Lucky 7 Brazen Bachelors Contemporary Romance Boxed Set

by Caridad Piñeiro

  She could feel the fine sweat covering his body, the iron tautness of his muscles, and could only guess how much it had cost him to say those words.

  Until this moment, she’d had no idea what honor and respect truly meant. Now she did. They were alive and well in this hidden place, resting within her arms.

  Her heart melted, and there in a dark, musty closet, to the staccato beat of machine-gun fire, she fell in love with her soldier of fortune.

  Kiss of a Lifetime: Chapter Eight

  “Even if the US Marines came marching through that door right now,” Lacy whispered to the man above her, “I’d still want you to make love to me.”

  She must be crazy. But it was true.

  With a groan, his mouth claimed hers, demanding, claiming, stripping away her all defenses, all her past, all her future, until there was only now. Only him and her, a man and woman, in the deep, silken darkness together, united against the hostile world outside the door.

  He held her tight and she wrapped her legs around him. In a single powerful thrust, he plunged into her. She cried out, and he sucked the cry from her lips, taking her fingernails into his flesh without protest. He halted, and held very still within her, waiting as she absorbed the sting and adjusted to the newness of having him deep, deep in her body.

  “You okay?” he gently asked, kissing her hair, her face, her eyelids.

  Was she? She kissed him back, and made a small, experimental movement. A little soreness, and an overwhelming feeling of being impaled. She squirmed. It felt wonderful. All of it. And she hungered to experience every savage inch of him.

  “More than okay.” A low, needy sound escaped her. “Teach me.”

  So, he taught her. Oh, how he taught her. He taught her slowly, until the blood flowed like molasses in her veins and her bones dissolved. And quickly, until her mind soared and her body sang with a tune only he knew. He moved over her, within her, feeding her passion with the ambrosia of his desire. His long, scything strokes filled her to the hilt, faster, faster, and faster, until after what seemed like hours of pushing and being pushed to the limits of endurance and back again, she came apart in his arms, once again shattering in a thousand million shards of glittering ecstasy.

  Still caught in the torrent of sensation, she felt his body stiffen and his arms tighten around her. A roar started in his chest, only to be choked off as his mouth came down hard on hers. The power that shuddered through his muscled body as he reached his climax awed her, thrilling her with the sheer force of its intensity.

  And drove her over the edge all over again.

  Kiss of a Lifetime: Chapter Nine

  Lucy’s lover collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving. A low, guttural moan tore from his throat. “Oh, baby.” He stopped to take several gasping breaths. “Oh, sweetheart, just shoot me now and I’ll die a happy man.”

  She smiled against his shoulder. “Not a chance.”

  “No, wait,” he said. “On second thought, I think I’ve got one more condom.”

  She felt her eyes widen. She would never walk again, and he was already talking about a repeat performance. “I, uh…”

  “I normally use them to keep my blasting caps dry, but since I’m not planning on blowing up any bridges any time soon, I think I can spare it for other uses.”

  “Um…”

  “If you’re interested, that is.”

  “I…”

  His lips nibbled at her ear as he angled off her a little. After a moment, his hand smoothed over her sweat-dampened breasts and he let out a curse. “Aw, hell. I’m such an asshole. I’m sorry. I haven’t even asked how you are. If you liked it. If you’re hurt.”

  “Shhh.” She brought her hand to his cheek and tenderly ran her thumb along his strong jaw. “I loved it. Every second. You were unbelievable.”

  A breath of relief fanned across her temple. “Are you sore?”

  She chuckled. “Only when I move.”

  “Damn.” His voice cracked. “What can I—”

  “I’m joking.” She wasn’t, but it had been well worth every ache and bruise she’d end up with, and more.

  Much, much more.

  “Now, about that other condom…” she murmured.

  He actually purred when she tipped him over, sliding the Uzi down to their knees, maneuvered him around, and somehow managed to crawl on top of him.

