She sifted her fingers through his soft hair. “It will be hard to top this next Christmas, but I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
He squeezed her even tighter. “Forever.”
“Yeah, forever.”
If you’re HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO,
check out HelenKay Dimon’s latest,
out now from Brava…
“You know something?” Josh cocked his head to the side as the corner of his mouth tugged upward. “I just figured out what it is about you that doesn’t fit.”
“Pardon me?”
He pointed at her forehead. “The way you talk. It’s what throws off this whole picture.”
A wave of confused dizziness hit her. “I have no idea—”
“There’s emotion in your voice, well, sort of, but your body never moves.” He nodded his head as if warming to the subject. “Makes me wonder if there’s any feeling inside there anywhere. I’m betting no.”
The shaking moving through her turned to fury. Ten more seconds of his garbage and he’d be feeling her hand smack across his face. “You don’t need to worry about my body.”
His eyebrows rose. “If you say so.”
“I need your detective skills.”
The lazy grin vanished as his back snapped straight again. “No way.”
“What kind of response is that for a grown man?”
“The only one you’re going to get.”
“Could you at least try to be civil?”
“You killed that possibility a long time ago, lady.”
Okay, she deserved that. He refused to understand her position, but she couldn’t exactly blame him for the anger. “I’m not asking for me. I’m asking for Ryan.”
“You pay a whole team of professionals to poke around in other people’s private lives for you. Get some of them to do your work. You don’t need me.”
Lot of good all that money did so far. “I actually do.”
“Well, that’s a damn shame since I already have a job.”
Time for a reality check. “Word is that might not be true soon.”
“Visiting my office again, Ms. Armstrong?”
As she watched, he turned into a serious, uncompromising professional. He talked to her with a tone part soothing and part condescending. She sensed he would handle an interrogation the same way.
His disdain lapped against her. He didn’t say the exact words, but he didn’t have to. His actions spoke for him. He hated her.
Gone was the laid-back surfer-dude laziness that hovered around him making the business suit seem all the more out of place. Blond, blue-eyed with a scruff around his mouth and chin, he could play the lead role in any woman’s bad boy fantasies. But behind those rough good looks lurked a man serious and in charge, tense and ready for battle.
Well, he wasn’t the only one in the room fighting off a deep case of dislike. He needed to know she was not one of his frequent empty-headed bedmates. She could match his intellect and anger any time, anywhere.
“Most of the information I need about you and your current predicament is in the newspaper,” she said.
“Most?”
She shrugged, letting him know he wasn’t the only one who could tweak a temper.
“More snooping, Ms. Armstrong?”
“I call it investigating.”
“Well, just so you know.” His back came off the wall, slow and in command. “Sneaking around in my personnel file isn’t the way to make me listen to you.”
“Then let’s try this.” She reached into her purse and grabbed her checkbook. “I want to hire you.”
“Don’t.”
She clicked the end of her pen. “Some money should get us started.”
His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist before she could start writing. “Trying to buy me off isn’t going to get you where you want to be.”
When she dropped her hand, he let go as if touching her one more second repulsed him.
“That’s not what I was doing.” It was, but she figured pointing that out would only make him less receptive to her plan to help Ryan.
“Sure felt like it.”
She skipped the crap and went right to her point. “Ryan didn’t do it.”
“Look, Ms. Armstrong. I get that this is a family issue.”
She refused to blubber or beg. She’d cried enough for ten lifetimes since the whole mess started. “Call me Deana.”
“We’re not friends or colleagues, so Ms. Armstrong is fine.” Josh took his pen out of his pocket and tapped it against his open palm. “And you may as well know I don’t really care what happens to Ryan from here on.”
She refused to believe Josh would be satisfied to let an innocent kid rot in prison. “You can’t really mean that.”
“I do. Trust me on this.”
“You think it’s okay to lock him away?”
“He had a trial.”
“Well, I don’t have the luxury of forgetting Ryan since I’m all he has at the moment.”
“I’m sorry about your brother and his wife.” Josh’s voice softened along with his bright aqua eyes.
She could not let her mind go there. Not now. She had to keep her focus directly on Ryan. It was either that or lose her control, and that was the one thing she could not afford to do in front of Josh. “Then help me.”
“I can’t.”
“You mean won’t.” Despite her attempts to stay calm her voice increased in volume as his decreased.
“We can use whichever word you prefer.”
“Why not?”
“Simple.”
“I have to tell you that I’ve found nothing simple in dealing with you so far.”
“Then try this: I’m out of the rescuing business.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s a fact.”
This was one brick wall she might not be able to work around. “I hardly believe you can turn it on and off like that.”
“I didn’t think so, either.”
“And now?”
“I know I can.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Basically? Find another hero because I’m done playing the role.”
