Nine Inches of Snow and the Ebony Princess (16 page)

"I was perfectly within my rights."

"And so am I, Ms. Kelly." He leaned in, lips a hair's breadth from hers, and paused as he stared into her eyes. "Is this what you wanted? Does this turn you on?"

Sam bucked. "Don't flatter yourself!"

"Actually, I'm flattering you." He leaned further, stirring her hair with his breath as he brushed her cheek with his lips, then murmured, "If I'd known you were into the kinky bondage scene, we could have tried this a long time ago."

Sam squirmed, gasped when she met Dawson's hard erection with her slit, and instantly felt moist heat between her legs as her pussy gushed. "I'm not," she said.

He arched a brow. "Not flattered?"

"Not into the kinky bondage scene."
Tell that to your dripping
wet cunt.

"Pity," he whispered. "Now, about this Dawson jazz…" He slid his mouth up, ran his tongue over her full lower lip. "You've never been fooled by my brother before. Besides my mother and Grampa Brody, you're just about the only one in the world who
can
tell us apart."

Fooled? Brother? Grampa Brody? What did he mean by

brother?

Sam frowned, light slowly dawning before she saw red. She should have known something was off-kilter when the man had addressed Dara so familiarly.

That evil, deceptive witch!

Sam remembered the last thing Dara had said to her before directing her to the townhouse:
"I'm going to give you a lead to the
skip."
Not
lead
Sam to the skip, but
give
her a lead. Very subtle wording but it made all the difference.

If the woman weren't already dead, Sam would make sure the deed was done right the next time and kill Dara Kelly herself.

And Dawson! Talk about deceptive. He never once mentioned a sibling, much more an identical twin. But then again, Sam had never shown any overt interest, thus she only knew that he was estranged from his family, and she stupidly had not pried for the low down. She'd loved him, she'd married him, and the rest hadn't concerned her blind sensibilities, not to mention her overactive, twenty-two-year-old libido.

Fool
.

She'd married a stranger. A stranger with a twin. An identical twin. Deliciously, erotically, lusciously identical.

Calm down, kiddo, that's what got you into this mess in the first
place. A fool
and
horny.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Pardon?" She really wanted to tell him that
he'd
have her tongue in a few seconds if he didn't back off. His mouth was so close, breath warm and enticing, if she reached out to lick her lips, she'd touch his.

"This is a first. I've never seen you at a loss for words before."

Sam could well imagine. Dara Kelly didn't seem the type to hold her tongue for anyone or anything, quite the opposite.

"I'm not at a loss. I've said what I need to say. And I want you to let me go and get off."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a bossy cuss?" Dawson—or whatever his name was— grinned, and Sam realized a total stranger held her captive. She didn't even know his name, despite knowing every angle of his gorgeous face.

How could she not tell the difference! He was so much more intense than Dawson was, serious and somber, a very solid and trustworthy vibe about him.

She wondered if the brothers were as alike as they were different. They both seemed to have the same spicy sense of humor; both had the same smooth, bronze skin, the lean-like-a-runner's build; both instantly kicked her female hormones into overdrive, but beyond these, Sam was almost in the dark as to demeanor and mood.

Where was help when she needed it and why did ghosts only pop up at the most inopportune times? Not that she had had much experience with the latter, but couldn't Dara see that she was in trouble? Or did she see and just not care?

Sam was tempted to call for Dara, but held back because of the strange man astride her.

His name is Caution.

The words came out as if said through clenched teeth, and Sam had to stop herself from searching the room for their source.

Instead, she caught movement on the island behind Caution's hand, and peered as a cup and saucer violently rattled then levitated from the marble surface.

She gawked, and blurted, "Look out!" right before the ceramic-ware flew off the island towards the back of her captor's head as if flung.

Caution didn't hesitate and ducked without blinking or releasing her, and the cup and saucer hurtled past his left ear, missing his head by centimeters before crashing into the refrigerator and breaking into so many pieces.

Sam didn't know whether she was happy or disappointed the man had such quick reflexes, thwarting an opportunity for her escape.

Caution glanced behind him, eyebrows knitting as he turned back to her with a twinkle in his eyes. "Neat trick."

Sam bit her tongue in denial, but decided to turn the tables instead. "You too."

He frowned.

"The handcuffs. How'd you get out of them?"

"Trade secret."

"You're an escape artist?"

"Not quite."

His enigmatic smile only emphasized the fact that he had her where he wanted her, and that she was at a distinct disadvantage.

She should have been more nervous, more afraid, but once she realized it wasn't Dawson imprisoning her, her fear had evaporated. For the moment. Who knew what other sort of threat this Caution represented, besides the assault he was currently waging on her senses of course?

"So, what are we going to do about this impasse?" he asked

"You could try letting me go and getting off of me," Sam repeated, but noticed he didn't seem in any particular hurry to do either.

"I like it where I am."

"But I don't."

"You've made that abundantly clear the last couple of months."

Sam did
not
want to get into a debate about Caution and Dara's relationship. "I'd rather not talk about that right now."

"Running away from our problems isn't going to solve anything."

What problems?

"You never gave me an answer to my proposal."

Proposal? Now this was getting just a little too sticky for her.

Sam decided she wanted not only to kill Dara the next time she saw her, but also to make the woman sorry she'd ever been born!

"My hands are turning numb," she mumbled.

