Worth the Risk

by Karen Erickson

  She nodded. “I’m making the necessary changes and arrangements for your travel now. Everything should be in place before the day is through.”

  “Perfect.” He didn’t look pleased. He suffered through most public appearances for Worth, so she assumed this tour was the last thing he wanted to do. “I’d like you to prepare an itinerary as soon as you can. I need to know where I’ll be at all times for the duration of the trip.”

  “Yes, sir.” She returned her attention to her computer monitor, painfully aware that Alex stood there, silently watching. A tingle started at the top of her spine, slowly working its way down the length of her back, and she barely contained the shiver that wanted to move through her. She could feel his gaze upon her much like a physical caress and she held her breath. Wished she knew what he was thinking.

  Did he approve of what he saw? Did she displease him in any way? She worked so hard, harder than she ever had before for fear she would disappoint him.

  The very last thing she wanted to do.

  “Tessa?” His voice had lowered, roughly sexy, murmuring along her nerve endings.

  If he only knew the effect he had on her…

  “Yes?” She looked up at him, marveling yet again at his height, the very breadth of him. His shoulders were impossibly broad, emphasized by the exquisite cut of his dark suit jacket. He wore a Worth tie made of the finest silk, a lovely shade of blue that reminded her of the ocean.

  The blue almost matched the turbulent color of his eyes. His face was clean-shaven, not a hair out of place. He was so completely, utterly perfect she sometimes wondered if he was real.

  “I have a request.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air, and anticipation ran through her, sharp and potent.

  “Yes?” she urged when he still hadn’t said anything.

  Propping his hands on the edge of her desk, he bent down, setting his face just above hers. She pressed her feet into the ground, pushing her chair back the slightest bit, but that only made him loom in closer. “I want you—”

  A tremble moved through her and she released a shuddering breath. Those three words filled her with edgy suspense. So many possibilities to consider…

  “—to stop calling me sir.”

  The road to heartbreak is paved with honorable intentions…

  Fever Cure

  © 2011 Phillipa Ashley

  After a year dealing with her mum’s health scare and the end of a bad relationship, Keira Grayson was looking forward to kicking up her heels at her best friend’s wedding. Until she kicks off her (spare) knickers in front of the trifecta of perfection. Tom Carew. Son of an earl, honorable doctor and possibly the hottest man on the planet.

  One look at Keira’s delightful embarrassment, and Tom’s hormone meter spins off the charts. Trouble is, his bags are already packed to return to the jungles of Papua New Guinea. He has patients waiting—and amends to make for a terrible choice that left devastation in its wake.

  They both reason that indulging in a one-time dinner date won’t hurt…until their inhibitions melt away in the heat of their lethal sexual chemistry. Leaving Keira wondering if a sizzling fling is just what the doctor ordered, or another prescription for relationship disaster. And Tom fighting a battle against inner demons that could shatter both their hearts.

  Warning: This book contains a hot aristocratic doctor, sparky heroine, new uses for a chaise longue, a steamy shower scene and a knicker-ripping encounter in a four-poster bed.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Fever Cure:

  Now why wasn’t there a convenient chasm around when you wanted one? A nice big pit you could disappear into completely. Please don’t tell them about the pants, she pleaded silently.

  “We bumped into each other before the ceremony.”

  Her insides began to liquefy.

  “Keira mislaid something from her bag, and I picked it up.”

  Was that strangled sound really coming from her?

  “Absolutely.” He looked directly into her eyes as she held her breath. “I found her mobile from the church steps.”

  The tension ebbed away. Her shoulders slumped. It was all she could do to keep from letting out a cry of relief.

  Carrie beamed. “Wasn’t that nice of Tom?”

  “Very…noble,” Keira muttered through gritted teeth, still feeling the warm cradling of his palm around her fingers.

  “Tom’s a GP at the health centre,” offered Carrie.

  Keira shot him a hard stare. “Really?”

