BARE IT ALL by Lori Foster

BARE IT ALL by Lori Foster

Love Undercover
Men Who Walk the Edge of Honor

A cop’s craving to know more about the woman next door could prove fatal in the steamy new novel from  New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster

As the person responsible for taking down a brutal human trafficker, Alice Appleton fears retaliation at every turn. No one knows about her past, which is exactly how she prefers it…until the sexy cop next door comes knocking.

Detective Reese Bareden thinks he knows what makes women tick, but his ever-elusive neighbor keeps him guessing like no other. Is his goal to unmask Alice’s secrets? Or protect her from a dangerous new threat? One thing is certain: their chemistry is a time bomb waiting to explode. And with no one to trust but each other, Reese and Alice are soon drawn into a deadly maze of corruption, intrigue and desire-and into the line of fire….

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Book Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

 

As she came toward him, Alice’s baby-soft hair hung loose, with silky tendrils drifting over her shoulders. Her big brown eyes, so innocent and yet so aware, watched him intently, the way she always watched him. She smiled and that smile did remarkable things to him. Made him ravenous, when he’d never quite experienced anything like that before. Lust, sure. But such a powerful need? No, never.

 

Only with Alice.

 

Very close now, so close the warmth of her touched him all over, she brushed her nose against his jaw, his neck, his ear.

 

He groaned. Out loud. He heard it, but could barely credit that the sound came from him.

 

From a gentle nuzzle.

 

Against his ear.

 

It was insane, but it took very little from her to get him painfully aroused.

 

“Reese?”

 

He wanted her mouth on him. He turned his face toward her and he felt her breath. Hot. Then her tongue. Wet.

 

“Oh… um, Reese?”

 

She sounded so tentative that he smiled as he reached for her and opened his eyes. His hand encountered dense fur, and the expressive brown eyes staring back at him weren’t Alice’s.

 

They weren’t even human.

 

His dog Cash panted at the sign of life. Delighted to have him awake, Cash barked, turned a quick circle, and… licked Reese’s face.

 

Again.

 

“Shit.” Reese dodged the dog’s sloppy fondness while trying to orient himself. The dream had felt so incredibly real. And so welcome. He shifted – and found himself cramped from head to toe… on a sofa.

 

Alice’s sofa.

 

Lifting his head, he looked down at himself. He wore only boxers, and as was usually the case when he first awakened, they were tented. Hmmm…

 

Where had the sheet gone? Ah, over the side of the couch to the floor.

 

Levering up to one arm, Reese attempted to orient himself – and there stood Alice at the foot of the couch, fully dressed in summer slacks and a sleeveless blouse, her hands locked together in front of her and, yes, her soft brown hair hung loose.

 

But now, with him wide awake, her hair looked tidy, like Alice, not sexily rumpled as it had in his dream.

 

She watched him, but those soul-sucking brown eyes weren’t on his face.

 

They stared with absorbing attention at his morning wood.

 

Great. Playing kissy-face with his dog was bad enough. Scrambling for the sheet now would only make him look more foolish. He wasn’t used to finding himself in tricky, uncomfortable situations. At least, not with women.

 

As a police detective, sure, he’d often found himself discomfited by perps, though usually not in boxers while sporting Mahogany.

 

Alice was many things: a neighbor, an enigma, an irritant and a subtle bombshell.

 

And obviously, based on that ramped up dream, she was also the current focus of his fantasies.

 

He cleared his throat. “Up here, Alice.” Her curious gaze rose to his face. “Thank you. Now if you don’t mind, you could turn around a moment. My modesty is beyond compromised, so it doesn’t really matter to me, but with your face already going pink I’m not sure –”

 

“Of course.” Turning, she gave him her back. Posture stiff. Air uncertain.

 

That lovely fawn-colored hair fell just beyond her shoulders.

 

“Sorry about that.” She strode fast and unsteady to the patio door that led to her small deck. She’d left the door open, allowing in a muggy, late-August breeze that teased her beautiful hair.

 

Given the heat of his interest, air conditioning would have been nice, but since this was Alice’s apartment, and she’d been generous enough to let him crash on her couch, he wouldn’t complain.

Much.

 

“What time is it anyway?” Sitting up, Reese reached for the sheet, but Cash sat on it. The dog watched Reese, his furry ears perked up, his expression hopeful. Reese grinned. After tugging out the sheet and covering himself, he patted the couch beside his thigh. “C’mere, boy.”

 

The dog bounded up with over-the-moon enthusiasm. Because of the undercover sting they’d just wrapped up, Reese had spent as much time away from Cash as with him – and still he and the dog had bonded.

 

“It’s a little after one o’clock.”

 

And she hadn’t awakened him? How long had she been sneaking around the apartment?

 

How long had he lain there without even a sheet?

 

He was generally a light sleeper, so either he’d been really out of it, or she was… stealthy.

 

That thought bothered him, and meshed with other concerns he had about Alice. Her keen observance of everything around her, combined with her cautious air, planted awful background possibilities into his head.

