Heart's Desire (11 page)

“Going somewhere, Sophia?” Ian’s husky voice, rich with the flavor of Scotland, filled the darkness between them.

And with a sinking heart Sophia knew, that with those three simple words, everything she’d tried to escape had found her.

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At Last
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At Last
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MINE AT MIDNIGHT
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Contemporary Romantic Comedy

For Cinderella, the fun ended at midnight. But for Merrie Langston, that’s just when things start heating up…

Merrie is a free-spirited, caterer looking for a bank loan to expand her business. Tom Farrell is her buttoned-down accountant who’s trying to get her finances in order-- no easy task as she keeps her receipts in Baggies. Sparks fly when these opposites realize they do indeed attract.

Tom wasn't sure how a caterer dressed in an elf's costume could look so sexy. His gaze dropped to her mouth and he barely refrained from groaning.

One taste. One kiss. Just to satisfy this inexplicable, insatiable curiosity. He lowered his head, slowly, giving Merrie the opportunity stop him, but instead she lifted her face and rose up on her toes.

He brushed his lips over hers, once, twice, experimental touches that enflamed rather than satisfied. He lightly ran the tip of his tongue over her bottom lip, a favor she instantly returned. And in a heartbeat he was lost.

She tasted exactly the way she smelled-- sweet, seductive, and delicious. He heard a low groan. Him? Her? He didn’t know. Didn’t know anything beyond the satiny, luscious warmth of her mouth, the erotic friction of her tongue rubbing against his. The bewitching feel of her pressed against him as he drew her closer and she wrapped her arms more tightly around him.

Heat, want, desire, pumped through him, rapidly depleting his control. His hands glided slowly up her back, and he plucked off her elf hat to sift his hands through her silky soft curls. Everything about her was curvy, feminine, and soft and fit so well against every part of him that was so… not soft. She strained closer, shifting against him, and his erection jerked in response.

Some small, barely audible kernel of common sense worked its way through the fog of lust clouding his judgment and reminded him that they stood in the Baxter’s kitchen and that this had gone far enough.

He lifted his head and fought to control his ragged breathing. Merrie clung to him, short puffs of breath emanating from between her moist, parted lips. A hint of crimson stained her cheeks, and she slowly opened her eyes. A growl of want rose in his throat. She looked glazed, dazed, and thoroughly aroused. Much the way he assumed he must look.

“Holy cow,” she said in a breathless whisper.

Personally, he didn’t think ‘holy cow’ did that kiss justice, but damn, he was impressed she was capable of speech. He sure as hell wasn’t there yet.

She blinked several times, her stunned gaze searching his face as if she’d never seen him before. “I, um, didn’t know accountants could kiss like that.”

He had to swallow twice to finally locate his voice. “I didn’t know elves could kiss like that.”

“I’m not sure they normally do. Seems like it would melt the north polar cap.”

She could say that again. He felt as if he were roasting from the inside out. And if he didn’t step away from her, he was going to kiss her again. Which would definitely be unwise-- for some reason he couldn’t think of right now, but he was pretty sure there was one.

After slowly releasing her, he took a step back. Her arms slipped from around him, then settled at her sides. He immediately missed the feel of her against him, which was bad. Really bad. But now that she wasn’t touching him, his brain was kicking back into action, shouting recriminations at him. Since he felt responsible for starting this… whatever it was, it was up to him to cut it off at the pass.

He raked his hands, which weren’t completely steady, through his hair. “Look, Merrie, as pleasant as that kiss was, I think we can agree that it wouldn’t be a good idea to repeat it.” He forced himself not to wince at using a tepid word like “pleasant” to describe a passionate exchange that had steam all but exuding from his pores. “You’re my client, and I wouldn’t want to start anything that could be construed as a conflict of interest, especially where your loan might be concerned.”

As soon as the words passed his lips his inner voice scoffed and shoved the reasoning aside. Hey, he was her accountant, he prepared her financial statements, but it’s not like he was the loan officer. Now that would be a conflict of interest. He could imagine that Merrie’s kiss would induce the loan officer to not only give her the money she requested, but also the keys to the freakin’ vault.

She nodded, slowly at first, then more vigorously. “You’re right, of course. Besides, it’s not as if that kiss could go anywhere. Let’s face it, personality-wise, we’re like oil and water.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, wondering why he didn’t feel quite as relieved as he should. “Like night and day.”

“Like wet and dry. So we’ll just forget it. Go on, business as usual. Blame the last few minutes of insanity on that common holiday malady, Mistletoe Madness.”

It took him several seconds to answer because he was still trying to figure out which one of them was ‘wet’ and which one was ‘dry’-- a difficult task because nothing about their kiss could be labeled ‘dry’, and when he thought about wet… hell, his train of thought completely jumped the track.

