by Liz Lincoln
“And I am so damn in love with you, Dr. Bree Novak. You are the most amazing, brilliant, kind, funny, passionate woman I’ve ever met. These last few weeks without you only showed me how much I need you in my life. And if you’re going to Pittsburgh or Durham, we’ll figure something out. Lots of guys in the league do long-distance things during the season. I can spend the off-season anywhere. But wherever you are, that’s where I’m calling home.”
He loved her. Bree melted. There was no other way to describe the sensation of everything inside her going soft and warm. She framed his face with her hands. “I love you too. Everything you said, all of that. Me too.”
“Yeah?” He grinned, his dimples and smile lines deeper than she’d ever seen them. She had a picture of him on her phone, after he caught the winning touchdown in last year’s playoff game. Even that expression didn’t compare to the pure joy on his face now.
She lifted her head and brushed her lips against his. “So much.”
He sank into her again, a kiss that went on and on. I am so damn in love with you. She couldn’t quite comprehend the idea that Marcus James loved her. So she didn’t bother trying. She just reveled in the feel of his body against hers, in the way he touched her, in the way she could feel his heart pounding even through their clothes.
And then those clothes fell away, and he was inside her, making love to her. She gave him everything she had, her body, her soul, her heart.
Eventually, their sensations turned more from tender to hungry. When she came, it was the most wonderful orgasm of her life, because she loved him. And he loved her.
He got up to take care of the condom and returned with a blanket so they could snuggle on the couch. Wrapping his arms around her, Marcus asked, “Have you decided about your job yet?”
Bree absently traced the lines of the dragon’s head on his chest. “I’m going to work for Celia.”
Breath rushed out of him. “I’m so glad. Not just because it makes things easier for us—though that is a nice perk—but because you truly seemed excited about the idea. That’s why I talked to her in the—”
“I know.” She pressed her lips to his shoulder in an openmouthed kiss. “And while I didn’t like the way you did it, I do owe you a huge thanks.”
“My pleasure.” He squeezed her softly.
They fell into comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of Dorito crashing into things or knocking things over
“The other day, I was thinking about how I wanted to spend my Christmas since I’m not going home. And this, right here, is what I wanted. Christmas Eve on my couch, holding you.” He pressed his lips to her forehead.
“I will have to leave in a few hours. I’d invite you to my parents’ with me, but they don’t have an extra room, and I don’t think they’d be cool with me sharing my old twin bed with a guy.” She tilted her head so she could look at him. “Besides, my brothers definitely need warning before I bring home the Dragons tight end I’m dating. They will lose their shit. And when the time comes, I will enjoy every fucking second of it.”
He gave her his lazy half smile that made her stomach feel funny and made her want him all over again. It was entirely possible she’d never get enough of this man.
“I’d hate to be the reason someone loses their shit on Christmas.”
“Are you kidding? I think I’ll wait until Christmas dinner to tell them I have a new boyfriend. I can’t wait to watch them lose their shit over beef and mashed potatoes. They won’t lose it as much as if I brought you, but they still will. In fact, before I leave, we need to take a kissing selfie or something.”
“I can do that.” Laughing, he kissed her and pulled her on top of his body. He was far from ready for a second round, but he wasn’t entirely uninterested.
“Pizza should be here soon,” she murmured against his mouth.
“Then I guess we’ll just make out a little bit.” He nibbled at her lower lip, then soothed it with his tongue. He kissed along her jaw until he could pull her earlobe into his mouth. “And after we eat, I’ll still have plenty of time to make love to the woman I love.”
Bree couldn’t think of anything she wanted more.
For all my physicist friends who keep asking “When are you going to write a romance about a physicist?” Bree, and this book, are for you.
Acknowledgments
As always, huge thanks to my agent, Jessica Alvarez, for helping me find ways to make this book better. And to my editor, Junessa Viloria, for helping me see what was missing so I could make Bree into the character she needed to be. Thanks to the whole Loveswept team for giving the Dragons all the love they deserve.
Huge thanks always to Liz Czukas, who holds my hand through all the crises of confidence, helps me brainstorm, talks with me about my characters as if they’re real, and who is an all-around wonderful friend. And huge thanks to all my other writer friends—way too many of you to list by name, sorry!—for the love, support, and free guidance you offer. Writers are the best.
I owe huge gratitude to Jay Sorgi and Mike Freeman for patiently answering what probably seem like strange, random questions about football. And extra thanks to Mike for keeping me accurate on the Star Wars versus Star Trek front.
To the many physics graduate students I met while my husband was a classmate of theirs, thanks for letting me hang around and soak in the grad student experience so that one day I could write a character in that situation. Who knew? My husband gets extra credit for this book, since he had to answer all sorts of questions about dissertations, physics, and graduate school in science. And I owe thanks to our friend Kevin Kramer for answering the specific medical physics questions that Dan couldn’t handle.
Thank you to my mom, who has been my biggest champion since I wrote my first book at age ten.
Thank you to my therapist for keeping me from being eaten alive by my anxiety. And to my many doctors and the meds they prescribe to keep me mostly functioning.
