Just My Type (38 page)

He held onto her as she lowered herself carefully to the bottom of the tub. Then he knelt beside the tub on the fluffy lavender mat. He pulled up on the lever on the faucet that turned the shower on and she held her right hand up in the air.

“Here, rest your hand on my shoulder.” He moved so that she could rest her cast on his left shoulder, somehow leaning around to use his right hand to maneuver the sprayer head.

Warm water hit her scalp and coursed over her shoulders and she closed her eyes and tipped her head back at the feel of it, resisting the urge to sigh.

She felt Sam shift the sprayer to his left hand as his elbow rested on the edge of the tub, the spray angled at her feet for the moment. The gentle pressure of his right hand settled on her head, smoothing her hair back, his fingers curling gently into her scalp, massaging and wetting all the strands.

She did sigh then.

He was leaning in so close that she could smell that wonderful smell from him, and she kept her eyes closed, just absorbing the feel of him touching her, his scent and body heat around her.

“You’d better hold this.” He moved the handle of the sprayer to her left hand and shifted away.

She opened her eyes and saw him reaching for the shampoo bottle on the ledge. His eyes met hers as he poured some of the shampoo into his hand, then rubbed his hands together in small circles.

“Step two,” he said with a smile.

“So far, so good.”

He lifted his hands to her head and started a slow massage again, working the soap through her hair.

She closed her eyes again. She didn’t know if he meant for the shampooing to be sensual, but it certainly was. Of course, this was Sam and it seemed that even the most innocent touch made her want him.

Her long hair was piled on top of her head and his fingers kneaded from her temples to the crown of her head, then down the back, to the base of her skull.

After a few delicious minutes, he reclaimed the sprayer and aimed it at her head, rinsing the bubbles off.

“Now?” he asked.

She thought his voice sounded hoarse, but when she looked at him he was simply watching her.

“Conditioner.” She pointed to the other bottle on the same shelf where he’d found the shampoo.

He repeated the pattern without another word, including the rinsing.

She opened her eyes again as she realized the rinsing was more than complete. “Could you…” she started, then stopped, hoping he’d let it go and knowing he wouldn’t at the same time.

“Yes, I could.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“Doesn’t matter. Whatever you need.” He was suddenly so sincere.

Which made her ask hesitantly, “Could you help me wash my face too? While I’m already here and wet.”

At that Sam pulled in a quick, sharp breath, but he nodded. “Sure.” She pointed to the bottle of foaming facial cleanser and he pumped a small amount into his palm and then spread it out with the pads of the fingers on the other hand. He lifted his hands to her face and gently began making circles on her cheeks.

“Here, I can…” she started.

He bumped her un-casted hand out of the way. “I’ve got it.” It was strange being bathed for the first time in twenty years. Not terrible, but strange.

Sam’s fingers circled over her face, spreading cleanser over her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, over her cheeks and along her jaw and chin. He washed her face nearly two minutes longer than she ever had and Danika found it stupidly erotic. She figured Sam was just thinking what a pain in the ass this was all going to be after a few days.

Once the cleanser had been washed off, Danika realized she didn’t have any reason to linger in the tub. Other than that she just wanted to, at least.

“What about the rest?” Sam asked.

“The rest of what?”

“Your body. You have to bathe everything at some point.” Of course she would. But…

“Are you offering to help?”

“Absolutely.” He grinned.

“If we do that,” she said directly, and out loud, “it will lead to much more than simple washing.”

“You seem pretty sure of that.”

“Completely.”

Loving him could be an adventure that gets her killed.

Defy the World Tomatoes

© 2010 Phoebe Conn

Darcy MacLeod’s Army brat childhood drives her to sink roots as deep as the plants with which she works. As part owner of a nursery/gift shop in Monarch Bay, she’s well on her way to her dream. Though she’s haunted by the lingering fear that her one chance for true love has come and gone.

When Griffin Moore asks her to landscape his sumptuous new estate, she’s entranced by the internationally renowned pianist’s air of mystery. Yet as she is inexorably drawn into his bed, her instincts tell her that secrets lurk behind his sophisticated mask.