 

Then there was the way she’d come onto the scene yesterday, a big, loaded gun in her hand…

 

“Cash hasn’t been out for a few hours. I was trying to lead him through without waking you, but he saw you there on the couch, and then you made… a sound.”

 

“A sound, huh?” Given the erotic dream, he could just imagine.

 

“Cash sidetracked to you and –”

 

“I thought he was you.” When her shoulders stiffened more, Reese felt devilish enough to say, “And I was having this rather sexual dream.”

 

Wide-eyed with something akin to astonishment, she faced him, stole a peek at his lap, and when she saw he’d bunched the sheet there, she met his gaze. “What do you mean?”

 

“You and me.” He gestured between them. “And damn, but the dream felt real.” Reese scratched under Cash’s furry chin. “You were near me. Breathing on me.”

 

Indignation brought her brows together. “Breathing on you?”

 

Wondering when she’d catch on, he gave a sage, serious nod. “You nuzzled my ear and I felt your hot tongue -”

 

Backing up fast, she bumped into the screen on the patio door and almost fell through it. After an accusatory scowl at Reese for making her stumble, she checked the screen, saw that it remained in the track, and cleared her throat. “I would never –” She searched for a word and came up empty.

 

“Lick me?”

 

To his surprise, she kept quiet, but her mouth – and her expression – softened.

 

“No? What a shame.” He gave the dog a few pets, which encouraged him to shower Reese with more affection. “But apparently Cash would.”

 

Realization dawned. “Oh.” A smile twitched. “You felt Cash trying to wake you, and you thought..?”

“Yeah. Helluva way to start my day. I mean, I’m fond of him, but…” Reese looked her over. “Not that fond.”

 

“He’s adorable!”

 

“Sure he is.” Reese had only recently gotten the dog, and while he’d never considered himself a pet-lover, he and Cash were getting acclimated – with Alice’s help. “I just don’t want you mistaking my…” He nodded at his lap. “Reaction.”

 

Though she covered her mouth, a short laugh escaped anyway.

 

That laugh was as mesmerizing as her smile, and his sheet-covered boner twitched. “Keep it up, and I’ll never get it under control.”

 

Rather than backing up or blushing again, she chastised him. “Really, Reese. It’s not something to talk about.”

 

“Not something to be embarrassed over either.” But he sort of was anyway. What was it about Alice that affected him so profoundly – and so physically? “Not to minimize your appeal, but it happens to most guys in the morning.”

 

“When they awaken, you mean?”

 

“Yeah. It’s called morning wood, or in this case, afternoon wood, I guess.”

 

“I see.” She tipped her head to study him. “But when you knocked on my door this morning, you were wide awake, fully dressed and had just finished working.”

 

He’d also been aroused over the possibility of spending more intimate time with her. Knowing he shouldn’t tell her that – yet – he scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes.

 

“Yet even then,” she continued, her tone mischievous and teasing, “you had a…um…”

 

Having her talk about it wasn’t helping. Reese trapped her gaze with his own. “An erection.”

 

“Yes.” A little too matter-of-factly, she nodded. “You had one then, also.” Though the color in her fair skin intensified, she didn’t look away. “You told me not to worry about it.”

 

“I know what I said.” God, he wanted to kiss her. If she was any other woman, he would.

 

But he hadn’t known Alice that long, and what he did know of her kept him from pushing things. Already, thanks to the fiasco the day before, she’d seen the hazards of his job.

 

Wasn’t every day that murderers and thugs, the very criminals he investigated, showed up on his doorstep. It was even more uncommon for those offenders to get the drop on him. Usually he was great at his job. But yesterday… yeah, he’d suffered a first-class cluster fuck – and Alice had managed to get right in the middle of it.

 

Maybe that’s why he’d been dreaming of her. She’d been helping out by watching his dog while he and his partner closed in on their quarry, and then when shit went sideways, she’d recognized the deadly situation and sent in reinforcements.

 

He eyed her understated, prim façade, which hid so much intuition, bravery, and cunning. “You will never have reason to worry about anything with me.”

 

“Okay.”

 

She was the most curious woman, and that, too, could explain his unaccountable reaction to her. “Just like that, huh?”

 

“I know you’re honorable.”

 

Sensible Alice. Of course she was right – he was honorable, most especially where women were concerned. But in the short time they’d known each other, how could she possibly be that confident about his intentions?

 

She couldn’t.

 

So he’d taken in a stray dog – a dog she now adored. So what? He was polite, mannerly, dressed well and had his own proper persona. It meant nothing, and she should realize that.

 

Yet from what he’d seen so far she had great instincts.

 

The type of instincts usually honed in the field.

 

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I BRAKE FOR BAD BOYS by Lori Foster

I BRAKE FOR BAD BOYS by Lori Foster

Some men are mad, bad, and dangerous to know. But who would want them any other way?

