by Lori Foster
Ready or not...love will find a way
Single dad Hogan Guthrie is getting his life back on track, and working as the “barbecue master” at a local diner is just a temporary detour. He and restaurant owner Violet Shaw constantly butt heads...until one night they end up mingling other parts instead. Hogan thought he had the recipe for happiness all figured out. But loyal, carefree Violet is daring him to trust his impulses...and see just how sweet small-town living—and loving—can be.
Nathan Hawley traded his SWAT team credentials for a sheriff’s badge, but a gorgeous new neighbor is shaking up his orderly life. Nathan has a hunch there’s more to Brooklin Sweet than meets the eye—but given her caution about getting involved, he has his work cut out for him. Still, there’s something about the elusive beauty Nathan can’t walk away from—and helping her come to terms with her past might pave the way to the future they both secretly long for.
Praise for New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster
“Teasing and humorous dialogue, sizzling sex scenes, tender moments, and overriding tension show Foster’s skill as a balanced storyteller.”
—Publishers Weekly on Under Pressure (starred review)
“Best friends find hunky men and everlasting love in Foster’s latest charmer.... Her no-fail formula is sure to please her fans.”
—Publishers Weekly on Don’t Tempt Me
“Foster brings her signature blend of heat and sweet to her addictive third Ultimate martial arts contemporary.”
—Publishers Weekly on Tough Love (starred review)
“Emotionally spellbinding and wicked hot.”
—New York Times bestselling author Lora Leigh on No Limits
“Storytelling at its best! Lori Foster should be on everyone’s
auto-buy list.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Sherrilyn Kenyon on No Limits
“Foster’s writing satisfies all appetites with plenty of searing sexual tension and page-turning action in this steamy, edgy, and surprisingly tender novel.”
—Publishers Weekly on Getting Rowdy
“A sexy, believable roller coaster of action and romance.”
—Kirkus Reviews on Run the Risk
“Steamy, edgy, and taut.”
—Library Journal on When You Dare
Also available from Lori Foster and HQN Books
The Body Armor series
Under Pressure
Hard Justice
The Guthrie Brothers
Don’t Tempt Me
Worth the Wait
The Ultimate series
Hard Knocks (prequel ebook novella)
No Limits
Holding Strong
Tough Love
Fighting Dirty
Love Undercover
Run the Risk
Bare It All
Getting Rowdy
Dash of Peril
Edge of Honor
Ready, Set, Jett (ebook novella)
When You Dare
Trace of Fever
Savor the Danger
A Perfect Storm
What Chris Wants (ebook novella)
Other must-reads
A Buckhorn Baby
Built for Love (ebook novella)
A Buckhorn Bachelor (ebook novella)
A Buckhorn Summer (ebook novella)
All For You
Back to Buckhorn (ebook novella)
Heartbreakers
Charade
Up in Flames
Turn Up the Heat
Hot in Here
Animal Attraction (ebook anthology)
Love Bites
All Riled Up
The Buckhorn Legacy
Forever Buckhorn
Buckhorn Beginnings
Bewitched
Unbelievable
Tempted
Bodyguard
Caught!
Fallen Angels
Enticing
Look for the next sizzling Body Armor book
Close Contact
Lori Foster
Worth the Wait
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Excerpt from Close Contact by Lori Foster
1
FIVE O’CLOCK ON a Friday and Hogan Guthrie found himself smiling in anticipation as he closed the books on his work and powered down his computer. He could work from home, and sometimes did, but the scope of the new client meant some coordinating with other employees. For a week now he’d spent hours at the desk for his usual nine-to-five shift, poring over past records and updating them to a better, more cohesive platform. Popping his head to the side, he released tension gathered in his neck. A glance at the clock showed he’d have time to run home, shower and change into more casual and comfortable clothes before heading to the diner.
Friday nights at the diner usually ran late, but he didn’t mind. Hell, he was actually looking forward to it.
Of course he knew why.
Violet Shaw.
Violet with that sexy Southern drawl, her rich red hair and vivid blue eyes. And that pale, creamy skin—
He jumped when a small, warm hand settled on his shoulder and he looked up to see his boss, Joni Jeffers, smiling down at him.
“You look tense,” she said, and her fingers dug into his muscles in an impromptu and very inappropriate massage. “It was a grueling week, wasn’t it?”
Wondering, with facetious cynicism, if he should file a sexual harassment suit, Hogan said only, “Too much time reformatting numbers. I should have remembered to stretch more.”
“I can tell you stay in shape.” Her other hand settled on him, too, and she leaned close as she kneaded his shoulders. “How’s that feel?”
Like a blatant come-on. Not that long ago, he’d have jumped on Joni’s unspoken offers. After having his life turned upside down, he’d spent damn near a year belatedly sowing his wild oats with a single-minded vengeance. He’d been a miserable bastard, too, and had probably made others around him miserable.
