On the Corner of Heartache and Hopeful--MIC

by Lynda Bailey

  Hot.

  Even the inner cop whimpered and she gave it a mental shove.

  Pull it together, Asher.

  “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I was looking for Mr. or Mrs. Daniels – ”

  His brows snapped together with a frown.

  “They’re dead. For the last five years. Car accident.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I was headed to the old Asher cabin down the road and my car got stuck.”

  “You were trying to get out there in this?”

  Incredulous, he gestured and the blanket slipped just a bit, exposing another inch of taut waist and a narrow pelt of dark hair under his navel that arrowed downward in a most interesting manner.

  Evie swallowed and kept her eyes on his.

  “I just need a phone to call the garage, if that’s okay.”

  “Colin?” The breathy voice drifting down the hall had Evie’s face heating in a blush, despite her shivers, as her brain stuttered back into working order.

  Two cars in the driveway, panting sex god in the doorway. Way to go, Asher. You just cock-blocked your new neighbor.

  Said sex god muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Fucking hell,” and stepped back to open the door.

  “Give me five minutes and I’ll take you myself.”

  “You don’t have to do that, really.”

  She wavered slightly as she stepped into the warmth of the house, closing her eyes for a moment as heat curled around her frozen limbs and she shuddered in reaction.

  “Colin.”

  The voice was less breathy and more annoyed, and Evie caught a glimpse of a buxom blonde in a blue lace confection at the top of the stairs. It looked uncomfortable, but Evie supposed it wasn’t designed to be worn for long. The woman’s silicone breasts were clearly trying to make a strategic escape to avoid chafing.

  “Wait here while I get some clothes on.” He pointed toward a living room, where a fire crackled merrily in the fireplace and the remains of a romantic interlude were strewn on the coffee table – half a bottle of wine, a couple of glasses.

  “It’s really not necessary – ”

  The sex god paused at the foot of the stairs, impatient.

  “Pete Jackson runs the garage by himself, and I’m pretty sure he’s got his hands full helping other stranded drivers crazy enough to be out in this mess. I’m not going to make him drop everything to come all the way out here when I can have you over at the Asher cabin in fifteen minutes. Okay?”

  Evie started to retort, then shut her mouth and nodded. She was cranky, wet, and still freezing. If there was ever a time to make her Type-A tendencies take five, this was it. Her half-naked knight in shining blanket turned his back on her and headed up the stairs, treating her to the sight of the strong curve of his spine and more slabs of muscle leading down to what was no doubt a perfectly sculpted ass.

  Evie squelched the long-dormant lust-circuits that sparked to life and made a bee-line for the fireplace.

  “I’M BEING PUNISHED,” COLIN muttered as he pulled on jeans in front of a seriously pissed off Deirdre Small. She was busily covering up those bombshell curves she had been so busily baring for him just a little while ago.

  Sorry, old buddy, he thought to his poor, neglected cock.

  “I knew this wasn’t going to happen.”

  “Come on, Deirdre, this will only take a few minutes. Then I’ll be back and we can – ”

  “I’m not in the mood anymore.”

  Fully dressed, she glared at him with icy baby blues.

  “Last week it was that meeting for the Harvest Festival, and the week before it was the high school pep rally, and the week before that it was that stupid Town Hall meeting that went over by like, six hours. It’s always something, Colin!”

  “I’m the mayor, Deirdre, remember? You were at the swearing-in?”

  “Well, I didn’t realize that meant you were never going to fuck me again! You work twenty-four hours a day and now you’re leaving me to go help some stranded tourist?”

  “I couldn’t just leave her out there. What do you want me to do?”

  “Get your priorities straight, Mr. Mayor.”

  Fluffing her blond curls, she disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  Colin sighed and reached for his boots. Deirdre had always been something of a drama queen, but she was eager and available and more interested in his body than in any long-term relationship. Unfortunately, in recent weeks, the sex – when his schedule actually opened up enough to permit such a thing – had become a little boring. Colin couldn’t quite pinpoint the problem. She was hot, uninhibited, and always let him take charge. Lately, it just left him a little…uninspired.