  Now just what was an aristocrat doing working in the local NHS clinic? It just didn’t figure. But then, Tom Carew was full of surprises.

  “So you’re a teacher?” he asked.

  She just couldn’t resist it. Sorry, but it had to be done. He’d enjoyed himself at her expense once too often today.

  She raised her glass to him. “Well observed.”

  He gave a mock bow in return. “A teacher and a comedian. It must be my lucky day.”

  Carrie gathered up her train. “We must go. My new in-laws await. Don’t forget to ask Tom to tell you about his work in Papua. It’s fascinating.”

  Carrie offered her cheek to be kissed, and Tom duly obliged, brushing her face with his lips and giving a bone-melting smile. It brought brightness to his eyes, a softening of his expression that made him look… The only way of describing it was “at home”. Yes, that was it. Comfortable, rather than edgy and uptight.

  “Fancy a pint, mate?” asked Matt.

  “No, he doesn’t,” said Carrie firmly, laying a hand on her new husband’s arm.

  “You go ahead,” said Tom. “I’ll join you in a moment.”

  Keira waved her hand as Carrie dragged Matt off, cringing inside. Why did brides try to fix you up? As if they could somehow inject you with a dose of their happiness and good fortune. Well, fairy tales didn’t happen, especially not to the likes of her, and definitely not with minor aristocracy.

  She couldn’t help glancing down at her bare toes. What must Tom think of her? No shoes, grubby feet, and he already knew—or thought he knew—what kind of underwear she wore. Well, she thought, two could play at that game, and she’d have bet fifty quid he’d got silk boxers on. They’d be black, of course, and clinging tightly to the contours of his firm backside. Suddenly, the urge to press her legs together was overwhelming. Fire shot through her as the image blew her brain. Tom, slipping his shorts over his thighs, the silk slithering over the powerful muscles she knew lay underneath.

  “Can I get you some champagne?” he asked.

  “Um. Oh yes. Yes, please.” So he was staying, then. He was probably just being polite.

  He called to a passing waiter, completely oblivious that he’d turned her mind to mush. “Could we have some champagne, please?”

  The waiter held out a silver tray. “Of course, sir.”

  He was offering her a crystal flute, holding it by the stem to keep the wine chilled.

  “So, you’re working as a GP at the health centre?” she asked, taking the glass carefully from his scarred hands. A cold bead of condensation slid down the stem and onto her fingertips.

  “That’s right,” said Tom, helping himself to an orange juice.

  Keira took a gulp of her wine. “Are you staying long in the city?”

  “Not if I can possibly help it.”

  She was momentarily floored. She hadn’t expected him to be rude; hadn’t seemed his style. She sipped her drink delicately and tried to keep her voice even, giving him another chance. “Is it that bad being back in London?”

  “No, it isn’t. Look, I’m sorry. I was rather rude just then.”

  “Yes, you were. In fact, if you were in my class, I’d really have to send you to the naughty corner,” said Keira in between unwisely large gulps of wine.

  Tom raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure the naughty corner is politically incorrect these days,” he said.

  Keira downed another large mouthful. “It is, but I think I could reinstate it, esp
ecially for you.”

  He’d done it again. Made her breasts prickle against the lace of her bra. She couldn’t get the image out of her mind. The one that had Tom stripped naked and standing in front of her desk with a half smile on his lips, waiting for her command… What on earth had they put in this champagne?

  His expression was deadpan. “Okay. I have apologised, but I can go to the naughty corner if you really want me to.”

  She shifted uncomfortably, trying not to imagine Tom pinning her to the wall of the stationery cupboard, lifting up her skirt, his hands tugging down her knickers, his mouth settling over her nipples.

  “That won’t be necessary,” she said, sounding prim as triple X-rated fantasies rampaged through her mind.

