body tells you is right? You’ll take the time off if you need to and not risk getting hurt more?”
The expression in his incredibly blue eyes that never failed to pull her into them looked sincere as they focused on hers. “I swear. I’ll take care of the knee over the long winter break—”
“Unless you need to sooner.” She cocked a brow at him.
He nodded. “Unless I need to sooner, then I’ll do it over the summer break.”
She nodded back, well aware he was simply indulging her, but at least it was a start. “Fine. Then I have no problem with a slightly wobbly but absolutely gorgeous bull rider with a brace on his incredibly sexy leg.”
Luke smiled. “That’s good to hear.”
“In fact, you may need to be horizontal and have that leg up and resting in bed for who knows…days.” Annie liked that idea. Not only because it would mean he was resting, but also because she had every intention of being the one in bed with him. Of course, there might not be much resting going on.
As Luke dipped his head lower toward hers, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Mustang paused in the doorway. With a smile, he tipped his hat to her and then kept walking past.
He’d told her once no one knew what tomorrow, or even the next eight seconds, would bring. He was right. All Annie knew was that her tomorrow would have Luke in it. She directed her focus back to Luke. He closed in for another kiss and as his lips met hers, she was pretty sure the next eight seconds were going to be pretty damn nice too. That was all she needed to know.
About the Author
As an award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance in genres including military, cowboy, ménage and paranormal, Cat Johnson uses her computer so much she wore the letters off the keyboard within a year. She is known for her creative marketing and research practices. Consequently, Cat owns an entire collection of camouflage shoes for book signings and a fair number of her consultants wear combat or cowboy boots for a living. In her real life, she’s been a marketing manager, professional harpist, bartender, tour guide, radio show host, Junior League president, sponsor of real live bull riding rodeo cowboys, wife and avid animal lover.
To learn more about Cat, please visit www.catjohnson.net. Send an email to Cat at [email protected], friend her on Myspace at www.myspace.com/authorcatjohnson or follow her on Twitter at www.twitter.com/cat_johnson.
Look for these titles by Cat Johnson
Now Available:
Red, Hot & Blue
Trey
Jack
Jimmy
Jared
Rough Stock
Studs in Spurs
Unridden
Bucked
Ride
Hooked
What happens in Vegas…sometimes follows you home.
Ride
© 2010 Cat Johnson
Studs in Spurs, Book 3
Pro bull rider Chase Reese knew things move faster than an eight-second ride in Las Vegas. He just never expected to be driving home with a national championship under his belt and a wedding band on his left hand with no clue how it got there.
Yet he can’t complain about the stripper bride beside him. From the moment his buddies bought him a lap dance from her, her trembles told him there was more to her than stiletto heels.
Leesa Santiago has met the perfect guy. Her timing couldn’t be worse though. If it was just their explosive sex, she could walk away. But from the moment her lap dance brought her this close to his baby blues, she was hooked. She can’t lie that she couldn’t be happier to bear his name—or guiltier that she’s using it and his Oklahoma farm to hide out from mob hit men.
That’s before Chase’s family gets involved. And his determination to do the right thing pushes her to do the one thing that will keep him safe. Break his heart.
Do cowboy boots mix with stripper heels? And can a love that started out on the wrong foot end up on the right one? That’s the risk you take waking up in Vegas.
Warning: Contains one happy-ending lap dance that will make you squirm, some pretty hot sex between two strangers who also happen to be married to each other, and a huge surprise conclusion.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Ride:
For the second time in two days, Chase woke and had to pause a moment to take inventory. He hated waking up feeling like this. Wondering things like where was he? Why did his mouth taste like stale beer and pepperoni? What happened last night? More importantly, who was this warm body pressed up against him?
Holy crap! Eyes fully open and brain wide awake now, Chase glanced down at the woman by his side. It didn’t take long for him to recognize the fall of long brown hair splayed across his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Leesa. It all came rushing back to him.
He hadn’t drunk that much last night. At least he didn’t think so. He remembered he hadn’t wanted to get too drunk in front of her. If things had gone anywhere with her, he wanted to be in top shape. More than that, he didn’t trust the other guys around her if he passed out.
Chase had fallen asleep in his jeans and shirt, but he didn’t think he’d passed out from alcohol, just from exhaustion since he hadn’t been totally recovered from the night before. There was the memory of Garret and Skeeter, pretty inebriated themselves, busting through the door, demanding the last two pieces of pizza and then not leaving until Chase did a shot of bourbon with them. Or was it more like two or three shots?
Those two had talked Leesa’s ear off about the competition and how great they’d both ridden, ninety percent of which were exaggerations. She’d listened politely and then even laughed when Skeeter sang the song that had gotten him his nickname.
