by Meg Benjamin
Behind them the band swung into a slow waltz that he now recognized as “Midnight on the Water”, one of Bonner’s specialties. It wasn’t the kind of tune you usually did any crotch grinding to, but Tom didn’t mind. He rested his cheek against Deirdre’s hair, moving her slowly around the area beside the bar.
“I have a question,” he said finally.
“Mmmm?” She didn’t bother to open her eyes.
“If Dempsey had won the card game, would you have gone back to Houston?”
She opened her eyes a fraction, studying him. “Of course.”
Tom’s chest clenched tight again.
“But then I would have turned around the next day and come back. After I’d read my father the riot act.”
Tom grimaced. “Thanks for just taking another five years off my life expectancy.”
She grinned up at him. “I do need to go off to Houston for a few days over the next couple of weeks to save my father’s behind, but no way am I staying anywhere but here. After all, I’ve got a coffee roaster to open. And drinks to serve. And dinners to plan. We are going to have a dinner menu aren’t we? Clem’s raring to go.”
Tom gave her another quick turn around their corner of the garden. Things seemed to be happening very fast. Not that it bothered him all that much. Now that he’d given up being the Lone Ranger. “A dinner menu sounds like a plan.”
“And wine. We need to talk to Morgan. Maybe we can work a deal with Cedar Creek Winery to feature their varietals. Only they’re sort of expensive, so we may need to bring in some others, too. There’s a Wine and Food Festival in October so we can do some comparison shopping.”
“Right.” Tom detoured around a couple of senior citizens who were doing a pretty good job of whirling around the picnic tables.
Deirdre put her hands on his shoulders, smiling. “Face it, ace, you’re stuck with me. I’m not leaving. I’m in it for the long haul.”
Tom slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, believe me. You’re mine, Dee-Dee. As long as you want to be.”
“I want to be yours. I just don’t want to be Dee-Dee.”
“Okay, Deirdre,” he took a deep breath. Go for it. “I love you. How’s that?”
Her smile lit up the garden. “Perfect. And convenient since I love you too.”
Behind him he heard some raucous shouts from the general direction of the Toleffsons. They might have been directed at him and Deirdre, but maybe not. He didn’t bother to find out. He spun her around one more time, reveling in the warm night air, the rapidly improving band, and the sweet smell of beer from his very own bar. He shifted her slightly closer to his body, closing his eyes as he touched his cheek to her hair. She smelled even sweeter.
“I think you’ve got yourself a bartender, ma’am. Pretty much permanently.”
“Good.” She smiled up into his eyes. “Now let’s dance.”
About the Author
Meg Benjamin is the author of the Konigsburg series for Samhain Publishing: Venus In Blue Jeans, Wedding Bell Blues, Be My Baby, Long Time Gone, and now Brand New Me. Meg lives in Colorado with her DH and two rather large Maine coon kitties (well, partly Maine coon anyway). Her Web site is www.MegBenjamin.com. You can follow her on Facebook (www.facebook.com/meg.benjamin1), MySpace (www.myspace.com/megbenjamin), and Twitter (www.twitter.com/megbenj1). Meg loves to hear from readers—contact her at [email protected].
Look for these titles by Meg Benjamin
Now Available:
Konigsburg, Texas
Venus in Blue Jeans
Wedding Bell Blues
Be My Baby
Long Time Gone
A future with the woman of his dreams is within his grasp…if the past will stay that way.
Long Time Gone
© 2010 Meg Benjamin
Konigsburg, Book 4
Erik Toleffson wasn’t looking to become Chief of Police. He’s got enough trouble trying to rebuild his relationship with his three brothers who, until just recently, ran the other way when he approached. He’s not the bully they grew up with, but bad memories are tough to overcome.
Morgan Barrett is as worn out as a vat full of crushed grape skins. She never planned to run Cedar Creek Winery, but there’s no one else to shoulder the load as her father recovers from an injury. All she needs is a little sleep. Just a five-minute nap in the booth at the Dew Drop Inn…if that guy across the bar would stop staring at her as if putting her head down on the table is a crime.
After Morgan yawns in Erik’s face, there’s nowhere to go but up. With time, though, their relationship warms like a perfectly blended Bordeaux. Until the shady mayor digs into Erik’s past and dredges up information that could drive a permanent wedge between him and his brothers—and sour any chance of a future with Morgan.
Warning: Contains hot sex with mango sherbet, crooked politicians, yuppy bikers, Bored Ducks, and a Maine Coon Cat with attitude.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Long Time Gone:
Technically, he was still on duty, assuming that the call forward worked on his cell, of course. A new way to get around not having enough people for night duty since it was Peavey’s day off. “I just wanted to check on you. To tell you the truth, I didn’t expect you to be awake.”
He’d hoped she would be, though. Bingo.
Morgan walked behind the bar and opened the refrigerator. “Water? Soda? Fruit salad? I’ve got a little of everything.”
“Soda. Thanks.”
He watched her reach into the refrigerator. She had on jeans and a white tank top that showed a lot of her chest and did interesting things to his solar plexus. When she turned to set the can down in front of him, he saw the clear outline of her nipples against the white ribbing.