He hadn’t known Joni then. Probably a good thing since he now worked for her. He’d done a lot of stupid things lately, but he wasn’t an idiot.
Joni was cute with her bubbly personality, curly brown hair and top-heavy figure. At the moment, he felt not only her warm breath on his ear, but her lush boobs on his back.
Yet he wasn’t even tempted. Again, he knew why.
These days, along with feeling more content in general, he had a preoccupation with his two jobs, his seventeen-year-old son—and unrequited lust for Violet.
Standing—and dislodging Joni’s hands—he asked, “Ready to head out?”
“I was thinking about grabbing a drink.” Her tongue slicked over her bottom lip in blatant suggestion. “Interested?”
Hell no. “Sorry, I can’t. I have to get home in time to see my son before he leaves on a
date.” He assumed Colt would have a date, so that wasn’t a lie.
Her eyes, sultry a moment before, flared. “Your son?”
“Yeah.” The mention of a kid had often proved to be effective discouragement with a certain type of woman. Apparently, Joni was that type. “Colt’s seventeen, almost eighteen now,” he added, hopefully putting the nail in the coffin of her interest.
Straightening, Joni looked him over with suspicion. “You’re not old enough for that.”
“I’m thirty-five and I had Colt young.” One of the few things he didn’t regret from his youth.
“Your wife?” she asked bluntly.
Just as blunt, he answered, “Dead.” And he wasn’t explaining beyond that. “I have to run, but it looks like Derrick is hanging around. Given the way he smiles at you, I’m betting he’d love to get a drink.”
She wrinkled her nose, but sighed as if resigned. Proving she wasn’t yet entirely dissuaded, she gave him a long look and said, “I’ll catch you next time.” Turning, she headed for Derrick, who perked up at her approach.
Colt wasn’t there when Hogan got home. Neither was Diesel, their dog, but then, the dog often hung next door when he and Colt were away.
He checked his phone but didn’t see a message from his son. At almost eighteen, he understood that Colt wanted his independence, but one of his few rules was that he needed to give his father a call when he’d be late.
It wasn’t until Hogan stepped out of the shower that he heard Colt coming in, Diesel with him. Drying off, Hogan opened the bathroom door and asked, “Where’ve you been?”
“I was at Uncle Jason’s. You didn’t see my truck?”
Relaxing, Hogan shook his head. It wasn’t only the dog that liked to visit next door. He’d bought the small house next to his brother, Jason, when Jason married the woman who’d previously owned it.
Diesel hurried in to get some pats and show some love, then went back to sit next to Colt. Hogan should have realized where Colt would be but he’d been in such a rush, he hadn’t been aware of anything except his anticipation.
Insane—yet he seemed to have found his calling, and it wasn’t accounting.
While Hogan pulled on jeans, Colt leaned in the doorway, Diesel sitting beside him. At six-three, Colt was taller than both his father and his uncle. Broad-shouldered. Lean and muscular. Both Colt and Jason had dark brown eyes, whereas Hogan’s were a much lighter blue.
Colt hadn’t inherited much from him. Diesel, a shepherd mix they’d rescued that had first belonged to Honor but now adored Colt. He was fond of many people, but he was clearly Colt’s dog.
“I’m coming to the diner tonight, okay?”
“Sure.” Hogan glanced up after pulling on a polo. “A date?”
“Maybe.” Colt smiled crookedly. “It’s a group of us, but...”
“But?”
While he stroked the dog’s head, he said, “A new girl joined my chemistry class today.”
“Ah.” Hogan guessed, “Pretty?” Maybe his son had inherited something after all. Not entirely a good thing.
“Very.” Colt grinned. “I’m hoping to win her over before anyone else does.”
Probably wouldn’t take much effort. Once Colt had settled in after the move from Columbus to the much-smaller, quaint town of Clearbrook in Ohio, the girls had been flocking after him.
“So,” Hogan said, “is this a request that your old dad stays away, or can I meet her?”
Looking far too serious, Colt said, “You don’t need to hide away, ever.”
Hogan sat to pull on his boots. “If it becomes an issue—”
“It won’t be.”
Unsure when he’d become philosophical on the issue, Hogan said, “You know, if the girl is new around here, she might need a friend more than a hot date.”
“I’ll be both.” Colt straightened off the wall. “Gotta go. I’ve got grass-cutting jobs this weekend, so I want to finish my homework now. C’mon, Diesel.” The dog was already on his heels.
“Be sure to cut our grass, too, before you take off.”
With a wave, Colt headed to his incredibly messy room, so messy, in fact, that it kept him from being too perfect. Not that Diesel minded. He tended to sprawl on the piles of discarded clothes.
Smiling, Hogan wondered how he’d gotten so damn lucky. Lucky, at least when it came to his son.
He grabbed his keys and helmet, yelled a goodbye to Colt and headed out the door to his bike. The late-August evening hit his face like an open oven.