  He pulled on a sweater and grabbed a clean sweatshirt from a drawer before reaching for his keys and heading back downstairs. Maybe once he took care of his clueless half-drowned guest, Deirdre would be back in the mood to help him burn off some of the stress he’d built up in the six weeks since he’d become mayor of Bright’s Ferry. Colin sighed, knowing she’d be out the door by the time his truck cleared the driveway. Irritation sizzled through him and he decided to place the blame squarely on the crazy woman downstairs.

  “I thought you might want – ”

  Colin stepped into the living room and stopped short, awareness prickling along every nerve ending. Talk about inspiration.

  His guest was standing in front of the fireplace, eyes closed, mouth dropped open in pleasure as she absorbed the heat. Her hair was drying to long ribbons of rich brown, and she’d removed the soaked hoodie to reveal a white tank top that lovingly hugged a curvy, compact little body and sweet breasts that would fit his hands to perfection. Colin drank in every line, feeling a little like a voyeur, and then frowned as his eyes landed on the bandages that covered one shoulder and spread down her side.

  The frown deepened at the sight of the gun in the shoulder holster, lying on the coffee table.

  “I hope you have a permit for that.”

  She looked up as he spoke, her clear gray eyes wide, framed by thick lashes. Her face was devoid of makeup, and she nervously licked a lush lower lip.

  “I’m a cop. That is, I was a cop.”

  God, she’s pretty. He hadn’t noticed before, but now she was warm and dry, with firelight licking along those sweet curves. The hard punch of lust surprised him, settling low in his abdomen. He struggled to focus on more important things.

  “What happened?” He gestured at her bandages.

  “It’s nothing.” She reached for her soaked hoodie, grimacing in distaste.

  “Here.” Colin stepped forward with the sweatshirt, and for a moment it looked like she was going to turn it down. “Come on, I’m just trying to be helpful.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  His skepticism must have shown on his face because she had the grace to blush and snatch the sweatshirt from his hands. For a moment, Colin watched her try to pull it over her head, jostling her bad side as little as possible, and trying to smother the little gasps of pain when she moved the wrong way. Rolling his eyes, he stepped forward and carefully untangled her from the fabric. She stiffened immediately. Colin worked on keeping his hands to himself, though his fingers tingled at the accidental brush of soft skin at her waist where her tank rode up. He stepped back.

  “Thanks,” she murmured grudgingly, “I’m Evie.”

  The sweatshirt bagged on her, covering her to her thighs and slipping off one shoulder as she reached out a hand. Something hot moved through Colin at the sight of her wrapped in his clothes, but he shook it off and enveloped her hand in his, noting the firm grip and graceful fingers.

  “Colin Daniels. Welcome to Bright’s Ferry.”

  And here’s an excerpt from my sexy contemporary romance, BATTLE-BORN LOVE; available now through Amazon.com. http://amzn.com/B007GGKK1U

  BATTLE-BORN LOVE

  by Lynda Bailey

  Chapter One

  Rory Dawson charged thr
ough the door ready for a fight.

  Too bad the only person in the tiny office was Eldon James, the fifty-year-old Paiute Indian who was as much a part of Dawson Repo as the battered tow truck parked outside.

  Eldon looked up from his scarred desk, concern on his face. “I take it things didn’t go well in court.”

  Rory stomped to the other desk as best she could in the low heeled sandals that pinched her feet to a smaller size. She plopped into the swivel chair with the torn vinyl and pulled off the torturous foot garb. Shedding her panty hose and denim skirt also held great appeal, but she figured waltzing around in her skivvies at eleven in the morning, even with the late March temperature nearing an unseasonable ninety degrees, probably wasn’t a good idea. She leaned her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes.

  God, she hated her life.

  Seconds later, Eldon’s chair creaked then her desk moaned as he perched on the edge. “Wanna talk?”

  No, she didn’t want to talk. Tears burned her eyes, but she battled them away. Breaking down wouldn’t help anything. The silence stretched out long and thin.