If you liked this book, try Jami Alden’s UNLEASHED,
out this month from Brava…
He did a double, then a triple take.
No fucking way.
His breath caught and his nostrils flared as he took her in. He knew the thick black waves spilling to her waist, the mouthwatering curves elegantly draped in black wool. Her dress went from neck to wrist to knee and should have been modest, but only served to highlight the lush swell of her breasts, the deep curve of her waist, the sexy flare of her hips. The heels of her black pumps tap-tapped their way down the concrete steps and headed in his direction.
He dragged his gaze up to her face. Her luscious mouth was painted red and set in determined lines. Even though the sun was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, like him she wore sunglasses, her oversize frames hiding half her face. As though, like him, she didn’t want to chance anyone getting a peek into her soul.
Caroline fucking Palomares.
No, he reminded himself. Caroline fucking Medford.
Raw emotion spun up inside him, threatening to take him down. Lust. Anger. And a bunch of other crap he wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.
As she strode toward him, shoulders back, hips swinging like she had every right to be walking back into his life, today of all days, he struggled to put the lid back on the swirl of emotion struggling to break free. He reminded himself savagely of who she was. Caroline Medford.
Wife of James Medford, rich attorney twenty years her senior. The same James Medford who could give her the affluent lifestyle he hadn’t realized she coveted until it was too late.
The same James Medford she may very well have killed to keep herself in fast cars and high fashion.
She was not the seventeen year old who’d promised she’d never leave him when she gave him her
virginity. She was not the twenty year old who’d sobbed when he’d announced his plans to join the Special Forces after he graduated from West Point. She wasn’t even the twenty-two-year-old who’d told him to fuck off one final time before walking out on him without another word.
As she drew closer he focused on those differences. She was thinner, for one, he noticed as she got closer. And older, her mouth bracketed by fine lines that came from stress and age. Not to mention the wardrobe. He bet her outfit topped out at over a grand, even more if you counted the purse. A far cry from the wardrobe of a girl from a working class neighborhood who shopped at discount stores and went to private school on scholarship.
She was nothing like the girl he’d known, and he was nothing like the dumb kid who’d entertained romantic illusions like true love and happily ever after.
He took off his glasses, feeling a smile curl his lips for the first time in several days as she stumbled a little.
She was off center. Just the way he liked it. And he was in perfect control. Because Caroline Medford meant nothing to him.
Be on the lookout for
THE MANE SQUEEZE from Shelly Laurenston,
coming next month from Brava…
The salmon were everywhere, leaping from the water and right into the open maws of bears. But he ruled this piece of territory and those salmon were for him and him alone. He opened his mouth and a ten-pound one leaped right into it. Closing his jaws, he sighed in pleasure. Honey-covered. He loved honey-covered salmon!
This was his perfect world. A cold river, happy-to-die-for-his-survival salmon, and honey. Lots and lots of honey…
What could ever be better? What could ever live up to this? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
A salmon swam up to him. He had no interest, he was still working on the honey-covered one. The salmon stared at him intently…almost glaring.
“Hey!” it called out. “Hey! Can you hear me?”
Why was this salmon ruining his meal? He should kill it and save it for later. Or toss it to one of the females with cubs. Anything to get this obviously Philadelphia salmon to shut the hell up!
“Answer me!” the salmon ordered loudly. “Open your eyes and answer me! Now!”
His eyes were open, weren’t they?
Apparently not because someone pried his lids apart and stared into his face. And wow, wasn’t she gorgeous?
“Can you hear me?” He didn’t answer, he was too busy staring at her. So pretty!
“Come on, Paddington. Answer me.”
He instinctively snarled at the nickname and she smiled in relief. “What’s the matter?” she teased. “You don’t like Paddington? Such a cute, cuddily, widdle bear.”
“Nothing’s wrong with cute pet names…Mr. Mittens.”
She straightened, her hands on her hips and those long, expertly manicured nails drumming restlessly against those narrow hips.
“Mister?” she snapped.
“Paddington?” he shot back.
She gave a little snort. “Okay. Fair enough. But call me Gwen. I never did get a chance to tell you my name at the wedding.”
Oh! He remembered her now. The feline he’d found himself day dreaming about on more than one occasion in the two months since Jess’s wedding. And…wow. She was naked. She looked really good naked…
He blinked, knowing that he was staring at that beautiful, strong body. Focus on something else! Anything else! You’re going to creep her out!
“You have tattoos,” he blurted. Bracelet tatts surrounded both her biceps. A combination of black shamrocks and dark-green Chinese symbols he didn’t know the meaning of. And on her right hip she had a black Chinese dragon holding a Celtic cross in its mouth. It was beautiful work. Intricate. “Are they new?”
“Nah. I just covered up the ones on my arms with makeup, for the wedding. With my mother, I’d be noticed enough. Didn’t want to add to that.” She gestured at him with her hand. “Now we know I’m Gwen and I have tattoos…so do you have a name?”