No bra. His lungs contracted. Down boy!
“Actually, I slept most of the afternoon.” She pushed a hand through her hair, sending short curls tumbling around her ears.
The shadowy disks of her nipples peaked against the thin cotton. He wondered if the feeling in his chest was heart palpitations.
“So now I’m wide awake.” She grinned in his general direction.
He tried to remember what she was talking about. Oh yeah, sleeping.
He pulled up a bar stool on the other side of the counter. Better than standing there with his pulse thundering in his ears. “Nice place. How long has it been open?”
“The winery? Dad started off in a Quonset hut around 1994. He and Ciro finished this building a few years ago.” She looked up at the vaulted ceiling over her head, smiling. “I’ve always liked it.”
“How long have you lived here?”
Her smile faded slightly. “I moved in after my dad got hurt. Before that I just came down on weekends. But I needed to be on-site so I could help Ciro.”
“Does your mom come down to help you out sometimes?”
Her smile disappeared entirely. “My mom doesn’t like wine.”
“Must have made for interesting dinner conversation.” He picked up his soda.
“Oh, it did that.” Her lips stayed flat. “Like I told you, my folks are separated. Not legally, but practically.”
“Where do they live?”
“Austin. My mom’s there full-time. My dad was there in a rehab facility, getting his leg back in shape. My mom let him move back in when they released him, so maybe some good came out of the whole wretched mess. Maybe they’ll work out their differences. What about your folks?”
Erik frowned, not sure what she was asking. “They’re still in Iowa.”
“Are they thinking of moving down since all of you are here?”
“They threaten to every once in a while. We might be able to lure them down for the winter, but my mom’s not big on heat.”
A moment of silence stretched between them. He tried to think of something to fill it. “Remembered anything else about what happened on the hill?”
She gave him a dry smile. “No. In fact, I’m lookin
g forward to forgetting the whole thing.”
Not as great a smile as before, but he’d take what he could get. He mentally told his nether regions to cool it. “I’ll try to get back up there tomorrow to see if I can find the tracks you talked about.”
“Good idea. At least I’ll know I didn’t imagine them.” She leaned on the counter next to him, letting the scoop neck of her tank slide down a little more. “So what were you doing up on that ridge this afternoon when you so kindly saved my butt?”
Erik gave up trying to calm his unruly body. As long as she was leaning against the counter like that it was a lost cause. “I was looking at the stock tank. Rancher who owns the land had some sick goats. Claimed it was because somebody poisoned his tank. We need to have the water tested.”
Her head snapped up. “Oh shit.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think the situation was good, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“It is if we’re thinking of planting a vineyard there.” Morgan rubbed her hand across her forehead. She looked like her headache was back. “Ciro is going to freak. And I told him I’d pitch the vineyard to Dad.”
“Take it easy. We don’t know what’s wrong up there yet. The water could be bad, but it could just be something that was dumped in the stock tank. Particularly since somebody also pushed you down that hill.”
He put his hand on her shoulder, reassuringly. At least he thought it was reassuring. A moment later, he wasn’t so sure. His hand rested on smooth bare skin, silky and warm. He smelled lavender and rose and hints of wine. And she was watching him with those eyes—rich, dark brown, like chocolate kisses.
All of a sudden, he felt a little dizzy. He leaned forward, almost without thinking. She rose slightly to meet him.
Her lips were soft, warm. He inhaled her sigh, tasting wine, then angled his mouth against hers. Her mouth opened beneath his lips, but he wasn’t going to do anything about it. This was just a quick kiss, an intro as it were. Nothing serious yet.
And then it was.
Morgan’s mouth opened wider and his tongue plunged deep, tasting, sensing. Warmth and smooth deep wetness. Without thinking, he raised his hand to her breast and felt the hard pebble of her nipple against his palm. Heat flashed again at his groin.
Somewhere his brain went on red alert. Danger, danger, Will Robinson. His body surged right ahead, hardening almost instantly. The warm weight of her breast filled one hand and he rubbed his palm against the other, her faint moan raising prickles on his scalp.
She held her hands at the sides of his chest, then smoothed them around his body, pulling herself tight against him. Erik heard a melodic chirping and wondered if it was him or her.
Until he realized it was his cell phone.
He stepped back, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath. His face was damp with sweat. “Sorry,” he whispered, clicking open the cell with one hand.
A routine traffic call, fender bender on Highway 16. But by then he knew he had to go anyway. He turned back to her, tucking his cell in his pocket, trying not to think about what had just happened.
And what had almost happened.
Her eyes were huge, her mouth a thin line. “I didn’t…” she stuttered, then stopped.
“I’m sorry about the call,” he said quietly. “I’m not sorry about the kiss. Not hardly.”
She still watched him, as if she were trying to make up her mind about something. Then the corners of her mouth edged up, slowly. “Drive carefully.”
“I will.” He smiled back at her, breathing again. “Sleep well.”
“I will.”
Erik headed for his truck, listening to the voice screaming in his head. What was that? What the hell was that? You’ve got more than enough on your plate, Toleffson. You’ve got two months to prove yourself. Keep your mind on your freakin’ job. You’re supposed to be in control here, remember?