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Mine at Midnight
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Mine at Midnight
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KISS THE COOK
excerpt

Contemporary Romantic Comedy

Melanie Gibson has her hands full. Not only is she caring for her beloved grandmother, she's also working desperately to secure a bank loan for her fledging gourmet catering service. The last thing she has time for is romance-- not even with Christopher Bishop, the sexy financial whiz who's been evaluating her business.

After eight years of toiling to put his younger siblings through school, Chris is ready to lead the life of a carefree bachelor. Then he meets Melanie, and finds himself thinking about forever. Melanie insists she's too smart to fall for a man with the devilish good looks of a practiced playboy, but Chris is determined to show her that their passion is too powerful to deny-- and that love is the sweetest thing of all

Melanie stepped outside into the oppressive heat carrying a frosted mug of lemonade. Laughter bubbled up in her throat at the sight that greeted her eyes. The only part of Chris that was visible were his legs. The rest of him was under her car. As much as she didn't want to, Melanie couldn't help but admire those muscular, tanned male legs.

Walking up to him, she tapped his Reebok with her flip flop. "I brought you something to drink."

He scooted from beneath the car, moving sideways like a sand crab. When his head was clear, he stood up and wiped his dirty hands with an equally dirty rag. In spite of being sweaty, rumpled, and sporting a smudge of something black on his jaw he looked good enough lick. The fact that his not-so-white-anymore T-shirt was molded to his broad chest and impressive abs definitely upped the sexy quotient. Uh huh, like he needed to look more sexy.

He took the proffered lemonade and drained it in a series of nonstop gulps that drew Melanie's attention to his strong, tanned throat. When he finished, he touched the cold mug to his forehead. "Thanks. I needed that."

"Want some more?"

He shook his head. "Not now, thanks."

His proximity was having a strange effect on her stomach. Stepping away from him, she asked, "How's it going?"

"Good. I just finished changing the oil. I gave you a complete tune-up and your battery is hooked up to my recharger. All that's left is changing the spark plugs." He indicated the opened hood with a jerk of his head. "Wanna watch?"

"Sure, but I have to warn you: I know diddly squat about cars."

"That's okay. I know diddly squat about cooking."

Melanie followed him to the front of the car then watched him open a package of what she assumed were spark plugs. She wasn't sure what fascinated her more-- the ease with which he selected foreign-looking items from his toolbox, or the way his muscles bunched and flexed while he worked. Whatever it was, she was soon thoroughly engrossed, and surprisingly curious.

She leaned over the engine with him. “How do you know so much about cars?”

“My dad and grandfather taught me. Grandpa was a mechanic.”

She pointed. “What's that little do-flickit?"

"The air filter," he said, screwing a spark plug into place.

"How about that thingamabob there?"

"The carburetor."

"I've heard of that. What's it do?"

"It vaporizes liquid fuel and controls its mixing with air for combustion in the engine."

"Uh-huh. And the English translation of that is… ?"

"It makes the car go vroooomm."

"Ah."

She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "Whew. It sure is hot out here."

Chris snuck a glance at her and nodded in mental agreement. Hot as hell. And every time he looked at her, in those cutoffs that showcased her longs, slim legs and curvy butt-- which was currently hoisted in the air as she leaned over-- it got a little hotter.

Her skin was the color of warm honey, and his fingers itched to touch its soft smoothness. Her reddish-brown hair was a riotous cap of untamed curls that begged to be messed with. Her eyes reminded him of sweet, gooey, yummy chocolate, and her mouth… whoa! Those plump pink lips had carnal thoughts racing through his mind, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on what he was doing.

Her finger bounced back and forth, pointing at this and that, asking what everything was. He answered all her questions, falling more and more in lust with each passing minute. His mind tried to convince his hormones that this was not the woman they were looking for-- this woman was more than a one-nighter and represented a serious threat to his bachelor freedom-- but his hormones were having none of it.

This is the one we want, his hormones informed him. This one right here, who doesn't know an oilfiller from a brake pad. The one who smells like fresh-baked brownies and stares at you with those big chocolatey-brown eyes. Now do something about it before we get nasty.

She pointed to something else, asking what it was. When he turned his head to explain the intricacies of the wiper-fluid dispenser, they bumped noses. Chris froze and stared into her startled eyes.

She was so close. And she smelled so good. And looked so good. God, so good.

Before she could back away, and before he could change his mind, he did what he'd wanted to do since almost the first moment he saw her. He angled his head and brushed his mouth over hers.

He’d expected to feel a tingle, but he wasn’t prepared for the electric sizzle that crackled through him. All thoughts of spark plugs, do-flickits, and thingamabobs drained from his head. He reached for her, pulling them both upright. Their heads smacked into the raised hood at the same time.