“Yeah, sure. I’m…” He glanced off, racking his brain.
“You don’t remember your name?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“I know it has something to do with security.” He stared at her thoughtfully, then snapped his fingers. “Lock.”
“Lock? Your name is Lock?”
“I think. Lock. Lock…Lachlan! MacRyrie!” He glanced off again. “I think.”
“Christ.”
“No need to get snippy. It’s my name I can’t remember.” He nodded. “I’m pretty positive it’s Lock…something.”
“MacRyrie.”
“Okay.”
She gave a small, frustrated growl and placed the palms of her hands against her eyes. He stared at her painted nails. “Are those the team colors of the Philadelphia Flyers?”
“Don’t start,” she snapped.
“Again with the snippy? I was only asking.”
Lock slowly push himself up a bit, noticing for the first time that they’d traveled to a much more shallow part of the river. The water barely came to his waist. She started to say something, but shook her head and looked away. He didn’t mind. He didn’t need conversation at the moment, he needed to figure out where he was.
A river, that’s where he was. Unfortunately, not his dream river. The one with the honey-covered salmon that willingly leaped into his mouth. A disappointing realization—it always felt so real until he woke up—but he was still happy that he’d survived the fall.
Lock used his arms to push himself up all the way so he could sit.
“Be careful,” she finally said. “We fell from up there.”
He looked at where she pointed, ignoring how much pain the slight move caused, and flinched when he saw how far down they were.
“Although we were farther upriver, I think.”
“Damn,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
“How bad is it?”
“It’ll be fine.” Closing his eyes, Lock bent his head to one side, then the other. The sound of cracking bones echoed and when he opened his eyes, he saw that pretty face cringing.
“See?” he said. “Better already.”
“If you say so.”
She took several awkward steps back so she could sit down on a large boulder.
“You’re hurt,” he informed her.
“Yeah. I am.” She extended her leg, resting it on a small boulder in front of her and let out a breath, her eyes shutting. “I know it’s healing, but, fuck, it hurts.”
“Let me see.” Lock got to his feet, ignoring the aches and pains he felt throughout his body. By the time he made it over to her, she opened her eyes and blinked wide, leaning back.
“Hey, hey! Get that thing out of my face!”
His cock was right there, now wasn’t it? He knelt down on one knee in front of her and said, “This is the best I can manage at the moment. I don’t exactly have the time to run off and kill an animal for its hide.”
“Fine,” she muttered. “Just watch where you’re swinging that thing. You’re liable to break my nose.”
Focusing on her leg to keep from appearing way too proud at that statement, he grasped her foot and lifted, keeping his movements slow and his fingers gentle. He didn’t allow himself to wince when he saw the damage. It was bad, and she was losing blood. Probably more blood than she realized. “I didn’t do this, did I?”
“No. I got this from that She-bitch.” She leaned over, trying to get a better look. “Do I have any calf muscle left?”
He wasn’t going to answer that. At least not honestly. Instead he gave her his best “reassuring” expression and calmly said, “Let’s get you to a hospital.”
Her body jerked straight and those pretty eyes blinked rapidly. “No.”
That wasn’t the response he expected. Panic, perhaps. Or, “My God. Is it that bad?” But instead she said “no.” And she said it with some serious finality. In the same way he’d imagine she would respond to the suggestion of cutting o
ff her leg with a steak knife.
“It’s not a big deal. But you don’t want an infection. I’ll take you up the embankment, get us some clothes—” if she didn’t pass out from blood loss first “—and then get you to the Macon River Health Center. It’s equipped for us.”
“No.”
“I’ve had to go there a couple of times. It’s really clean, the staff is great, and the doctors are always the best.”
“No.”
She wasn’t being difficult to simply be difficult, was she?
Resting his forearm on his knee, Lock stared at her. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
“No.”
“Is there a reason you don’t want to go to the hospital?” And he really hoped it wasn’t something ridiculous like she used to date one of the doctors and didn’t want to see him, or something equally as lame.
“Of course there is. People go there to die.”
Oh, boy. Ridiculous but hardly lame. “Or…people go there to get better.”
“No.”
“Look, Mr. Mittens—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“—I’m trying to help you here. So you can do this the easy way, or you can do this the hard way. Your choice.”
She shrugged and brought her good foot down right on his nuts.
BRAVA BOOKS are published by
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119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2009 Kensington Publishing Corp.
“Lock, Stock, and Jingle Bells” copyright © 2009 Donna Kauffman
“Bah, Handsome!” copyright © 2009 Jill Shalvis
“It’s Hotter at Christmas” copyright © 2009 HelenKay Dimon
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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ISBN: 0-7582-4875-X
Kissing Santa Claus Page 26