  “Could take me a while to locate it. Maybe you could find something to occupy yourself with while I look,” he suggested.

  She was way ahead of him. And judging by his hoarse croak when she found what she was looking for, he wouldn’t be searching for that condom for a good, long while.

  Kiss of a Lifetime: Chapter Ten

  Lacy awoke with a start, disoriented and confused at first by the lack of light and the unmistakably male body she was sprawled over.

  A steady, reassuring hand stroked down her hair and bare back. “Awake, sweetheart?”

  It all rushed back to her in one heated, incredible flash of memory. Her whole body flamed in aroused mortification. Had it really happened?

  “Did I sleep long?”

  His hand continued downward, smoothing over her bottom and curving around to rest intimately at the top of her thighs between her legs. Her breath backed up in her lungs at the searing reaction of her flesh to his familiar touch.

  “A while. It should be dark outside by now.”

  The impact of his words hit her like a hammer. Dark outside. It was time to go. Time to leave the safe cocoon where together they had shared such extraordinary pleasures.

  “Ah.”

  Time to face the guns and the men who could kill her. Or worse. A shudder of fear rippled from her scalp to her toes.

  He felt it, of course. The man below, who missed nothing, even in the blackest darkness. His arms came around her. “It’s all right. I haven’t heard any soldiers for a while now. But we don’t have to go anywhere until you’re ready.”

  He pulled her shivering body close and kissed her.

  “I’m so scared.”

  “I know, honey. I know.”

  He kissed her again and she felt a bit less worried. She kissed him back and felt even better. When he rolled and tucked her under him she forgot all about her fears and thought only of his hot, hard body holding her in a crushing embrace. She spread her legs, and he was on the verge of thrusting into her when he broke off with a curse and spun off her, landing with another curse on one of his weapons.

  “Hell. We’ve used both of them.”

  He didn’t have to say what he was referring to. She swallowed. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does. I told you, I’m getting you out of here alive. And I’m not taking any chances with your future.”

  Disappointed, she bit her lip, nodding into the darkness. He sighed into the empty silence, and guided her hand to the irrefutable evidence that he was as frustrated as she was. When she curled her fingers around him, he gently removed them.

  “You’re killing me, woman.”

  She heard the jingle of his belt as he drew up his fatigues, then the grate of a zipper. When the click of a metal snap echoed through the closet, she resigned herself and groped around for her dress. She found his T-shirt instead. Squeezing her eyes closed, she put it to her nose, inhaling deeply.

  “There’s a small lavatory in the back of the museum,” he said quietly. “I’ll make sure no one’s around, then we can take turns.”

  “Okay.” She handed him his shirt, accepting her dress in return. When he shoved a box out of the way, freeing them from their cramped hideaway, she found standing up was a real adventure. She still had on her sandals, thank goodness, for the closet floor was covered by sharp-edged broken artifacts and little bits of light bulb. What she didn’t have was muscles or balance. Or the will to leave when he folded her in a quick embrace before opening the door to the outside world.

  Standing naked and trembling in his arms was something she knew she’d remember for as long as
she lived.

  “Stay here.” He raked her hair from her eyes and gave her a kiss for luck before raising his Uzi and cautiously opening the door and disappearing through it.

  Swiftly, she slid into her dress and buttoned it up, waiting with madly tripping heart for him to return.

  “All clear.”

  In the end, escaping the palace was remarkably easy. He knew his way around blindfolded, including all the secret, hidden exits built into the enclosure wall by some past, paranoid ruler. They moved like shadows in the dim moonlight, evading any notice from the few loudly celebrating guards.

  The capital city was small, but filled with back alleys and narrow passageways, which carried them past the out-of-control military troops who roamed the streets looking for opposition to the coup, and anyone else the brutes could harass with impunity.

  All too soon, the two of them arrived at the fashionable business center where the American consul had his office. Lacy recognized the building as they hunched in a hidden doorway across the street, reconnoitering the entrance.

