Blogger Bundle Volume I: Dear Author Selects Unusual Heroines

by Jo Leigh, Kathleen O'Reilly, Kay David

  “That’s quite a tent you’ve got there, mister.”

  “I’m a big believer in camping. Now, why is it that you still have clothes on?”

  “Ah, so it’s not just any camping. You like nudist camping.”

  “And I’ve got all sorts of activities planned.”

  She glanced at his big bed, which looked terribly inviting with the fluffy green duvet and the overstuffed goose-down pillows. “Basket weaving?”

  He stepped closer to her as she slipped her panties down until they pooled on her bra. “Naw, too corny. I thought we’d learn about tying knots.”

  Her head snapped up. “Oh?”

  With a wicked grin he moved over to his nightstand and opened the drawer. He brought out two lengths of white rope. “Uh-huh.”

  “Wait a minute…”

  “You remember that question I asked you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I was going to do this after dinner, but I’m flexible.”

  Her gaze stayed on the rope. It looked soft, but ropes? Being tied up?

  He’d moved right in front of her, and his arms slipped around her back. “It’s going to be wonderful,” he whispered. “All you have to do is lie back and relax.”

  “I don’t know about this, Camper Bob. I like to use my hands.”

  “Which is a good thing. Just not tonight. Tonight, you’re going to be the pleasuree. Nothing but incredible things are going to happen to you. I promise.”

  She looked up into his eyes, but she already knew that he was telling her the truth. He would never do anything to harm her. On the contrary, he was the most considerate lover she’d ever dreamt of. Which didn’t mean he couldn’t get all caveman on her. She liked that a lot. He was spontaneous and thoughtful, and man, he could go the distance. “All right,” she said, running her fingers down his back. “I’m yours. Do what you will.”

  He tried for an evil laugh, but the effect was ruined when he kissed her. She felt the tent pole against her hip and it occurred to her that they probably should hurry.

  He must have thought the same thing, because he led her over to the bed. She went to sit on the edge, but he stopped her, opting instead to lift her into his arms and place her carefully in the center of the king-size mattress.

  Once she was there, naked, vulnerable, he lifted her arms out to her sides, toward the posts.

  Her heartbeat quickened as he tied her wrist, making sure that the bond wasn’t too tight, but that she couldn’t escape. She tested it a few times, almost told him to forget it, but then she decided she had nothing to lose by experimenting.

  As he tied her other wrist, she realized there had never been anyone in her life she’d trust to do this. And certainly no other man had made her this anxious and wet. She squeezed her legs together, but it didn’t help. Only one thing would.

  She writhed on the comforter as he walked to the end of the bed. Smiling, taking her helpless body in with obvious delight, he shed his boxers. The “tent pole” was as stiff as she’d ever seen it, and she felt sexier than ever that she could have this effect on him.

  Then he climbed onto the bed.

  Her pulse raced, and despite her eagerness to try something new, her hands tugged at her bonds. It was impossible to simply lie still, especially when he lifted her right leg in his two hands, and kissed the top of her foot.

  “Shh,” he said. Then he kissed the top of her ankle, and with infinite patience and great care, he moved slowly up her leg, kissing, nibbling, licking.

  She’d never thought of her leg as an erogenous zone, but clearly she’d been misinformed. Because every touch, every swipe of his tongue, every caress, made her insides go all gooey.

  “Be still,” he said.

  “I can’t.”

  He stopped moving until she met his gaze. “You can.”

  She understood what he was doing, and it excited her. Tonight, it was his ball game, not hers. Of course, she was the sole recipient of his total attention, which wasn’t exactly a hardship, but still, she wasn’t used to relinquishing power. In fact, her days were pretty much designed around the concept of gaining power.

  Okay. She could be still. For now.

  Once she acquiesced, he still didn’t resume his ministrations until she’d lowered her gaze. Interesting. A little odd, but nice.

  Especially nice because he moved more quickly up her thigh, kissing, sucking her flesh. All the wonderful things a mouth and tongue can do.

  But that was only a prelude. The main action came a few moments later. His hands spread her thighs. She felt super-naked, unbelievably open, and a wee bit shy about it until she saw the hunger in his gaze.

  That’s all it took. That and his masterful tongue, of course. He knew exactly what to do, exactly how hard to push, when to slow down. He teased her until she begged, then rewarded her with the focus and attention of a Zen master.

  She didn’t come just once. Oh, no. If she’d had her hands free, she would have shifted, treated him to something devilish. But that wasn’t what he wanted. And, in the end, it wasn’t what she wanted either.

  She came, crying out so loudly they probably heard her in the Bronx, three times. He just didn’t let up. Not until she was so wiped out, her vision faded and her voice cracked.

  Then he sat up. She managed to open her eyes enough to see his satisfied smile. But the biggest surprise was when her gaze moved down past his waist. He wasn’t hard anymore.

  He noticed her confusion. “Uh, the duvet is washable,” he said.

