Lipstick on His Collar (10 page)

“I don’t know whether to be insulted or amused. There’s no way in hell you have any real emotion for me except maybe lust. There’s no such thing as love at first sight. You were horny. Great, so was I. That should have been enough. But no, you thought the only way you’d see any action was by saying those oh-so-coveted words to the mousey little woman. Wrong move. You blew it. Now get out of my house.”

Face burning with shame, angrier at herself than him, she drew a hand across her mouth, wiping his passion away.
I never learn.
She had forgotten for one brief moment she didn’t belong in his circle, in his arms or in his life. Any man would drink from an available well but they never bought the property unless it was prime acreage.

“Think about it, Frannie,” he pleaded. “It’s like destiny is throwing us together, showing us how much alike we are, how special we can be together. I know what I feel. This is real.”

“
This
is nuts and so are you. Out!” She thundered toward him, a bundle of raw, aching fury. Grabbing his coat, she flung it at him as he walked backwards up her hallway. “Out! Out! Out!”

She wrenched the doorknob so hard it flew out of her hand and hit the wall behind her. Jinx pulled her against him for a firm, deep kiss.
Gawd, he knows how to kiss like a sailor knows how to tie knots.
She faltered for just one second and leaned into his mouth before pushing him away.

“I knew it!” In excitement, his brows arched to form perfect horizontal parentheses above his dancing eyes. “You feel it, too. I see it in your eyes.”

“That isn’t love. That’s contempt. Out! Before I call the police.”

He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand and bent toward her. Frozen in place, Frannie swallowed, her mouth longing for his once more.
I am so weak
. A fraction of an inch from her face, he whispered, “We both know if I just pick you up and carry you upstairs, the only calling will be you screaming my name when you come.”

Her jaw dropped and she stared at him in speechless shock. She flashed on all those affronted face slaps in black-and-white movies and her palm itched to make a rerun. If her vision was red tinged before, it erupted in crimson edges when he smirked at her.

“Who in the hell do you think you are with that arrogant, high-handed, sexually dominant crap? You know what? Never mind. I don’t care. Just leave, now!”

Jinx leaned on the doorframe and chuckled, which sent her volcanic ire skyrocketing. “Damn, you’re feisty. I’m going to marry you, know that?”

“And I’m going to commit you. Now, out of my house, fruit loop!”

With a confident smile like the cat that ate the canary, the magpie and the bluebird all in one bite, he took two steps to stand on the threshold before turning. “I’ll go. But I’ll see you tomorrow, Frannie. We’re meant to be. I’m going to prove it to you.”

Frannie slammed the door in his face, her lips twisted in an ugly sneer of rejection. Two seconds later, she re-opened the door and pitched his boots at him.
Missed, damn
. Bare chested in the frosty moonlight, he grinned at her like a lovesick fool. She banged the door closed, snapped off the porch light and threw the lock with a loud click. His laughter sounded through the leaded glass.

In this game of love, winning is not an option.

All Or Nothing

© 2010 Dee Tenorio

The Lonnigans, Book 2

Lucas Lonnigan thinks he’s finally gotten the best of his twin brother, until he discovers his half of a date-swap is none other than metal artist Belinda Riggs. A leather-dipped Goth queen who considers him a cross between a pin cushion and a science project—and the woman he’s loved forever.

Belinda isn’t exactly overjoyed to see him, either. In her opinion, love means becoming a punching bag, and she won’t be anyone’s doormat. Lucas is too dangerously tempting to allow within striking distance of her heart, but that doesn’t stop her from wanting.

After one blazing night of passion, Lucas finds himself locked out of Belle’s life with seemingly no chance to get back in. With nothing left to lose, Lucas makes a final play and appeals to the one thing Belle can’t say no to—a dare. Winner take all.

Lucas may think this crazy game will decide their relationship, but she sees it as her chance to finally set him free—and maybe indulge in the sexiest goodbye of her life…

Warning: Story may sizzle your undies off. Includes pigheaded hero with a cranky heart of gold, bitchy heroine with a flamethrower, massively inappropriate behavior, make-up / break-up sex of the sinful kind…and a puppy!

