SMOKING HOT by Karen Kelley
Everything She Wants...
Working the night shift at the sheriff's office has given deputy Raine McCandless more than enough time to fantasize about the kind of man she'd like to take prisoner, so when she arrives home to find a sexy intruder waiting for her, she's pretty sure she must be dreaming.
...Can and Will Be Held Against Her
But Dillon Taylor, with his stunning blue eyes and killer tan, is 100% real, just not 100% human. Half-man, half-angel, he'd love to answer every naughty prayer Raine has ever had. But Raine is in serious danger. And Dillon can only fulfill her every fantasy if he can keep her alive.
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Excerpt from Smoking Hot:
A rush of adrenaline surged through Raine. The exhaustion she’d felt when she turned off Old Red’s engine was gone the instant she came inside and sensed someone else in the house. Every fiber of her being was on high alert.
He stepped out of the darkness.
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, then snapped closed. She’d expected an unbathed drifter with a scraggly beard, not a cowboy who looked like he was made to fulfill any woman’s fantasies. He wore his clothes as if the black T-shirt and dark jeans had been made to fit his broad shoulders and muscled thighs. She hadn’t seen anything so delicious since being talked into going to that male strip show in Fort Worth.
She quickly regained her composure. He might be easy on the eyes, but he was still trespassing. "Who are you?" she asked. When he continued to stare, she wondered if he had a few missing brain cells. "Do you understand what I’m asking," she said, speaking slowly.
His eyebrows drew together, then relaxed as a lazy smile formed, as though he realized exactly what she was thinking and the joke was on her.
She bristled. He stood in the middle of her living room as if he belonged there and then had the audacity to smile, completely disregarding the fact she held him at gunpoint. She aimed the gun lower.
His smile vanished.
That was better. He wouldn’t think the situation was so damned funny if she blew his balls off. "I never miss what I aim at," she added for good measure.
"The bank is going to be robbed," he blurted.
Robbed? Yeah, right. Why would anyone want to rob the bank? The risk would be higher than what they could steal.
He suddenly closed his eyes.
What the hell? He acted as if he was about to leave. Was he planning to plow right past her? She tightened her grip on the gun. "How would you know the bank is going to be robbed?"
He opened his eyes, looking put out that she’d guessed his intentions and foiled his plan to escape. "Trust me," he said.
"You break into my home, then tell me to trust you. I don’t think so, cowboy. Turn around and put your hands on the wall." It was a shame the guy was a few bricks shy of a load because he was damned attractive. Not that his appearance would influence her. She’d met her fair share of good-looking criminals who tried to talk her out of handcuffing them. Their charm never worked.
"The Randolph bank is going to be robbed tonight," he repeated his warning.
Okay, she’d play his game and see exactly what he was up to. "And how do you know this?" He crossed his arms. She tightened her grip. "Don’t make me nervous." She motioned for him to lower his arms.
The slow smile appeared again, but this time it reached all the way to his eyes, crinkling them at the corners. The stranger was starting to piss her off. Their gazes locked and she found it difficult to look away. His eyes were an intense blue, mesmerizing. He broke the connection. His gaze slowly drifted downward as if he mentally removed everything she wore.
Her body began to ache with a need that burned low in her belly. When he finally raised his head, he wore an expression that said he knew exactly what effect he had on her and that she’d stopped thinking about shooting him. Maybe, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t start up again. She raised her chin, daring him to try something and see what she was capable of doing.
"You’re not willing to trust me?" he asked with a slow Texas drawl. He slipped one thumb into his pocket, his fingers tapping lightly against the denim.
Against her will, she watched, mesmerized by the motion of his fingers tapping, then brushing lightly against his pocket. With supreme effort, she forced herself to concentrate on getting him in handcuffs. She stifled a groan. That thought created a wealth of unwanted images.
Somewhere between Fort Worth and coming home she’d lost her edge. A month ago she would’ve had this guy in custody by now and be reading him his rights.
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