No question. He was definitely going to concentrate on his job and nothing else. He was going to make this work. Definitely. But the smell of lavender and roses and dry white wine lingered in his head all the way back to town.
She wants it. He’s got it…and a whole lot more.
Turn It Up
© 2011 Vivian Arend
The Turner Twins, Book 2
Maxwell Turner considers his stubborn and resourceful attitude a plus. After all, it usually gets him what he wants—except for Natasha Bellingham. The long-time family friend may be ten years older than he, but so what? He’s plenty old enough to know they belong together. Now all he has to do is convince her.
Over the past few years Natasha’s love life has degenerated into a series of bad clichés. Her biological clock is ticking—loudly. As a proven architect with her own house-design company, she’s financially ready for a baby. Who says she needs a permanent man in her life for that? She just needs a “donation”.
When Max discovers Natasha’s future plans include artificial insemination, he’s outraged. She wants to get pregnant? No problem. He’s more than willing to volunteer—no turkey basters involved.
But there’s one non-negotiable clause: He wants forever. And he intends to do everything in his power—fair and unfair—to make it happen.
This title contains one younger man ready, aimed and hell bent on giving one woman everything she wants. Includes interludes against the wall, in a Jacuzzi, on a car hood and even—shockingly enough—on a bed or two. Oh, and about that porch swing? Yup…
Enjoy the following excerpt for Turn It Up:
He stepped closer, not giving her time to continue her protests. Last night he’d shown more control than any man should ever have to. Today his ability to manage the urges driving him grew a little shakier. “My family thinks the world of you and would be thrilled to be involved with your child—again meaning more love and attention. That’s not the biggest reason to marry me, but it’s a bonus.”
“Like a prize in the cereal box?”
Max laughed out loud, the expression on her face driving him crazy. Sarcastic wench. “God, you are so freaking cocky. I love that. And that’s the real reason this makes sense. I would definitely choose to be in a long-term relationship with you.”
She opened her mouth to speak then swung her hands in frustration, pacing away to stand in front of an empty window opening. Fists planted on her hips, she stared out at the backyard.
He waited patiently.
Tasha turned and shook her head. “You can’t know that. You’re too young to—”
“Don’t.” That was the one argument he would not accept. It made his blood boil. He rapidly crossed the room to her side. “Don’t you dare say something trite like ‘You’re too young to know your own mind.’ This is me, not some random person off the street. We’ve spent tons of time together over the years.”
“Not one-on-one, not in a sexual relationship.”
“Because you’ve never let us go there. I’ve been your friend. I’ve helped you move and fixed your car. We’ve played games together and watched bad movies. When I make a decision I stick to it. If I say I want to be involved with you, trust me, I’ve given it a ton of thought. I’ll not only keep my commitment, but be the best damn father possible.”
Her face grew redder as she waved her hands in the air and shouted at him, “You can’t propose to me just because I want to get pregnant.”
It was his turn to stare in disbelief. “This from a woman who plans on making a baby and having to deal with wet diapers and colic and all the rest of it alone for the next twenty years? Don’t talk to me like I’m the only crazy person in the room.”
They locked glares, neither one blinking or willing to back down. The wind picked up and blew in the open window, ruffling her hair around her face and something inside him tightened. Was he in love with her? Hell, yeah. He’d admired her forever, her body and her character, and love seemed to have snuck in as a natural progression, but that’s not what she needed to hear, not yet. She’d spent too long keeping him at ar
m’s length. He’d have to start somewhere they could agree. Max took a step closer, dropping his gaze to her lips. She licked them nervously, crossing her arms in front.
“What are you doing?” She shuffled backward, coming to a sudden stop against the raw wood of a two-by-six wall stud, flinging her hands out to catch her balance.
“Proving we’ve got a physical attraction between us.” One more pace put him in her personal space, their feet alternating on the floor, torsos brushing, hips close enough the heat of her body bled against his.
She leaned harder against the wood at her back, her breasts heaving beneath her T-shirt as she tried to widen the space between them, and he refused to give way. “What does that have to do— I mean, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
Max sank his fingers into her thick mane of dark hair and let his satisfaction escape in a low moan. God, he’d wanted to do that forever, and last night refusing her sexual advances had taken him to the breaking point. He needed this so badly he felt raw inside, aching with need for a taste of her. He tugged until her face tilted toward him, the smooth curve of her cheek shining in the midmorning sunlight. “Just in case you get some screwy idea of accepting only part of my terms. I don’t want you to imagine for even a moment we’re going to use any kind of turkey-baster method to get you pregnant.”
Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, probably to lambaste him. He took advantage of the opportunity and clamped their mouths together.
Stone cold sober.
Suddenly, that’s what she was—the blood pounding through her carrying more than enough oxygen to reinvigorate her dusty brain cells. He was kissing her. No, that was wrong. A kiss was something your granny gave you, something innocent and calm that made you slightly sleepy. This was a different beast altogether, like a flash fire rolling through and consuming everything in its path, and before she realized what she was doing, Tasha had wholeheartedly joined in.