There are so many other people and I’m sure I’ve forgotten more than one. If that’s you, I’m so sorry. I thank you too.
And always, always, the biggest thank you to my family. To my kids for letting me work when they wish I could play, for celebrating my accomplishments with me, and for just being great kids. And Dan, besides sharing your physics knowledge and letting me hang around you during grad school, thank you for being an amazing father, an understanding writer-spouse, my biggest support and cheerleader, and my very own happily ever after.
BY LIZ LINCOLN
On the Line
Swagger
PHOTO: © ANDY TARNOFF
LIZ LINCOLN has been concocting stories as long as she can remember, and from the beginning they involved two people falling in love. When she’s not writing, she spends her time rooting for the UW Badgers and the Green Bay Packers (or yearning for the return of football season), cross-stitching sassy sayings or nerdy characters (Wonder Woman is her favorite), and drinking too much Diet Coke. She lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with her husband, two kids, two cats, and a turtle.
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Read on for an exciting look at
On the Line
by Liz Lincoln
Available from Loveswept
Chapter 1
Carrie Heron’s toes wiggled impatiently inside her shoes. It wasn’t the cashier’s fault that Carrie had put off grocery shopping until eight o’clock at night, when her stomach was ready to digest itself. But it was his fault he was possibly the slowest cashier on the planet.
The man in line behind Carrie set his purchases on the belt, drawing her attention.
The first thing she noticed were his tanned arms, all thick, corded muscle. Her gaze moved up to his wide shou
lders and solid chest, wearing a maroon Milwaukee Dragons T-shirt. She took in his jaw, covered in a neatly trimmed blond beard, and his blond hair, pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck. His nose was pink with fading sunburn, like he spent his days outside.
Her toes stopped wiggling so they could curl. She was a sucker for tall, muscular guys. And for beards. And man buns. And blondes. If he had blue eyes, she quite possibly would jump him right here in the grocery line. They certainly had plenty of time.
She allowed herself a glance at his eyes.
Clear, light blue.
Had someone sucked the air out of the grocery store? She felt a bit faint.
Beardy McMuscles glanced up and caught her looking. He gave her a conspiratorial smile, inclining his head slightly toward the cashier.
Carrie managed to keep her cool, smiling back and rolling her eyes. Inside, her pulse fluttered and her toes uncurled so they could curl again. Good thing she’d opted for tennis shoes and not flip-flops. She hated getting her feet wet in the rain, even a warm early-September storm like tonight’s.
She made herself look away before the eye contact became staring and he decided she was creepy. Her gaze dropped to his purchases, two items behind hers on the conveyer belt. A bunch of bananas and a box of super-plus tampons.
Tampons. Well then.
He was clearly married. And absolutely smitten, because no man bought feminine hygiene products for anyone but a wife he adored.
Like it mattered. She wasn’t going to ask him out or anything.
“That’ll be $127.49.”
The cashier’s high-pitched voice drew her attention away from McMuscles. When had food gotten so expensive? She flashed the teen a quick smile, then reached into her purse for her wallet.
Her fingers brushed her keys, cellphone, lip balm, sunglasses, a paper napkin she needed to throw away, loose change. No wallet. She set the bag on the edge of the counter and peered inside. No wallet. She took out most of the items, one by one. No wallet.
Dammit. She didn’t have time for this. Not only was she starving, but she was supposed to do laundry at her brother’s tonight. He’d threatened to start watching the last episode of The Walking Dead without her if she didn’t show.
“Well,” she said, her voice overly bright, “I guess I left my wallet at home.” She shoved her hand into her hair, trying to think. At least she was too frustrated to get embarrassed by her extreme idiocy. “Can you…is there a way to set this aside, and I guess I’ll run home and grab it, then come back?” She couldn’t wait and come back tomorrow. If she didn’t buy the food tonight, she’d have to get takeout for dinner. Which didn’t fit into her unemployment budget.
She resisted the urge to scream in frustration, biting down on the inside of her lips to hold in the sound.
“Sure, I can suspend the transaction and leave it at customer service,” the boy said. He barely looked older than her former seventh-grade students. Shouldn’t he be home, getting ready for school tomorrow?
“Thanks,” she said, voice weary. “I appreciate it.”
Bananas appeared in front of the cashier. “Here, add these to her total. I got it.”
Carrie’s heart stopped for a moment, leaving room for her stomach to drop to her feet. Mouth gaping, she turned to McMuscles. He was sliding his credit card through the machine.
“Wha…I…you…” Until a few months ago, she’d been responsible for the education of Milwaukee’s youth. Yet she couldn’t form a full word.
He grinned—of course he had perfect teeth—and for a second she couldn’t catch her breath. Hot man. Buying her groceries. She was hardly a damsel in distress—OK, maybe a little in distress, but not a damsel—and he wasn’t a knight. All those muscles would probably break his armor. But oh, she was going to swoon.
“Thank you,” she finally managed to say. With that grin, he was a million times hotter. That, and his enormous generosity, had her completely stunned.
“No problem.”