Leesa had drank the two beers he’d brought her. Then Garret had handed her another cup when he came in for the pizza. That might have had bourbon and coke though, instead of beer in it.
Damn. Chase should have paid closer attention to what he’d given her. Garret could have made it super strong for all Chase knew. He glanced at the sleeping figure next to him. No wonder she still slept so soundly. Poor thing.
After Garret and Skeeter’s intrusion, once he’d finally convinced them to leave, they’d turned on the television for a bit. Leesa had looked tired and had drunk too much for him to let her leave, not that she was trying to go anywhere. She seemed perfectly content to sit in the room with him. Then what? He supposed they’d fallen asleep right there on the bed. The television was off now. Had he turned it off last night? Had she? He didn’t remember.
He really had to quit drinking, because he was pretty tired of piecing together the night before the next morning. All he was sure of now was that there hadn’t been any more than those two kisses right before the pizza came. If there had been more, he would remember it without a doubt.
Leesa still breathed with the steady, deep rhythm of sleep. Not wanting to disturb her, he slipped his body out from beneath her. She let out a little moan
and rolled over, snuggling into the pillow. He regretted getting out of bed more than he could have imagined, but nature called. Maybe he could slip back into bed when he was done without waking her. That was a really nice idea.
He touched his head. Not so bad. No headache. No hangover. Yeah, he was tired and a little groggy, but that could be the early hour. Judging by the grey light filtering through the curtains, the sun had barely risen. Then again, this was Las Vegas. That glow coming through the window could be caused by neon, not nature.
Chase shook his head as he stumbled toward the bathroom. He’d be happy to get back to his family’s farm. This life was exciting. Travel. A different city every week. But he’d be happy to have his mama’s home cooking every day, and be able to cleanse his system of all the junk food and alcohol he’d indulged in lately. He’d work out daily at home and come back next season leaner and meaner and ready to win.
That resolution made, Chase took care of what he had to in the bathroom, including a quick shower. He decided it was best to be clean in case Leesa woke up feeling amorous. You never know, and it didn’t hurt to be prepared.
After brushing his teeth, Chase eased open the bathroom door.
She was still asleep. Good. He could creep back into bed and she’d never know he was gone. Even if they hadn’t had sex, he still liked waking up next to her. It felt nice.
With one of the hotel’s white towels wrapped around his waist, Chase tiptoed into the room. They’d fallen asleep last night with the lights on, so he’d have no problem finding a pair of shorts in the clean clothes piled in his duffle bag. He would put those on instead of getting back into his jeans. Might as well be comfortable, and as far as access in case Leesa was a morning person, shorts were far better than jeans. Hell, a man could dream, couldn’t he?
Chase found a pair of boxer shorts, but decided that was too intimate. He had a feeling she might not like waking up to find him in underwear in bed with her. It would make him seem damn presumptuous. In spite of the fact they’d done stuff together at the club, he wasn’t about to assume anything because of it.
She was different here, off work. Besides, the strip club and that lap dance had been part of her job. Chase didn’t want to be a job. He wanted her to like him, to want him, to be with him because she wanted to, not because someone paid her to.
He dug farther into the jumbled heap, looking for a pair of his workout shorts to wear. Unfortunately, with home just a day away, most of his clothes were dirty. He’d gotten lazy and figured he could bring his laundry there and wash it more easily than locate a laundromat.
This was Vegas. There were far better ways to spend his time than to sit and watch his clothes spin in circles. One such way was snoring lightly in his bed. That thought made him smile, and he dug with more enthusiasm than before. Hell, if he had to, he’d grab a pair of Garret’s shorts. The guy had more clothes than most girls.
Chase turned toward Garret’s side of the room intent on pilfering some shorts when something shiny caught his eye. On the dresser, right in front of the mirror and below the lamp sat two gold rings.
“What the hell?” Chase moved closer and picked one up, then the second. One was tiny, the other large enough to fit on his finger. Then he spied the pieces of paper lying beneath the rings. He picked up the smaller one. It was a receipt for one wedding ceremony and two gold bands, paid for in cash with yesterday’s date.
Swallowing hard, Chase picked up the larger, more decorative piece of paper. Across the top, in fancy printing was written Certificate of Marriage. Below that, under the word groom was—holy crap—his name printed in block letters.
When the going gets tough, the tough get busy. Real busy.
Breaking Brent
© 2010 Niki Green
Roped, Book 2
In Millbrook, Texas, there are cowboys. Then there are the Kiels, every girl’s idea of perfection in tight-fittin’ jeans. Peyton James is no different. Only she doesn’t want to admit it—because three years ago Brent Kiel ripped out her heart and handed it back in teeny little pieces.