  Then she got it. He’d come without the slightest touch. He’d come because he’d made her crazy. Because he’d made her weep. Because he…

  “Oh, God,” she said, resting her head on the pillow. She still gasped for breath, and her body continued to shiver and quake as residual effects of her workout built and released. She felt sure that whatever pleasure sensors she had in her body were totally used up, completely empty of stores. Which was a good thing, indeed.

  Somewhere out there, she felt him untie her wrists, and then he was next to her in the bed, with his arms and one leg around her. He nuzzled her neck with his soft lips, and she purred her satisfaction.

  “So what did you think?” he asked.

  She laughed. Well, as much as a laugh as she could muster. “Couldn’t you tell?”

  “Yeah, but I want to hear you say it.”

  She turned her head until her eyes met his. “You are an amazing man. I’d sign up for your camp any day.”

  “So the tying-up thing works for you?”

  She nodded. “Maybe not as a steady diet. But the occasional dessert…”

  “Or appetizer.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh, goody.”

  She giggled. “Dan, what am I going to do with you?”

  He lifted his head. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  She thought for a long second, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering just enough to make her quite aware that she knew what he was going to say. But she nodded anyway. “Yes.”

  “You can marry me,” he said. “Jess, I want you. I want to go to bed with you every night. I want to wake up to you every morning. I want to pack your lunch, and pick out china patterns, and I want to hear everything about your day, each day.”

  She studied his handsome face, the earnestness shining in his hazel eyes. He loved her. There was no doubt about it. He’d shown her in every way possible.

  What he didn’t know was that she’d been doing a private research study of her own, which had nothing at all to do with work. She’d been reading about love. About marriage. About what makes it work.

  What she’d discovered was that there is no magic answer. Just as Dan couldn’t hope to find the secret to understanding women, she couldn’t find the slightest hint of a happily-ever-after formula.

  There were no rules to follow, no game plan to stand behind. The only guidelines she had were her own. What did her heart tell her? What were her instincts abou
t this man, this future?

  She shifted a bit, raised up on one elbow. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Here’s what I know. I’ve never loved anyone before, so I have no clue if I’m doing it the right way. I’ve certainly never trusted anyone with my heart. You’ve seen what I do, what I need to do, and all I’ve gotten from you is love, support and confidence.”

  “But…?”

  She smiled as she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. “So what do you say, Dan Crawford, that we go up to Montana on our honeymoon?”

  For a moment, his expression didn’t change. Nothing. Then he smiled. Oh, what a smile.

  “You’re sure?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Are you sure about me?”

  “I told you once that I want to spend the rest of my life discovering the mystery of you. I haven’t changed my mind.”

  She sighed. Turned once more so she was safe in the cocoon of his arms. His breath caressed her cheek. As she closed her eyes, she felt something new, something foreign. A second later it came to her…She was home.

  JUST KISS ME

  Kathleen O’Reilly

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  1

  BACK ME UP ON THIS, PLEASE!

  Joe Barrington refocused on the tiny letters that were precisely inked into the cocktail napkin, working to scramble the letters into a happier meaning.

  Well, she’d actually done it. After twenty-one years of fighting her own battle in futility, she had decided to ask for his help. He should tell her no.

  His mouth even formed the words, but when Joe looked up and stared into the fathomless blue eyes of Amanda Sedgewick, he knew he was as perfectly cooked as the Manhattan restaurant’s world famous pâté de foie gras.

  Damn. Well, he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  “No,” he mouthed the words. He shook his head, just in case she missed what he was saying.

  “Please.” Amanda mouthed back him, shooting one of those helpless female looks that under different circumstances might have worked wonders on him.

  However, he’d never been one of those knights who rode around saving damsels in distress. Nope. Not even close. There were chinks in his armor. Big chinks. Huge chinks.

  With a heavy sigh, he stared across the pristine tablecloth at the proud visage of Dr. Avery Barrington, III, his big brother, who was currently studying the wine list like it was the Wall Street Journal. And there sat Joe’s biggest chink.

  Avery. The whole world revolved around Avery.

  Before Avery had reached the advanced age of eight, he had mapped out his entire future. Mainly because in elementary school, life really sucked for guys named Avery. First, he was going to become a doctor in order to get rich just to spite those bullies who picked on the Averys of the world. And second, to further their torment, he was equally determined to marry the most beautiful girl at Neil Armstrong Elementary, who just happened to be—Amanda.

  It was a simple plan, and Joe applauded his brother’s single-minded pursuit of his goals. He’d achieved them all. Avery was a wealthy plastic surgeon, the bullies from grade school were gas attendants with beer bellies, he graduated at the top of his class from Columbia, he drove a German car, but for Avery there was still one big fly stuck in the soup.

  Amanda.

  The last time Joe had seen her was Avery’s high school graduation. Tonight he had been surprised to see she had developed a maturity that had been missing before. She was still gorgeous, but now there was a confidence in the way she held herself and the way she talked. Just like Avery.

  Which brought Joe right back to the plea for help on the cocktail napkin. Well, whatever she wanted him to back her up on, it wasn’t going to happen. Joe firmly believed that Avery’s love life, sterile and lifeless as it was, was none of his business.