As he rode, the sweltering air tore across his face and he loved it. Sure, he’d first gotten the bike to indulge some idea of being a rebel with a “fuck you” attitude, as if that could make up for the past year of hell. He was over that now, mostly anyway, but he still loved the bike.
A few minutes later he pulled into the already-crowded lot of Screwy Louie’s, the town’s most popular diner. Accountant by day, Hogan thought as he strode in, barbecue master by night.
He stored his helmet and keys in a locker, found a stiff white apron and greeted the others who worked the evening weekend shift with him.
When he didn’t see Violet bustling about as was her usual preference, he stopped one of the waitresses. “Where is she?”
Knowing exactly whom he meant, the girl said, sotto voce, “Back office,” and added, “I think she’s sick.”
Frowning, Hogan started his massive grills so they could heat, took the racks of previously prepared ribs from the industrial refrigerators and then headed for the tiny office at the back of the building.
He and Violet had an understanding of sorts. He wanted her; she resisted. He didn’t make it easy on her, and she didn’t give him any leeway. So far, the cat and mouse game had been fun. He was still patient.
And still very determined.
It didn’t matter that he also worked for Violet; since this was a part-time job, not his career, the usual issue of mixing work with pleasure didn’t apply.
Grinning, he rapped his knuckles against the door and opened it.
With her rich red hair fanned out around her on the surface of the cluttered desk, Violet rested her head on her folded arms. Without looking up, she asked, “What do you want, Hogan?”
“How’d you know it was me?”
She tipped her face and one vivid blue eye peeked up at him through that fall of incredible hair. “Honey,” she drawled, “I know the sound of your walk, the way that you knock, and I know your scent.”
His brows lifted. “My scent?”
Sitting back with a grumpy sigh, she asked again, “What’d you want?”
Ignoring her mean mood, he said, “Besides you?” He heard her growl and his grin widened. “Why are you in here moping? Late night yesterday?”
“Yes.”
Before he could get jealous over that, she gestured at the scattered papers. “I fired my accountant, the miserable bastard.”
“Why?”
“None of your business. But now the accounts have piled up. I despise paperwork—you know that. I worked on it off and on all day yesterday and a big chunk of today, but I’m still not done.”
God, he loved her twangy voice, the way she drawled her words.
She gathered the papers together into a file and closed it, then stood to tuck it into an old metal file cabinet.
Her office was ancient and Hogan suspected her accountant’s ideas might have been, as well. Hesitating to overstep, or to take on more work, he asked, “Anything I can help with?”
“You already are, darlin’. Your ribs are a huge hit.” Using both hands, she finger-combed her hair into a high ponytail, then secured it with a cloth-covered rubber band that she pulled from her wrist. “I’m even looking into buying a special oven so you can keep it going through the wi
nter months.”
Standing in the doorway, blocking her exit, he asked, “Who said I want to be here in the winter months?”
“You’re not stupid. You know you were born to do this.”
Since he’d recently thought the same thing, he said, “I don’t mind grilling in the snow.”
With a seductive smile teasing her lips, she sidled closer and patted his face. “If you ever decide to give up that stuffy shirt and tie during the week, I’d hire you full-time in a hot minute.” Her warm fingertips trailed down his neck, his chest and away. “Customers would love it, and I bet you’d make more in tips than you do sitting in an office.”
Paying no attention to the job offer, Hogan caught her wrist. “You just love playing with fire, don’t you?”
With her gaze on his mouth, she whispered, “You got those ribs ready yet?”
“I just got here.”
“Best get a move on, then.” She ducked past him.
Sometimes, Hogan thought as he watched her sashay away, Violet deliberately distracted him. Why? If she truly didn’t want to get physical, why taunt him?
He glanced back at that file cabinet and wondered again about her accounting.
An hour later he didn’t have time to think about anything except cooking. The orders were pouring in. Since they weren’t served during the week, it seemed that come Friday night and through the weekend, everyone wanted barbecued ribs. Standing just outside the restaurant, near the side of the building where Violet had added more outdoor seating, Hogan whistled and slathered on more of his special sauce. The heat of the day waned as the sun fell lower in the sky, bleeding over the horizon in shades of crimson, purple and sunflower yellow.
Until coming to Clearbrook, he couldn’t remember ever paying much attention to the sunset. He breathed deep of cooking meat, freshly mowed grass and humid air.
All around him, customers chatted and laughed, some sitting on picnic tables under shade trees, others using the metal tables and chairs under the overhang. After lifting three more racks onto a platter, Hogan rang a bell.
It was Violet, this time, who came to collect them.
Damp tendrils of her fiery hair escaped her ponytail and clung to her temples. Her flushed cheeks made the blue of her eyes even brighter. He’d already noticed the T-shirt she wore with Screwy Louie’s scrawled across her breasts and a pair of khaki shorts with tennis shoes. Now the shirt stuck to her in select places. Eyeing her toned and shapely legs, he couldn’t help thinking—
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