  He was a doctor. She might have known he had an understanding of when people weren’t telling him the truth. His face softened. “I should explain. What I meant to say is, it’s not that I have an allergy to the locals. It’s just that I’m only here for a few months. I’m working a short-term contract at the health centre; then I’m going back to Papua. This situation is merely temporary.”

  “Oh.”

  Temporary. Tom had just stood her under the power jet and turned the setting to “icy blast”. She might have known that meeting him was too good to be true.

  “That will be a loss to your patients.”

  He set his empty glass down on the table. “I’m sure they can’t wait to see the back of me. I don’t think I’m what they were expecting.”

  The silence was thick, filled only by the sharp scent of Tom’s aftershave and her heart, beating slow and hard. “You made a nice speech,” she said, trying to shift the conversation to more neutral territory. “It was very…sincere.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Short too.”

  “Now you’re teasing me, Ms. Grayson.” His eyes sparkled sexily, making the blood beat in her head.

  She gulped down another mouthful of fizz, hoping it would stop her feeling all shivery inside. “I’m not teasing you,” she said as bubbles burst on her tongue. “It really was very good. I mean it was witty and funny, but you managed to avoid any jokes about ex-lovers or tales about the groom dropping his trousers on a boozy night out.”

  “You know,” said Tom, “I don’t actually recall Matt losing his trousers. Then again, there was plenty of stuff I left out. Theft of traffic signs comes to mind, and there was an incident with a sheep… I didn’t think it would go down well with his new in-laws.”

  “You’re the soul of discretion, then?”

  “It is rather useful if you’re a doctor. You have to keep a lot of secrets, Keira, be they great big ones or little tiny ones.”

  She felt her cheeks warming again as he gave her that look that felt like an MRI of her innermost thoughts.

  “So you’ve been working in the rainforest. Carrie said it was in Papua New Guinea, at the station where Matt used to be a doctor?”

  “That’s right.”

  He beckoned to the waiter again and selected an orange juice from the tray. Keira shook her head. No way did she need any more stimulants.

  “How come you got to do that?” she asked. “Was it an exchange visit?”

  “Absolutely. It was with a medical charity. They send health professionals to places where they’re most needed.”

  “Papua sounds incredible. All those mountains, the jungle, the tribal culture.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Most people in the UK have never heard of it.”

  She laughed at his assumption. “There’s no need to sound quite so surprised. I am a teacher. We’ve been studying Melanesia with the children.”

  Then he paused and looked hard at her. “Really? And what have you discovered?”

  “Well—”

  His dark eyes sparkled in the half-light. “I can see I’m going to have to be firm with you, Ms. Grayson, or I’ll never get anything out of you. Come on!”

  “But…”

  “No buts. You’re coming with me.”

  He dumped his glass on a table and grabbed her free hand in his. Not gently, either, but firmly, his hand warm and confident around hers. Her head whirled like disco lights, and her heart thudded out a bass line. All because The Honourable Dr. Tom Carew was dragging her towards a darkened room, her body was zinging like she’d been rubbed down with a hot chili, and she didn’t want to do a damn thing about it.

  It takes a real man to wear a kilt. And a real woman to charm him out of it.

  Love is a Battlefield

  © 2012 Tamara Morgan

  Games of Love, Book 1

  It might be modern times, but Kate Simmons isn’t willing to live a life without at least the illusion of the perfect English romance. A proud member of the Jane Austen Regency Re-Enactment Society, Kate fulfills her passion for courtliness and high-waisted gowns in the company of a few women who share her love of all things heaving.

  Then she encounters Julian Wallace, a professional Highland Games athlete who could have stepped right off the covers of her favorite novels. He’s everything brooding, masculine, and, well, heaving. The perfect example of a man who knows just how to wear his high sense of honor—and his kilt.

  Confronted with a beautiful woman with a tongue as sharp as his sgian dubh, Julian and his band of merry men aren’t about to simply step aside and let Kate and her gaggle of tea-sippers use his land for their annual convention. Never mind that “his land” is a state park—Julian was here first, and he never backs down from a challenge.