  “How much to bail him out this time?”

  God bless Eldon and his ability to cut to the meat of a matter. She forced herself to meet his gaze. “Ten grand.”

  He shook his head with a heavy sigh. “Guess that Reno judge isn’t gonna give him any leeway this time, huh?”

  “Not in the least.” She rubbed at the ache spanning her forehead. “With all his priors, we should be grateful his case didn’t get booted up to Federal Court.”

  “How’d he look?”

  “Pale. Scared. Old.”

  “Where you gonna get that kind of money?”

  Biting her lower lip to stop any trembling, Rory lifted her shoulders in a short, helpless shrug.

  “I’ve got a couple thousand you can borrow.”

  She snapped upright in her chair. “I’m not borrowing money from you. You and Ellie just bought that house. Your money needs to go to curtains or landscaping or whatever else Ellie thinks of. Besides, I sign your paycheck. If you’ve got that much money, I must be paying you too much.”

  Eldon grinned, his teeth a brilliant white against his dark skin. “We both know that ain’t the case.”

  She forced her mouth into a pitiful semblance of a grin. “Then no more talk about borrowing money. He’s my old man. I’ll take care of business. Somehow.” She straightened her shoulders, shoving her helplessness aside. “Is the ‘Vette outside the one we got the repo order on yesterday?”

  “Yep. Parked pretty as you please at the mall.”

  “Keys?”

  Eldon shook his head and headed for the back door. “Maybe I can jimmy the lock.”

  “No doubt it’s an electronic system.”

  “I’ll try anyway.” He paused in the doorway to look at her. “You should go home, boss. You look beat.”

  Left alone, Rory lost the battle to keep her head up. Fatigue crumbled her forward until her desk became a pillow.

  She looked beat because she was beat. She wished she’d been smart enough to remember a change of clothes before going to court. A worn pair of jeans, an old T-shirt and ratty tennis shoes would make her feel better, physically at least.

  In a burst of determination, she sat up and reached for her Rolodex. Maybe she could borrow Pop’s bail money. Her heart wailed at each blank card she turned.

  Ten thousand dollars!

  Where in the world would she get that kind of money?

  Jail time might do him good, she thought bitterly. Prove to him that his actions had consequences. She barked a laugh. The hollow sound echoed off the bare walls. Right. Consequences. For her.

  Rory pressed the heels of her hands to her temples. The headache she’d picked up after her father had gotten arrested three days ago threatened to leak out her ears.

  She couldn’t leave Pop in jail. She’d taken care of him ever since turning thirteen, when her mom split. She couldn’t stop now. No matter what, he was family.

  The only family she had left.

  She stood, hoping Eldon had aspirin in his desk, when the door burst open.

  And into her office strode a commanding masculine presence.

  He wore authority better than his charcoal gray, tailored suit. Tattered jeans and a tank top would be a better fit with his bronze complexion and sun-streaked brown hair which brushes the top of his suit collar.

  Recognizing the controlled look of indignation, the tight-fisted stance, she pulled back her shoulders. No longer a distraught daughter, she was now a businesswoman.

  She dealt daily with people enraged that their property had been repossessed, through no fault of their own, of course. Pricey suit or not, she knew exactly who she was dealing with. Still, when his acorn brown eyes honed in on her, she was glad she wore her best, if only, skirt.

  “Who’s in charge here?”

  His demanding tone failed to intimidate her. But a hot shiver of anticipation did skate down her spine at his silky baritone voice. She curved her lips into a smile. “How can I help you?”

  “You can help,” he enunciated each syllable as though she were a child, “by telling me where your boss is.”

  Her smile vanished. What a patronizing, chauvinistic jerk. Before she could set this guy straight, Eldon came through the back door and the stranger shifted his attention to him.

  “Are you in charge here?”

  When Eldon shook his head, Mr. Personality drew a hand down his face with a long-suffering sigh. “Could one of you please tell me who is in charge here?”

  Eldon hiked his thumb in her direction. “She is.”