With her carelessly styled hair, grubby overalls, and hands that see more dirt than an earthworm, Griffin finds Darcy a refreshing ray of light in his shadowy world. His globe-trotting concert schedule makes him the perfect Interpol informant—and makes a permanent relationship too dangerous to risk.

Their passion rivals the music of the great classical masters, but even as Darcy dips a toe into Griffin’s extravagant world, darkness reaches out to strike a dangerous chord. And Darcy must fight to keep her second chance at love—and her lover—alive.

Warning: Contains meddling friends, high adventure, down and dirty sex, and a couple who make
beautiful music together—in bed and out.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Defy the World Tomatoes: Griffin waited for Darcy in his driveway. “I don’t mean to shock you, but unlike most men, I actually enjoy reading directions. Let’s go on out to the terrace. I’ll read the notes with the diagrams, and you can assemble the kite. It’s shaped like a dragon with a long, notched tail. It’s very colorful. I hope you like it.”

“It’s your kite,” Darcy reminded him, but when he pulled it out of the package, she couldn’t help but be impressed. “Start reading, I want to see this thing in the air.”

“First we have to unroll it.”

“All right, I’ll hold the tip of the tail while you walk backwards, and that ought to do it.”

“Hey, I thought I was giving the directions here.”

“Sorry. I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Darcy promised.

“Well, not all the time, I hope.” Griffin soon had the dragon stretched out across the terrace. He checked the directions again and sorted through the accompanying dowels. “These go in the head and wings. Do you see the slots that hold them?”

“Slots?” The dragon was red and breathing orange flames. Darcy felt along the sides. “They’ve got to be here somewhere. This is your kite, after all. Why don’t I read the directions while you attach the dowels?”

“Don’t complicate things. Just get busy.”

Darcy raised a hand. “Let me see that diagram.”

Griffin stepped beyond her reach and hid it behind his back. “Come and get it.”

“No way. You’re the one who wants to build the kite, remember?”

“An excellent point.” Giving in, Griffin knelt beside her. “Maybe they didn’t sew this one together correctly at the factory.”

He was mere inches away and studying the kite’s construction rather than tormenting her. His lashes made shadows on his cheeks, and he was quite appealing when he was in a playful mood, but none of it seemed real to her. It was all just a trick, and he probably wouldn’t stop until he’d convinced her that she actually wanted to move Defy the World clear out of town.

Then she grew curious. “Why do you need a recording studio if you’ve stopped rehearsing?”

“Later. Here we are, the slots open on the other side. Hand me the first dowel.” Darcy slapped it into his hand. “Tell me.”

“Let’s get the kite in the air first.” Griffin slid in the dowels, then attached the string. He stood and shook out the kite, then looked up at the cloudless sky.

“Is there some trick to getting this thing in the air?” he asked.

“You’ve never flown a kite?” Darcy stood and moved out of his way.

“I began playing the piano at five and just looked up a couple of months ago. There’s a whole lot I’ve missed, including the art of kite flying.”

Darcy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but she imagined he must have been a very serious little boy indeed. “You need to run while you let out the string, and the wind will carry it aloft for you.” Griffin looked around to judge the distance. “If I stay on the terrace, I shouldn’t be in any danger of falling off the bluff.”

“Go for it,” Darcy encouraged. She watched him cross the terrace in an easy lope and when he turned back into the breeze, the kite bounced upward. “That’s it, just let out the string.” Griffin fumbled with the reel, then caught it and laughed when the kite rose steadily into the air. The wind whipped the dragon’s long tail and serrated wings, pushing it higher. “Wow, it looks like a real dragon, doesn’t it?” he shouted.

“It sure does. Now just move back a little and keep letting out more string.” She raised her hand to shade her eyes, then walked across the terrace to where she could observe Griffin as well as the brightly colored kite.

She remembered the kids who had played in the high school band as being rather nerdy. Not that she’d been Miss Popularity, but at least she hadn’t always had her nose in a book. With Griffin’s looks, no one would have ever called him a nerd, but it saddened her to think he must have missed out on a lot of the fun of growing up.

“Is this all there is to it?” he asked.