He smiled as he sat up straight, taking her with him and holding her hands close to his chest. He slipped one cuff around her left wrist and locked it so fast she didn't have a chance to protest.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"You wanted me?" Caution slipped the other cuff around his right wrist and locked it. "You got me."

"You're coming with me?"

"Hardly." He stood, pulling her with him. "You're coming with me."

Sam got to her feet too, but stopped when he headed for the entryway. "Where?"

"Upstairs to bed."

She arched a brow, heart drumming, and tried not to betray how much his words affected her, tried not to betray how much
he
affected her and that the thought of being alone with him in a bedroom totally unnerved her; totally turned her on.

Who knew she had this kinky, naughty streak, that the thought of him handcuffing her to his bed and having his way with her would zap her pussy with fire and speed her heart to near bursting?

"You're kidding," was all she could manage in protest.

"I kid you not, and I don't have the energy to argue with you about it."

Like a two-year-old, she wanted to ask him a thousand questions—Where was Dawson? Did Caution know his brother's whereabouts, and/or was he harboring him? Why was Caution so bone tired? Early day doing what?—among her top choices.

Instead, she quietly followed him into the large master suite and swallowed hard as he closed the door behind them.

REVIEWS for
In Plain Sight

"Gracie C. McKeever possesses an incredible imaginative ability and the gift to make any type of paranormal element, no matter how unusual, appear perfectly realistic and [acceptable]. With any of her stories, there is never a question of the reader's suspension of disbelief, it occurs immediately, naturally, and very smoothly.

Her action is fast-paced, and her characters are well-delineated.

We come to know them as well as we understand our own friends and family, if not better. Any book by Ms. McKeever is well worth a first read and subsequent rereads, but in the opinion of this reviewer
In Plain Sight
is one of her best!
5 Kisses
"
—Frost,
Two

Lips Reviews

"I thoroughly enjoyed this book and couldn't put it down until the last page was done. The triangle between Samantha, Dara and Caution is engrossing. You find yourself pulled into the story and go through the emotional roller coaster with Dara and Samantha.

Through it all there is still the fact that Samantha's killer is still on the loose which opens up a whole new aspect because it is all connected. To tell anymore would ruin the story. The love scenes are magnificent and full of erotic pleasure that never ends. Gracie McKeever is an author who has gone to the top of my auto buy list and after reading this tale readers will understand why.
4.5 Blue
Ribbons
"
—Angel,
Romance Junkies

Between Darkness and Daylight

Over-achieving and skeptical securities and commodities sales agent, Nova Foxx, is dragged kicking and screaming into believing the supernatural when an almost-fatal mountain climbing accident results in a near-death experience that kick-starts her inherent psychic abilities into overdrive. Nova soon discovers with her newfound "gifts" comes great responsibility and is forced to relocate to another city in search of the subject of her clairvoyance with the hopes of ending her visions and saving a stranger's life.

But first, she must convince him that his life is in jeopardy without revealing who she is and how she knows.

Zane Youngblood is a high school social worker who wants to save the world one child at a time. An impossible order to fill, but this doesn't stop him from trying, especially when he's raising a young troubled teen of his own looking for acceptance and a savior wherever he can find them.

Genre:
Contemporary Paranormal/Psychic/Interracial
SUPER EXCERPT

BETWEEN DARKNESS

AND DAYLIGHT

By Gracie C. McKeever

Copyright © 2007

Los Angeles, California

Nova Foxx sighed as she folded her last piece of clothing and packed it in her carry-on. She’d made enough errors in judgment in the past year to last her a lifetime. Time to rectify.

"I can't let you go like this."

She started; she hadn't heard him come into the room. Nova didn't turn as he neared but soon felt strong arms slide around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.

No one could ever accuse Matthew Dalton of being a quitter.

"Please, Matt. Don't."

Rather than release her, he turned her to face him, pulled her closer, and she let him—inhaling his warm tangy scent, snuggling in his firm embrace—for the moment too tired to fight anymore.

"We can work this out."

Silently, she shook her head.

"How can you walk away from us, Nove?"

"I have to do this."

"You realize this is total insanity, what you're planning."

"I have to do this," she repeated, frowning. "I can't explain it any more than I have."

Matt shook his head and released her. He took several steps away, staring at her from the other side of the room as he forked a hand through rich honey-blond waves. Disbelief and frustration etched his face. "What do you expect me to do while you're gallivanting across the States? This is the worst time in the world to be traveling anywhere by air, especially to New York."

She bit her tongue. Since when was he daunted by air travel to New York? He made business trips there almost monthly, despite the threat of terrorist attacks.

Besides, she had so many other fish to gut and scale, terrorism fell pretty low on her list of worries. The visions terrified her and had for a while, more every day and night. Maybe she was being a little self-centered, but she was only concerned with what she could do to stop them, to ease her own personal conflict.

Nova would have repeated all this to him, but didn't feel like wasting the effort on something more futile than trying to ride a stone camel. She settled for closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"I don't expect you to do anything, Matt," she finally whispered.

He stalked back to her, caught her arms, leaned in and kissed her hard on the mouth.

She felt his tongue briefly caress her lips and before she could object or withdraw, he pulled back to glare down at her as if he sensed that he had stepped over the line, felt her anger boiling and wanted to beat her to the finish line.

"You should expect everything and more from me because I love you."

"Matt—"