In a twist of fate Peyton wound up engaged to Brent’s best friend. The engagement might be off now, but no one needs to know, right? It keeps the questions at bay…and the temptation called Brent Kiel out of reach. Until the night he shows up at her family’s bar.
The only reason Brent agrees to meet his brothers at Big Jack’s is that Peyton never darkens the door on a Friday night. Except tonight. Seeing her is a painful reminder of his mistake and what it cost him—and that no other woman’s lips or body will ever satisfy him like hers.
Nothing—not the past, not her legendary temper, not even the rock on her finger—will keep this cowboy from getting what he wants…
Warning: Seduction served by a brooding and standoffish cowboy who wants nothing more than his ladylove’s heart and soul—her body is just icing on the cake. Hot cowboy sex in a bar, in a barn, in a bed…just about anywhere.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Breaking Brent:
What was his brother doing?
Brent followed Peyton with his eyes the moment she took the hand his brother offered her, through her short conversation with Joss, up until the time she retrieved her cell phone from her purse. She didn’t look happy.
Watching her walk from her place under the old willow tree to the seclusion of the barn and not following her instantly was hard.
Why did she need the privacy the barn held? Was her fiancé calling to check on her? He doubted it. He knew Carter. Worrying and checking up was not one of the things he did.
He bided his time and waited for his patience to pay off. Dodging as many people as he could, he walked on quick steps to the barn. Not wanting to attract attention to his destination, he made the occasional stop to talk to folks here and there. Shaking hands, slapping backs and nodding every so often allowed him to slip into the barn without anyone being the wiser.
He didn’t know what compelled him to follow her. Maybe it was the look of concern and worry written across her face. Maybe it was out of pure nosiness on his part. It could be that he couldn’t not follow her. Whatever it was, it led him to the barn, searching the dim interior for her.
It didn’t take him long to find her.
She stood at the back of the barn, resting against the double doors that had been anchored open. Even through the darkness he could make out her figure. She was breathtaking in the shadowed hall.
She was great in any light, but Brent liked the moonlight the best.
Most of his visions of her over the years had her cast in moonlight. He had plenty of memories of her in the fading shadows the sun created and moonlight—he wouldn’t mind making another.
He struck the thought from his head, knowing that creating a memory with Peyton, a good one, was not on the agenda. He just wanted to check on her. She had looked upset. Or at least he thought she had. That was his reasoning for following her—to check on her. Nothing more.
Altering his stride, he moved toward her without any noise. There was a fraction of space between his chest and her back before she knew he was even there.
Spinning quickly, she turned and her wide eyes met his. He saw her breath hitch and then quicken. Was she frightened? Excited? Excited was good, but he figured mad as hell was a better gauge on her mood.
“What do you want?” She cast the words his way and then gave him her back once more. Brent stopped the smile from crossing his face. Yep, mad as hell was a pretty good description.
“You okay?” He saw her body tense as he spoke. He waited for her to reply and wasn’t surprised by what he got in return.
“What do you care?”
“I care.” His admission shocked him and the shock made his jaw set and his brow furrow. Brent wasn’t big on expressing his feelings—never had been. That was one of the problems they had always had between them. He couldn’t tell her how he felt and she needed to know.
“Yeah, right.” She turned on her heel and faced him. T
he added inches of her shoes made her and Brent almost the same height—almost. She was still a few good inches shorter than him, but the shoes made it so that she didn’t have to crane her neck to look up at him. He didn’t know if he liked that or not.
He could think of a million good reasons for her added height and the shoes she wore. All of them revolved around sex. Sex with her. Sex with her wearing those tall, strappy shoes and nothing else but his body.
“You know I have tried to be nice to you. I have tried to be friends. I have tried everything within my power to make it so that we could still be cordial to one another. But you and your stubborn far-too-oversized pride has prevented that. So tell me why, now, at this very minute, I should give a rat’s ass if you care if I’m upset or not? You didn’t care all those years ago. Why the hell do you care now?”
“Me and my stubborn pride?” Brent couldn’t believe it. They were picking up right where they’d left off. Fighting. They used to fight, every couple did, but those fights had usually ended in a much more desirable way—him on top of her, her on top of him, him behind her.
“Yeah, you and your stubborn pride. Funny, I never thought your pride could be bigger than your ego, but I guess I was wrong.”
“My ego?”
“Yes, your ego. Is there an echo in here? Did I stutter when I spoke?”
“Darlin’, I don’t think this conversation is on the path you want it to be. If I were you, I’d stop now before you get your tender feelings hurt.” He retreated just a step. He should have known better than to follow her. He should have stayed away. It would have been better for them both.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? My tender feelings?” With each step Brent took backwards, Peyton closed the distance. If she wanted a fight, he wasn’t in the mood to give her one.