  There were several Marine guards stationed at the gate, outside which a small crowd had gathered, clamoring and gesturing at them through the iron bars. The guards largely ignored the people, as did a couple of photojournalists lounging against the fence smoking, their cameras and press badges slung casually around their necks as their eyes swept up and down the street looking for news in the making. She wondered why they were hanging around the consulate instead of recording the killing and looting going on all over the chaotic city.

  “Ready?”

  Her attention snapped back to the man who had been true to his word and seen her through the day alive and well. They were fifty feet from safety, with no obstacle in sight.

  She nodded, puzzled when he searched her eyes, drawing the pad of his thumb across her cheek.

  “Thank you,” he said softly, looking at her intensely, as if measuring her face and memorizing it.

  She smiled, suddenly struck with an uneasy feeling. Wait. He was coming with her, wasn’t he? He couldn’t possibly be leaving her—

  “What are you doing?”

  He had whipped off his bandanna and was tying it securely around her ankle.

  Swinging his Uzi onto his back, he grabbed her under the knees and swept her off her feet into his arms. “Decoy. Let’s go.” Carrying her, he strode purposefully across the deserted street toward the consulate building.

  It was only then she spotted the line of soldiers lurking behind them under the awning of a nearby business. They pointed their weapons right at his back as he traversed the wide-open street. Lacy’s heart stopped dead in her chest for the endless moments it took for the soldiers to argue with one another, deciding whether or not to shoot them down like dogs.

  He clutched her close to his chest and kept on walking.

  The hair rose on the back of her neck, and she was certain she was living her last moments on earth. Panicked, she looked up into his eyes, desperate to say something. Something that would convey the love and gratitude for the incredible hours they’d spent together, for the gallant way this remarkable man had saved her life.

  He winked at her.

  Something in her face must have changed, for the soldiers put down their guns and turned away, apparently dismissing them as not being a threat.

  “Evening, boys,” her hero said as he strode up to the gate.

  “Hey, Colonel,” one of the young Marine guards greeted him. “What y’all got there?”

  “Lady in distress,” he answered calmly. “One of ours. Rescued her,” he added with a roguish grin.

  The cadre of Marines chuckled as one of them unlocked the gate.

  Lacy drank in the sight of her lover’s face illuminated in the spotlights from the consulate. It was angled, rugged, and every bit as handsome as she’d remembered from the brief moments of their daylight meeting. Rich auburn locks fell in sensual disarray, painting the portrait of a classic bad boy. She hugged him close as he deposited her feet on the ground.

  “You did it. I can’t believe you really did it!”

  “Believe it, honey. I always keep my promises. Especially to pretty ladies.”

  “Then promise me you aren’t leaving,” she said, unwilling to let him go. “Not yet.”

  He smiled down at her with a sad, yearning smile, his eyes filled with unspoken wishes.

  Oh, God.

  She looked into those so-gentle eyes and tried to be as brave as he. She had no right to hold onto him. None at all. He had simply done what she’d asked in that closet—a silly, frightened girl who’d needed comfort in the most elemental way. He’d gladly provided it, but it was unreasonable to think their lovemaking could have affected him as much as it had her.

  He bent down, and she watched him come toward her with the certain knowledge that this would be their last kiss. The one that would have to last her a lifetime.

  Their lips met, pausing on the brink of the kiss for an endless moment before coming together.

  Suddenly, a bright flash lit up the darkness around them with a brilliant streak of white. Before she knew what was happening, he had broken the kiss and plastered her body to his, swung his Uzi into his hand and aimed it at the source of a cluster of flashes.

  His face was fierce, protective, his teeth gritted together in an animal snarl. It was only by the grace of God he stopped before he shot the photographers responsible.

  With a disgusted gesture, he lowered his weapon and loosened his grip on her. “You better go before I kill someone,” he muttered. “Go on. You’re safe now.”