Enjoy the following excerpt for
All Or Nothing:

Only decent people feel guilty, Belinda told herself while she tried to drown in her shower. Face to the hard, hot spray, she hoped the stinging impact would wash the sense of guilt away. The last thing anyone had called her for the past decade was
decent
. She thrived on being rude, heartless and flat-out bitchy when the occasion called for it. The tugs of conscience were harder to feel that way. Usually. But now, because of a box of scraps, the tugs of guilt were feeling more like whips.

It’s for his own good.

He’d move on. Find someone who would love him like he deserved. Love him like he needed. Someone at least
slightly
less wrecked than herself.

But being right and being guilt-free were apparently not mutually exclusive.

Angry, she turned off the water…and heard so loud a clank Michigan could have landed outside. She frowned at the handle, but then there was another crunching clank. Rising on her toes, she tried to look out the small window at the top of the stall, but could only see a piece of metal flying. What the hell was going on out there?

Then she heard the bark.

Eyes wide, she lowered herself from the window. Lucas. In her yard. While she was naked.

That sprang her into action more than anything, despite the fact that he was hucking around heavy metal like it was a discus tournament. She threw back the curtain, grabbing the towel waiting there on her way out. Not wanting to take any more time than necessary, she dried off with only a ragged pat-down. She was too busy trying to rustle up her temper to acknowledge her terror at being cornered. He had no right to be there uninvited. He had no right coming when he knew she didn’t want him there. He simply had no rights at all.

She stomped into a pair of coveralls, yanked on a worn pink tank top that had seen enough bleach to make it good for summer work and wrapped a bandana over her wet hair to keep it out of her face. By the time she had her work boots secure, she was fantasizing about introducing him to the steel toe. He probably didn’t hear her rumbling down the steps, but he damn sure heard her when she exited the bay doors to the open yard beyond with her hands on her hips and the fire of hell in her lungs.

“What the
fuck
do you think you’re doing?”

“You don’t want to be pushing my buttons right now, Belle,” he answered in typical growl mode, not bothering to look at her.

She scoffed, watching him pick up an abandoned sink from the back of the ancient Mazda flatbed she used for junking and take it to a pile of other midsized items. He was in cut-off gray sweat shorts and tennis shoes. His T-shirt was off, one end tucked into his back waistband, leaving all that warm honey skin open to her viewing pleasure. Mad or not, it
was
a pleasure to look at him, especially since he was already slick.

“You’re in
my
yard, Lonnigan. I can push any button I damn well please.”

He ignored her. He actually ignored her. A few pieces of pipe got thrown into the small pipe pile, making the puppy yelp as he hopped to avoid things being lobbed all around. He wasn’t in any danger, but she could tell by his darting eyes and tucked tail,
he
didn’t know that.

Against her better judgment, she bit her inwardly cupped lower lip and whistled. “Over here, Sparky, before your daddy kills you.”

The pup was grateful, running awkwardly on huge paws, but if the suddenly flying wheel rims were any indication, Lucas wasn’t.

“I didn’t ask you to do this.” Not that she ever did. She had a deal with the local junker to take a truckload of sortables off his hands each month. Lucas always showed up on sort day to load up her truck at the junkyard and unload it in her metal yard. It was just one other thing she’d have to learn to do without him. She hadn’t had the energy to do it since their “date”. Hard to believe it happened less than a week ago.

She circled the truck, putting her hand on the bed wall while he reached in for another sink. He dragged it toward himself, every muscle in his arms and torso flexing with the effort and all but knocking the wind out of her.

Huffing, she grabbed the edge of the sink and tugged it her way. “Stop. I don’t want you to do this.”

“This isn’t about you,” he bit out. He wouldn’t even look at her, but his leather gloves made a loud noise as he tightened his grip.

“Like hell it isn’t.”

“What I mean is that I don’t
care
what you want, Belle.” He yanked the sink out of her grasp, hefted it onto his shoulder and walked away with it.