  “Not my problem.” Joe stated his case categorically, meeting her eyes so there was no misunderstanding. For twenty-one years he had stayed out of the whole thing, listening to Avery rhapsodize about Amanda’s porcelainlike features, and thinking yeah, she was okay if you liked cool blondes with impeccable fashion sense.

  But Joe liked his women with fire in their blood and sin in their eyes. He smiled, fondly reminiscing about his last date. Sometimes it was hard to believe he and Avery shared the same genes. Maybe they didn’t. It would explain a lot. Why Joe hadn’t got into St. Alban’s preparatory school, when Avery had. Why Avery wanted to make people well, and Joe just wanted to be around planes.

  The wine steward came to the table and wisely, Joe and Amanda let Avery make the selection. Amanda shot Joe another meaningful look. “Please,” she mouthed again. Then she lifted her palms, a suffering angel. Right.

  Avery placed the order, and then turned back to Joe. “What were you saying?”

  “I was telling Amanda that, no, I’m not going to do anything with her cocktail napkin. Thanks very much for offering.” He passed the white paper back to her, wondering why she had even agreed to go out to dinner with Avery in the first place and even more mysteriously, why she had wanted Joe to come along.

  Amanda smiled politely, took the napkin in her perfectly manicured hands and sat her water glass down top of it. Amanda never gave anything away. She was the perfect complement for his brother, the liberal sophisticate.

  Everything except that mouth.

  In a face composed of high cheekbones and un-blinking eyes, her mouth was wild and wicked. Full, red lips that curled up slightly at the corners, as if she had a secret and you knew that no matter how you tried, you’d never discover it.

  Joe knew Amanda had secrets, that there was a hidden piece of her that she never showed, and he didn’t know whether it was the poised exterior or the promise of that mouth that inspired his brother.

  But that was none of his business.

  Finally, she raised one eyebrow, a challenge. Then she turned to Avery, and brushed her hair back on her shoulders. Very smooth. Of course, Amanda was a lawyer, and she knew all the moves. “It’s not going to work,” she said.

  Huh?

  Amanda picked up her glass of wine and watched Joe, her mouth curving ever so slightly. He shifted, not liking that provocative smile blasting in his direction. She turned to Avery. “It’s time I was honest with you.”

  About time. And that sounded like his cue to leave. Joe stood. “Excuse me. I’m sure you two need a little privacy. I’ll just take a train home.”

  “No!” All traces of steel vanished from her voice, her blue eyes soft and pleading. Avery heaved a theatrical sigh.

  Surely she didn’t expect Joe to stick around while she had The Talk with his brother? Not that Joe thought it would do a bit of good. Avery would never give up. He could bulldoze the entire third world if he put his mind to it, and Joe gave Amanda high marks for managing to escape un-dozed. So far.

  “I think we need to tell your brother this together.”

  We? There it was again. The whispered tone, that intimate look. Like lovers. A guy could get really used to that look.

  And then it all clicked. Joe. Amanda. Lovers.

  Holy Cow.

  “Uh, no, I don’t think so,” he answered, every cell in his body flashing red-alert. There were some cells that were flashing more enthusiastically than others, and Joe shifted uncomfortably. He tried for a paternally disapproving voice. “You should have talked to me before you decided to bring this up.”

  And still she stared at him, and he almost forgot his good intentions. He almost forgot Avery. Which was a hard thing to do.

  Thankfully, the wine steward came, and placed the bottle
of wine on the table, waiting for Avery’s approval. Then the ritual began. Avery sniffed, whirled, sipped and finally nodded. The steward poured everyone a glass and then departed in silence.

  “What did you want to tell me, Amanda?” Avery asked.

  Amanda shot Joe one last pleading look. He almost caved. He’d pretty well figured it out. Joe and Amanda, pretend lovers. Absolutely without question, the most harebrained scheme she’d ever had to get rid of Avery. Of course, Amanda didn’t do harebrained well, and Avery wasn’t very cooperative as a dumpee.

  “Avery, I’m in love with Joe.”

  Her harebrained skills were improving by the minute.

  It was a valiant struggle not to spew cabernet all over the pristine, white tablecloth, but he managed. He’d thought she was proposing an affair, but no, this was Amanda. Of course the lawyer would want it all. She’d say she was in love. With Joe.

  Was she nuts?

  He took another hasty swallow of wine. He had really underestimated her this time. Who knew that beneath that cool exterior lurked Lucille Ball? No foul though, because, of course, Avery would never believe it.

  Feeling rather confident of his prediction, Joe turned to Avery. Three. Two. One.

  “Joe?” Avery spluttered, predictable as always. “You can’t be serious! He’s an airline mechanic.”

  And so it goes. Joe sighed and began to butter his bread. “Thanks, Ave. Love you too, bro.”

  But Amanda wasn’t done yet and if Avery wasn’t blood-kin, Joe would have felt sorry for her. “I am serious, Avery. It’s something I’ve been fighting for a long time.” She turned to Joe, her wicked mouth trembling. “Something we’ve been fighting for a long time. I can’t let you ruin this for me, Avery. I won’t let you ruin my one chance at happiness.”

  Avery’s face was all screwed up and confused, not a pretty sight. “But why Joe?”