“Not really. The wind can shift and send a kite right into the ground, or into a tree. The power lines are buried underground up here, but usually they pose a threat too. Then, if there are others flying kites, your string can become tangled in theirs and send both kites plunging to earth.

“Depending on the wind conditions, flying a kite can be frustrating, or like today, just plain fun. Let it go up as high as you’d like, but remember you’ll have to rewind all the string when you bring it down.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Why don’t you come here and try it?” Here we go, Darcy thought, but the prospect of having him wrapped around her wasn’t all that unappealing. She moved to his side and gradually took control of the string. To her infinite dismay, however, he stepped back out of her way.

“Now, tell me why you need a studio,” she prompted, as much to distract herself as to discover his intentions.

Griffin moved up behind her and began to rub her shoulders. “You look rather stiff. Does this feel good?”

His touch was light but sure and incredibly soothing. “Christy Joy said you’d have great hands.”

“Did she?” Griffin chuckled.

Darcy hadn’t meant to pay the compliment out loud. “Please don’t tell her I said that.”

“I’m going to be tempted, but maybe we can work out something.”

“Do you expect a bribe?” Darcy felt a strong tug on the string and released a bit more. The kite was way out over the bluff now and dancing against the sun.

Griffin leaned down and nibbled her right ear. “Stay for dinner. I bought a roasted chicken. You eat those, don’t you?”

Darcy felt his breath on her cheek and couldn’t recall his question. “Chicken?” she mumbled numbly.

Griffin kissed her left ear lightly. “Yes, do you like them?” He was wrapped around her now, and as snugly as she had imagined—no, hoped. She relaxed against him, and he began to trace teasing circles around the tip of her left breast with his right hand, while his left crept slowly down her stomach toward the sweet spot between her legs. His hips were pressed against her back, and there was no mistaking the intensity of his desire.

“This is what you had in mind all along, isn’t it?” she nearly moaned.

“Do you blame me?”

Darcy dipped her head. She supposed this was simply his usual routine. He would be in town for a few days to give a concert, and if he wanted to connect with a woman, he would waste no time in going about it. Even better than a sailor with a girl in every port, she bet he had women all around the world eagerly awaiting his return.

“Darcy? What was his name?”

Startled, Darcy turned to look up at him. “Whose name?”

“The man who broke your heart.”

Enfolded in his embrace, Darcy could not recall any of the other men she’d known. “Griffin Moore,” she breathed out softly.

To find happiness, first you have to find yourself.

Lost and Found

© 2010 Kelly Jamieson

Krissa has always been the responsible one. Driven to fulfill her mother’s abandoned dreams, to make her husband Derek happy. She’s brought that single-minded determination to the one dream she has for herself—a child. Except she and Derek can’t conceive, and Derek refuses to consider using a stranger’s sperm. The result? Guilt that her desperation is causing their marital rift.

The last thing they need is a long-term houseguest, but Derek’s best friend Nate, a nomadic photographer recovering from a career-threatening eye disorder, has nowhere else to go.

Nate thought his friends’ home would be a temporary haven from the grief that has dogged his heels since his wife died. Instead he’s in the middle of a marriage in meltdown. Soon their friendship develops an underlying hum of forbidden sexual tension. When Krissa proposes a wild idea—that Nate be their sperm donor—Derek has an even wilder proposal: bypass the fertility clinic and accept Nate’s donation straight from the source.

At first, Krissa believes she’s on the fast track to having her dream. But it quickly becomes clear that when the heart gets involved—and secrets are revealed—the simplest of arrangements can become entangled beyond belief. Or repair…

Warning: This title contains a man who’s lost, the woman he finds, sizzling ménage sex, tender
romantic sex, love lost and love found.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Lost and Found: Nate’s appointment the next afternoon didn’t go quite how he’d hoped.

When he arrived back at Krissa and Derek’s place, Derek was already there, home early. For once. No wonder they couldn’t get pregnant if Derek was never home. Then shame washed over Nate. There was a medical reason and it had nothing to do with Derek’s work schedule. And…the same could have been said about Nate and his marriage. There’d been many times he’d been away traveling, taking photographs…and somehow his wife had gotten pregnant. His gut clenched painfully.