by Susan Arden
Susan Arden
Bad Boys Series (Book #4)
SILVER SPROCKET PUBLISHING – Sweet & Spicy Tales
Nashville
Bad Boys Series
Tempted by Trouble (Book 1 e-book & Print)
Tempted Twice (Book 2)
The Cowboy Rode a Harley (Book 3)
LOOK FOR THESE TITLES BY SUSAN ARDEN
Rocky Mountain Series
Collared for a Night (Book 1)
Blood Brothers (Book 2)
Her Lycan Lover (Book 3)
Alpha Speed Dating (Book 4)
Ruler Breaker Series
Rock into Me (Book 1)
Crash & Burn (Book 2)
Releasing in 2014
Bad Boys Series
Double Trouble (Book 5)
Breaking Bad (Book 6)
Ruler Breaker Series
It’s a BITCH (Book 3)
Writing as Susan D. Taylor
Miami Mermaids Series
Sweetest Curse (Book 2) ~ Undine’s Curse
GIRLS’ NIGHT OUT
Copyright © Susan Arden
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Published: January 2014
SWEET-N-SPICY TALES
A Division of SILVER SPROCKET PUBLISHING
WARNING: The right of Susan Arden to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s right is appreciated. If you would like to share this e-book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.
The published and author acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.
Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at
Twitter: @romancebysusan
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SusanTaylorAuthor
Blog: http://susanardenbooks.blogspot.com
DEDICATION
To my husband. You are my hero, friend, and inspiration.
To the many people who find they learn a little differently,
and are by no means the typical student.
Here’s a wish for you to find the strength to prevail and the resources to keep a light
in your heart as I have been so fortunate.
When the road is bumpy and the going gets tough,
listen to the voice that spurs you to go after your goals with all you’ve got.
Dreams do come true!
“The secret to education lies in respecting the student.”
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
PROLOGUE
Cory McLemore finished typing the color-coded legend for the new filing system. So simple a child could follow. The computer monitor chimed, alerting her of an incoming email. Finally. She read the message and promptly did a chair dance, snapping her fingers and stomping her feet. Dr. Helen Peterson’s grant proposal packet was complete. Last item on her to-do list…done!
Exiting from her UCLA student account, she glanced at the clock. “Perfect.”
Dr. Peterson stopped at the doorway. “Cory, what are you still doing here?”
Cory pushed back from the desk, sliding over the floor in a swivel chair. “We received word. Your grant packet was accepted two seconds ago.”
Her assigned advisor hustled into the cramped university office, glasses askew, and arms overflowing. “We need more room.” Dr. P. wheeled around from her overcrowded desk.
Cory scoffed, “We need to get organized. Item number one on my to-do list after fall break.”
Dr. Peterson heaved a stack of binders onto an already overcrowded credenza. “If you hang around here any longer, you might as well stay. This isn’t Texas where you can stretch the rules and arrive a few minutes before your flight. No joke, you’ll be stuck at LAX until Thanksgiving break is over if you don’t get a move on.”
“Just wanted to make certain the review board had your proposal without a hitch. Dr. Carathers sent an email with the tracking number. Officially, I’m on break.” Cory straightened the area at the desk she’d borrowed from Dr. Peterson’s TA and stowed her digital planner inside her bag. She removed her keys and glanced across the office. “I thought you’d be on the road to San Francisco by now, the pot said to the kettle.”
“Doesn’t look like I’m going after all.” Dr. Peterson smiled, then opened her desk drawer and removed a packet of hot chocolate mix.
Cory didn’t want to pry, but couldn’t leave Dr. Peterson here. Alone. “Why don’t you come home with me?”
Her professor’s smile widened and she shook her silver-haired head. “Don’t worry about me. There’s a group of us from the department and we’re doing the football telethon and eating. You, on the other hand, need to scram.”
“Fine,” Cory huffed. “I’m going. But mark my words, when I return we’re going to get this office cleaned and organized.”
After hugging Dr. Peterson, Cory walked through the dimly lit hall of the Graham Building, down a cold cement stairwell, and then out into the crisp autumn air. Not a cloud in the sky. A little past nine in the morning and she’d be at the airport in less than thirty minutes. She exchanged a greeting with a girl from class, then made a beeline to her car and was en route, singing to the country music on the radio. Her cellphone buzzed. And buzzed.
Parking in the airport garage, she hightailed it to the departure entrance, and laughed at the text from Gillian, her almost sister-in-law taken of her brothers roping a calf and covered in mud. COULD USE SOME HELP! Just saying.
She shot a text back. ON MY WAY! A few hours and she’d be home, back to Evermore, and her loud, large family.
CHAPTER 1
Cory stared at the plane taking off in the distance, her leg jiggling a mile a minute. That made fifty…or fifty-one. Along with the airborne jet, there went her holiday cheer—up, up, and away. Folding her arms over her chest, she silently vowed from now on, the only cleared for takeoff that interested her would be her own darn one. Jeez, if someone could get her flight onto the runway, she might have a chance to do more than huff and puff. She wasn’t grumpy by nature, but doggone it, a few too many hours of waiting had her ready to have at it.