He had a deep but gentle voice, at odds with his size and immense masculinity.
When the cashier started to put his items in a bag, McMuscles waved him off. “No bag. I got it.” He took the bananas and tampons in one large hand.
“Have a good night.” The cashier handed over the receipt.
Carrie gave him another awkward smile that felt forced. She was still in shock. People didn’t buy someone else’s groceries. It was a huge gesture and she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it. “Thank you again. Really. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”
“No problem. I’m glad to help.” He walked beside her as she pushed her cart toward the exit.
“Your wife is a lucky woman. Very few men would be willing to buy tampons.”
He cleared his throat and looked a little embarrassed.
Why had she said that? She was racking up the idiot points tonight.
“I’m not married. It’s for my daughter.” His ears and neck turned red, which was both adorable and sexy.
“Oh, wow, I wouldn’t have guessed you were old enough to have a daughter who…” Realizing what she’d said, Carrie clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. That was rude.” Shut up, Carrie.
“No, it’s OK. I was young. And she’s only twelve.” His blush crept to his cheeks and eventually his whole face was red. He stopped right before they reached the door. “It’s, uh, you know, her first time. She’ll know what to do with these, right? I mean, girls know these things, talk about them with their friends. Yeah?” He waved the box of tampons.
Super-plus tampons. Carrie clenched her thighs at the idea of how uncomfortable that poor girl would be. Shaking her head, she pushed past the awkwardness to say, “Nope. Those are way too big for a twelve-year-old girl. I can’t let you give her those.”
Humor danced in his eyes as he narrowed them at her. Those gorgeous blue eyes, framed by thick dark lashes that didn’t quite go with his blond hair. “I buy your groceries for you, and you repay me by giving me a hard time?” The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile.
He was teasing her. OK, she could do teasing. She nodded vigorously, matching his almost-smile. “Seriously, I’m saving your daughter from a much worse time.”
As quickly as it had appeared, his teasing expression faded. “So what’s…shit.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, then glanced skyward, his face tight. He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, and it was so sexy, it had Carrie clenching her thighs again.
They were discussing his daughter and feminine hygiene products and she was turned on. When had she gotten so pathetic?
“What do I get her? I don’t…I have no idea.”
She had to put away her groceries, scarf down dinner, and take her laundry over to her brother’s before he started their show without her. It was already after eight o’clock, and her stomach was yelling at her. She shouldn’t do this.
And yet…
She swung her cart back toward the aisles. He’d bought her groceries. It was the least she could do for him. For his daughter. “Come on.” She put her hand on his forearm and pulled him with her. If she was going to do this, she should at least get to feel those amazing muscles.
He flexed under her hand, and a zap of electricity shot through her, hitting her square in the chest. He was warm and solid—so very solid—and she wanted to touch him everywhere.
Geez. It wasn’t like she’d gone years since her last time. But Lord, he was just so masculine. And big. And muscled.
And adorably embarrassed.
He followed, though she had no illusions that she actually had the power to move him. “What are we doing?”
“I’m gonna help you figure out what you need to buy.” She turned down the aisle they needed.
He stopped, so she did too. Because it would be weird to keep touching him, she removed her hand. He glanced down at his arm, then at her hand, then up to her.
Her stomach, still worki
ng its way back up from her feet, thumped.
“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you have things to do. Mads and I will figure it out.” He gestured to the shelves. “You can tell me what she needs.”
He had no idea how many choices there were. If she said “Get maxi pads,” he would be lost. “I teach seventh grade. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t help out a girl stuck with her dad for her first period.” She glanced at him. “No offense. But no girl wants to share this with her dad. I promise.”
He ran his hand over his head and made a noise. She couldn’t tell if it was assent, dissent, or plain annoyance. Whatever emotion it conveyed, it was damn sexy.
“I thought you were in a hurry.”
Right there in the feminine hygiene aisle, she gave up on The Walking Dead. “This is more important. A girl never forgets her first period. It’s a rite of passage. But a somewhat miserable one, considering you’re bleeding and have no idea what to do.”
He looked lost and a little desperate. “I thought girls talked about this stuff.”
Carrie thought back to her preteen years. She and her friends had wondered what it would be like, but they didn’t talk about practical stuff like what to do. Only one girl in her group had gotten her period before Carrie, and she was the shy, quiet one. So Carrie had gone to her mom, and her mom got out a box of pads and explained what to do. Then they’d gone to get ice cream and some new comic books.
“Not really. Not until they’re older and all complaining about having their period.” Carrie gave him a smile she hoped was sympathetic and encouraging. Poor guy. It couldn’t be easy being a single dad for a tween girl. “But her first period is a big deal. Maybe even a bigger deal than the first time she has sex.”
“Jesus! She’s twelve!” He stepped back, glaring at her like she’d suggested his daughter was the Antichrist. “She is not having sex.”
His reaction was so vehement, so typical dad, Carrie couldn’t help laughing. “No, I didn’t mean she is. I mean this is a big deal too. You want it to be a positive thing. And if you give her a gigantic tampon, you’ll terrify her.”