She stayed there, her mouth open in shock while he crossed to her piles and dumped it unceremoniously next to the last one. He walked back, his eyes narrow in the morning sunlight but flaring with brilliant color anyway. Rage made him dangerous. She could sense the ripple of power under his control, feel the energy crackling through him. Her response to it felt elemental, like a magnet being drawn to a far more powerful source. She held the truck wall tighter to keep from going to him, despite the fact that he wasn’t even looking at her to beckon her. In fact, he was looking everywhere but at her. Which only angered her more.

“Lucas!” She felt his attention shift to her even if his eyes didn’t. “What part of
go away
is hard for you to understand?”

He flexed his hands inside the work gloves. Open once. Close once. Open again. Then they closed into a knot of flesh and leather. She felt his gaze hit her like a fist, instantly making her regret pushing.

She took a step back. Not in fear of him, but his intensity. Every emotion seemed to flow like molten energy in his eyes. Pain. Desire. Anger. Need. Hot, hungry need. She took another step as he came towards her.

“What’s the matter, Belle? You look worried.”

Because she
was
. “I don’t want you here.”

“Why?” She must look defensive, too, if his pleased perusal meant anything.

“Why what?”

“Why don’t you want me here?” With each word he came closer and she retreated further to the warehouse. The dog danced around her feet, looking for a place to stay, probably wondering if this was a game. “You never had a problem with me here before.”

“I have a problem now.”
Yeah, brilliant response, dumbass.

“Why?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
Run for friggin’ Congress, Belinda. Geez.

“Oh, yes, you do. You never have, but you should.”

His autocratic remark finally cemented her feet in place. Anger, wonderful, spine-stiffening anger, flooded her. He kept advancing, stopping only when their chests touched with each heaving breath they took. Not that she understood why either of them was breathing so hard. They were only talking…right?

She poked her finger against his chest. “All I
should
have to do is tell you to go, Lucas. That’s enough for everyone else.” Well, it would be, if anyone else were allowed on her property.

“You haven’t told me to go.”

She thought over their conversation, momentarily befuddled. Hadn’t she told him to leave? She couldn’t remember. “I’m telling you now.”

“Go ahead.”

Maybe it was the tremble in her body, having him so close. Or just the power of his gaze drilling into her, but she couldn’t form the words. Any words at all.

He nodded slowly, understanding—damn him—and their breathing seemed to slow down. She got lost in his gaze, in the fiery touch of his now bare thumb on her jaw.

“No matter what you do or how you hurt me, you can’t make what’s between us go away. You can’t make
me
disappear, Belinda. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her body clenched, caught between wanting to defy and wanting to hide. “You were the one who wanted out, Lucas. I’m just holding you to it.”

“I was wrong.”

That required blinking. Lucas was never wrong. He didn’t know how to be wrong. She was about to mention that, but his mouth descended on hers. His arm snaked around her at the same time, yanking her against him while his other hand cupped the back of her head.

She didn’t want to use the word
helpless
. It didn’t apply. But she did feel powerless—against him, against her own needs—when her hands took hold of his hot shoulders, sliding slightly against the sweat there while his tongue plundered her mouth with devastating accuracy. He didn’t stop the battle until she whimpered, until she was clinging and tears seeped beneath her tightly closed lashes. Then he was gentle, soothing with caresses of his lips…and then he was gone.

As quickly as the kiss came, it was over. She was released and he looked grimmer than before, arms outstretched wide. To keep himself from touching her?

“This isn’t over,” he said, a dark promise that locked around her like a vise.

She touched her mouth, still wet, still possessed by him. Every inch of her felt possessed, owned, by his proprietary gaze.

“Now get inside and lock the door before I change my mind and take you right here in the dirt.”

So Belinda did what any woman did when her knees were melted, her heart was confused and the man in front of her was the last man she could afford to love.

One wrong move, and she could be dancing on her grave…

Pas de Deux

© 2010 Fiona Jayde

Two years after an injury put her dancing career on hold, Lynnrina Kovaleva is determined to reclaim her place on the stage. On the eve of her comeback production, she takes the edge off her nerves with a one-night stand in the strong arms of celebrity bodyguard Mateo Rivera.