“Hello?” An airline employee at the desk tapped on the microphone and Cory jerked upright.
Please. Just say the words. Cory prayed for pre-boarding instructions, crossing all available body parts.
“Excuse me, passengers of US Trans Flight 117 to Dallas.” The employee’s voice interrupted the holiday music playing overhead. The woman frowned and gripped the microphone. Not good. “The flight is delayed for thirty more minutes. Thank you for your patience.”
Her shoulders drew up as though someone had tied a square knot in her muscles. Her flight was past running late—it was AWOL—but hot damn, the other plane scheduled to board from this gate was running right on time. There it came
too—a shiny, white plane rolling up on the tarmac. Just frigging great. She exhaled then reached for cell to alert her family to yet another delay. No need to have her parents, brothers and only God knows whom else waiting at the Clarkesville airport.
After hanging up with her father, she pushed to the edge of her seat, and people watched. Darn, but this was consternating as all get out, trying to fly home, and having to deal with delay after freaking delay. Cory tapped her fingernails done in a French manicure along the zipper of her bag. It had been weeks since she’d had time to do her nails or hair. Yesterday, she’d driven all over L.A. like a crazy person looking for a salon. More than one snooty receptionist had informed her that this close to the holiday and they’d been booked for weeks. At the end of her rope, she’d bitten the bullet, and poured on the charm, enough to snag an appointment. But at this rate, she’d be biting her nails down to nubs if someone didn’t do something to get her on a flight home, and pronto!
She picked up her carry-on, thinking how different her life had become as a freshman at UCLA. Studying, a full load of classes, a marketing project near completion, her part-time job within the business school…oh yeah, and no sleep. She was so ready for a break and some pampering. The last plane delay had Cory’s teeth worrying her bottom lip. Outside the sun was shining, but apparently somewhere east of L.A. the skies were not so blue. Boxed in to the right and left, her jittery nerves had her jumpier than a barnyard cat thanks to two cups of coffee and hours of sitting and stewing. A coil tightened in her belly, ready to snap.
Cory bounded to her feet and exited the departure lounge. All her pent-up frustration at being caged within LAX was about to come to a head. She walked a couple of steps and dodged a flight attendant with a fast-moving luggage cart. Then a group of men and women in uniform were hotfooting toward her and she ended up hugging a post as their duffle bags knocked into her. She switched sides of the corridor. Another few steps and she walked into a cloud of window cleaner being sprayed by an airport worker. Choking, she coughed as her eyes stung and she headed for an open spot along the wall. Blindly, she groped for her tissue.
A short stroll was turning into a fight to traipse down the corridor. In Terminal Three, amidst the crowds of passengers and airport employees, Cory elbowed her way to keep her place next to the wall, and dabbed at her eyes.
A power walking man—more like Goliath—leaned in too close and she had no escape. Nowhere to go as he came barreling up to her, so near that the whiff of his clean scent filled her senses. He talked low, but she could hear the rich twang of his voice, speaking about a contract problem. His tone was pure displeasure but his drawl was achingly Texas familiar. Brows drawn up tight, his expression was fierce, commanding and didn’t intimidate her a bit. Not with five raucous brothers, a strict father, and a gaggle of uncles and cousins; this lone wolf didn’t derail her in the least.
“Watch it,” she called out, but her voice faded into the buzz of white noise from travelers and another announcement overhead. The man seemed to be reading a sign on the ceiling. Definitely, he wasn’t paying attention to her.
Crap! Cory sucked in her breath, preparing to be pulverized. She couldn’t watch and shut her eyes. When his muscular bicep connected with her shoulder, she felt a powerful smack, and reeled backward, heading for a sharp trip into the wall. Her eyes flashed open, locking with his. The connection was like a cracking whip with a biting snap to her brain.
His green eyes widened for a millisecond, then his steely expression changed. Liquefied her. “Got to go,” Goliath snarled into his cell.
He shot his arm out in her direction. Strong fingers curled around her arm, discharging a juggernaut of racing awareness into her body. She squeaked and tried to fight, but he tugged her toward him.
Goliath smirked down at her. “I don’t think so.”
In an instant, she faced his arresting features up close. It didn’t help that his square jaw had just the right amount of stubble or his dark hair had that sinful quality—as in sex yanking thick. Over six feet of undeniable masculinity made her skin tighten.
Her Let me go! dissolved like sugar crystals on the tip of her tongue as she stared into the intense emerald color of his eyes. He had her attention all right, so much that she stumbled, tripping over her own feet. She lowered her gaze only to find herself staring at his expansive shoulders.
Oh Jesus. It didn’t get any easier being inches away from his T-shirt, stretched perilously thin over a set of hard to miss pectoral muscles. The space between her and the Titan evaporated with the pressure of his arm crowded against her ribcage, pushing at the under swell of her boobs. A force infusing her from head to toe, daring her to draw a breath.