  Unless that challenge is a woman unafraid to fight for what she wants...and whose wants are suddenly the only thing he can think about.

  Warning: The historical re-enactments in this story contain very little actual history. Battle chess and ninja stars may apply.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Love is a Battlefield:

  “You came!” Kate smiled up at him as they approached, and Julian had to remind himself to smile back. Flash teeth and relax. Laugh and flirt. The serious, competitive warrior he was on the field had a tendency to take over even when the situation didn’t call for it. And this situation, with a woman like that looking up at him with genuine pleasure in her hazel eyes, most definitely didn’t call for it. She was everything he didn’t know he found attractive in a woman, with a small and delicate build, a nose that turned up just a little at the tip and the kind of softness that normally put him on his guard. Cute but not obvious. Quiet but not shy. He wouldn’t have gone so far as to say she brought out his territorial instincts, but there was a definite urge to protect and serve.

  So he smiled, pleased to find it didn’t feel quite as forced as he expected it to. “Sorry we’re late. Michael wanted to do his hair.”

  Michael, whose longish, wavy hair almost always looked like it had been lifted straight off the pillow, grinned widely. “What can I say? I’m a vain man.”

  The women scooted their chairs to make room for them. Julian sat next to Kate—so close he could smell her slightly floral perfume. She was still wearing the tiny slip of a dress from before, but she’d allowed her brownish-blonde hair to fall down in soft waves almost to the middle of her back and changed to a pair of gold sandals with bands going halfway up her calf, winding and hugging her flesh in ways that seemed almost indecent.

  He had a hard time looking away. If it was possible to slap sex on a pair of legs, she’d done it.

  “Do you guys want something to drink?” Kate asked, dangling one of those perfect legs close to his own without even seeming to realize what she was doing.

  Her friend, Jada, on the other hand, leaned over the table, angling to give both him and Michael a clear view down the top of her bright red dress.

  “I’m going to bet you two are Scotch men. Neat?”

  He let Michael argue the finer points of ice in a drink with her. Jada was the type of woman Michael lived for—flashy, obvious. Julian had dated those types of women before, usually when he was on the job down in Arizona or on the road for the Ga
mes. For all their superficial trappings, women like that made great companions for the short term. But right now, a one-night stand was the last thing on his mind. His body was definitely warming for something a bit softer. A bit more real.

  He turned to Kate. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  She shrugged, and the thin strap of her dress fell along the gentle curve of her shoulder. He watched it, mesmerized.

  “A few minutes. It’s not a big deal. There was a blues singer on before the pianos started.”

  “Oh, it’s too bad we missed it.”

  Kate wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry about this place. It’s probably not your thing, pianos, is it?”

  Julian laughed. People always took one look at him and assumed the worst. “I’m a large man, Kate, but that doesn’t mean I’m a barbarian. A little jazz isn’t going to kill me.”

  “You never know. Jada is her own force of nature, and I thought maybe you guys got caught up in it against your will. Lord knows she’s made me do one or two things I regretted later.”

  Julian’s pulse picked up, and he leaned forward. That was a topic he could warm to. “’Like what?”

  Kate shook her head firmly. “No way. I’m going to need a few more drinks before those secrets start spilling.”

  “She’s being modest,” Jada interrupted, watching them both with a smile. “Kate here once drove an entire rugby team off the road. Their van tipped over into a ditch.”

  “They deserved it!” Kate declared, her eyes dancing. “Don’t believe a word she says. They were trying to cut in line after the rest of us had been waiting for hours to get through a single lane of traffic. I just blocked them from doing it, and they drove themselves off the road. What’s the point of driving a nice big Cadillac if you can’t use it for good?”

  “Did you stop to see if they were okay?” Julian asked, amused.

  “They didn’t really tip over. It was more of a gentle lean. You should have heard all the cars in line, honking their approval. I felt like a superhero.”