  “Thank you,” she said, fighting the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. She told herself it was the knowledge that she was finally safe making her so emotional. “I’ll never forget what you did for me.”

  Not one single, solitary moment of it.

  “Take care of yourself, sweetheart,” he said. He laid a hard kiss on her mouth, then strode off into the darkness without looking back.

  Kiss of a Lifetime: Chapter Eleven

  CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA

  PRESENT DAY

  Lacy closed her boss’s door behind her, careful not to shut it too hard in her excitement, and calmly, calmly, very calmly walked out of the office area, down the stairs, and into the museum lobby.

  She’d done it! She’d finally done it!

  She wanted to scream for joy. She wanted to run around in circles and jump up and down like a maniac. She wanted to throw her arms around every one of the adorable kindergartners trooping in past the ticket counter and hug them all till they turned blue.

  But that kind of behavior would never do, so instead, she straightened her conservative blue suit and allowed herself a blinding smile as her high heels clicked across the elegant granite floor toward the coffee shop.

  She couldn’t believe it.

  Lacy Warrick, Curator of Indigenous Crafts.

  Okay, Interim Curator. But Mr. Beasley had made it quite clear the “Interim” part was just a formality, until the full Board of Directors of the Charleston Institute of Art could vote her into the position permanently. They’d all been very impressed with the job she’d done as assistant curator of Modern Art, and they fully expected her to do even better in her new position.

  Pausing by the fountain that gurgled in the middle of the Institute’s spacious lobby, she dug in her pockets for a penny. Her hand shook as she tossed the coin into the fountain, carrying with it the—hopefully—last in a long series of prayers and wishes.

  Just a formality.

  She had well and truly reached her goal. Nine years of hard work, grueling persistence, and heartfelt sacrifice had paid off, at last. Gone forever were the poverty and shame of her childhood. She and Caleb had finally arrived, safe, respected, and well-provided for, at the destination she had mapped out for them so long ago.

  Again she smiled, thinking of her beautiful son. His boyish sensibilities would no doubt cringe at that description, but to her, the
re was no more beautiful person on earth. Oh, there’d been days along the way she had cursed the youthful impulsiveness and folly which had resulted in his existence, but never really seriously. Each night, she gave thanks for the wonderful child she had been blessed with.

  Tonight, there would be some major celebrating in the Warrick household.

  Seating herself on the edge of the fountain, she dipped her fingers in the water, and thought of the magazine hidden at the bottom of her briefcase.

  Mercenary Life.

  Would this be the year he’d answer?

  More important, did she really care anymore?

  She thought about that for a long moment, carefully testing her once-raw feelings on the subject of Caleb’s father. And found her answer.

  No.

  She no longer cared if he answered or not.

  With a decisiveness born of triumph, she scooped up her briefcase and grabbed the magazine from inside. She flipped to the classifieds and peered down at the two short lines of her ad, circled in red. Freed from the years of struggle after managing to both graduate and birth a child in the same month, she saw the ad clearly for what it really was. A crutch. An appeal for help.

  Help that was no longer needed.

  No, she really didn’t care anymore. She’d tried to inform the man he was a father. But if he hadn’t seen fit to contact her by now, she absolved herself of all responsibility, guilt-free. She’d done what she could. It was time to rip out that page and forget the nameless soldier of fortune who had charged straight out of her fantasies—and disappeared back into them just as quickly.

  Leaving only the shock of a lifetime and a couple of magazine covers to remember him by.

  Rising from the fountain wall, she strode straight over to the nearest waste receptacle and flung the magazine into it, dusting her hands together as it made a satisfying thunk.

  There.

  Roger willco, over and out of her life.

  She felt absolutely liberated.

  Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she turned once again toward the coffee shop. But a glance at her watch made her gasp. Damn. It was later than she thought. Her ten o’clock appointment was probably already waiting upstairs. Not a good idea to miss her first meeting as the museum’s newest curator.