“You can let go now,” she finally whispered in a hoarse voice. Her focus snapped to his rugged face and his quirked full lips and the impact acted like an eraser, dissolving all thoughts from Cory’s whiteboard of a mind.
His eyes lowered to her chest, scoring a close-up view down the neckline of her blouse. His heated gaze branded her body for the year it took for his attention to rebound to her face.
Goliath relaxed his death grip somewhat. “You need to watch where you’re headed in this jungle. This is no place to daydream, darling. “His eyes darkened and jetted a shard of arousal through her.
“Excuse me,” she hissed. Why did his words feel like a gallon of diesel fuel thrown onto a burn pile ready to incinerate?
“This isn’t Candy Land where you can stand in the walkway with your eyes closed.” His brow arched. “And those stilts you’re waltzing around on could get you into trouble.”
“That’s none of your concern.” She tugged her arm to release his grip.
“Oh no? Seems like it just was.” He still had not let go completely, but stared down at her, searching her face. “Be careful. Okay?”
Slowly, his fingers grazed along her arm, stopping at her elbow as if to steady her. She nodded mutely, hyperaware that his warm hand brushing over her skin had the power of a shockwave over her body. And just as mind-blowing, she realized she liked it. A lot.
He shot her a puzzled look, as though he felt the jolt as well. “I’m running late. Do you know where you’re going?”
“Of course,” she replied, taking a deep breath to clear the fog from her dazed mind.
“Then take it easy.” His gaze lingered, then he shook his head, and let go of her. Goliath sauntered away. As rapidly as he’d come, he was gone.
“Well, I friggin’ declare.” Cory glared in his direction, but given the back of his head had no eyes, it was a futile act.
Goliath marshaled onward, cellphone reattached to his head, and a carry-on slung over his wide shoulder. She didn’t even have the chance to chastise or thank him properly. A spurt of heat shot up her spine and she exhaled a flustered breath, staring after the stranger with thick dark hair and a lickable body. Oh, Stop that!
Cory swung her attention in the other direction down the corridor and ran her fingertips over the surface of painted flower petals as she leaned against the wall, taking in the cresting sea of airport inhabitants. Inexplicably, she turned her attention back to the direction where the stranger headed and her chest tightened. Her arm still tingled. She glanced down to where he’d touched her; there were no marks, of course. But on closer inspection, she could still smell the fresh outdoors scent of him wafting on her skin. She inhaled as if to draw him back to her.
It had been darn near forever since she’d gotten this close to a man and the scorching heat that had radiated off Goliath made her bite her lip. Rolling her eyes, she scanned the ceiling, refusing to watch the hunk disappear from view.
Down the walkway, she traced her palm over the vibrant collage flowing across the wall. More thuds and bumps came from other bodies, but after a while, she ignored the passersby, preferring to contemplate the artwork along the wall. LAX had shops, cafes, kiosks, and yards of a holiday artwork installation. Holiday for California equated to bright
hues of fuchsia, orange, sunflower yellow, and Kelly green with a backdrop of palm trees and convertibles. So very different from her hometown.
Twenty minutes later, she crossed and reentered the departure lounge that resembled an overstuffed beehive. It was twice as crowded with two planes now gearing up for takeoff. Passengers had taken to spreading out and there were bags, parcels, pillows and all sorts of things clogging the aisle. She bobbed between two children, then wove and stepped high over a carry-on, taking refuge in one of the few empty seats.
Plunking down on the hard plastic chair, she eyed the runway, then noticed her reflection in the polished glass. A spark of excitement crackled over her skin. It wasn’t her reflection that riveted her attention, but that of the man seated in back of her. His familiar profile and shoulders rose a good six inches above hers. Dammit, but Goliath was seated right behind her. She inhaled to steady herself and picked up a trace of his mind-bending cologne. Her hearing zoned in on his voice just as a shiver unleashed in her body.
Stop acting ridiculous. Rolling her eyes, she crossed her legs and reached for a magazine from her bag, then flipped through twenty pages without recalling what she’d read. Cory stopped fighting the desire to spy on Goliath and glanced back to his reflection. A jolt ran through her just from looking at him.
The man had to be an athlete from what she could tell of his powerful build. Difficult to see much through the glaring sunlight streaming through the plate glass viewing wall, but what she’d gathered made her swallow. Hard. He laughed suddenly, and the sound sent a swarm of chill bumps racing over her skin. He looked to be doing something on an iPad.
Darn, he was built, and that was saying something, considering her father, uncles, and brothers were tall in that overbearing, Texas kind of way.
Biting her bottom lip, she wobbled on the corner of her seat as she studied his chiseled features, wondering if he was on her flight or the other one. Both were headed to Dallas. Without warning, Cory lost her balance and rapidly grabbed at the seat. The only thing she managed to do was knock over her bag on her way to a kerplunk landing on the floor. Everything from her purse lay helter-skelter over the carpet.