Drive Me Wild
New York Times Bestselling Author Lori Foster

Erica Lee is used to having the upper hand in work and in love. But most men are intimidated by her. When friends dare her to find a sex slave to fulfill her every whim, Erica sets her sights on handsome, mischievous Ian Conrad, who’s about to turn the tables on her…

Touch Me
New York Times Bestselling Author Shannon McKenna

Massage therapist Tess Langley prefers to down play her beauty and focus on her work. Until gorgeous Jonah Markham offers her an outrageous sum of money to tend to guests at his mountain hideaway. Though he’s promised to be a good boy, she has no idea just how good he can be…

Something Wilde
USA Today Bestselling Author Janelle Denison

Jill Richardson vowed never to mix business with pleasure. But that was before devastatingly handsome Eric Wilde and his promise that at work they’ll be professional–but after hours, anything goes…

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Book Excerpt

Drive Me Wild

She'd gotten herself into a pickle this time.

Too distracted to work, Erica Lee slouched back in her office chair and blew her bangs out of her face. Who would have thought that uptight Asia and ultra-shy Becky would have followed through on the dares? Erica sure hadn't. But with only a little prodding both of them had traipsed right over there and done the unexpected.

It boggled the mind, it surely did.

Now her turn had rolled around and hey, it wasn't that she had anything against porn shops or fantasies or the like. But where the hell did they expect her to find a man who wouldn't be a pain in the patoot?

Of course, for them it had turned out great. That is, if one considered marriage great. Erica was still undecided on that particular point. Then again, footloose and fancy-free wasn't really working for her either.

She winced over that sad truth.

In the next second her office door slammed open with startling force. She jumped a foot and almost fell out of her rolling chair. She was alone in the office, and in fact, the entire floor was deserted while employees attended some meeting that she'd managed to opt out of. She'd been so lost in thought she hadn't even heard anyone approaching.

Holding a hand to her heart and ready to blast the noisy offender, Erica looked up - and up some more until she fell headlong into the mesmerizing midnight gaze of none other than Ian Conrad.

Oh boy. Her heartbeat didn't calm with recognition. Nope. If anything, it tripped even faster. Ian was just so... so male.

Hot around the collar and sweaty, clad in blue jeans, a dirty cambric work shirt and scuffed lace-up black boots, Ian epitomized all that was man. He wasn't particularly handsome, at least not in the classical sense, but that didn't lessen his impact one bit.

His features were bold with a strong straight high-bridged nose, a powerful chin, and high, harshly carved cheekbones. His eyes were the darkest blue and piercing in intensity - the type of eyes that froze a woman to the spot whenever he directed his attention on her. His dark brown hair was more straight than not, a little shaggy and unkempt.

Bracing his long thick legs apart, he filled the doorway - and then some.

Well well. Quiet, masterful, impossible-to-ignore Ian. Erica raised a brow, wondering what had put him in such a temper when in the past she'd never seen him so much as frown - even when she'd deliberately provoked him.

Unlike most of the men she knew, Ian was always calm and always firmly in control - of himself and everyone around him.

Not that she'd ever let him control her. "I've witnessed more polite entries."

She'd meant to be a smart-ass, of course, but her attitude got snagged in her throat when Ian took two long heavy strides to her desk, braced strong, lean hands flat on the surface, and bent down - way down - until his nose nearly touched hers.

Good Lord, she could see every eyelash surrounding those mesmerizing eyes, feel his warm breath against her lips and smell his raw, potent scent.

"I know exactly what you're up to, Erica."

Her eyes widened over that gravel-deep voice that seemed to sink right into her bones. Combined with the heat of his gaze, his rough tone was impossible to misunderstand. It was that man to woman tone, and sexual awareness rolled over her. Feeling helpless, she asked, "You do?"

"Damn right." His mouth appeared tight with annoyance, but still sexy. "Your buddy George was more than willing to spell it out."

Her gaze snapped back to his. "George spoke to you?" With Becky as a best friend, and George as Becky's fiancé, she supposed he could be considered a buddy. That is, unless he'd done something to irk her - and given Ian's unusual mood, it sounded like he might have.

In that case, Erica would have George's hide.

"No, he didn't speak to me. And that's most of the problem right there."

Ian's disgruntled scowl was dark enough to make grown men tremble. No wonder he kept it under wraps in polite company. Not that Erica intended to tremble in front of him. Later, when she was away from him and remembering how close he'd gotten and how delicious he smelled, she might shake a little. But no way would she let him know he affected her that much.

"Well, if George didn't speak to you, then..?" She let the sentence hang, waiting for him to explain.

"He didn't. But he did tell a couple of other guys what you have planned at that damn porn shop."

Erica's mouth fell open. It took a lot to shock her, and this definitely qualified. She sputtered a moment before finding her voice. "Why, that miserable rat!"

Ian straightened, studied her a second more and then waved away her indignation. "Forget that. Hell, the whole factory knows what you and Asia and Becky have been up to so it's hardly a secret."

She'd just gotten her mouth shut when it dropped open again. "They don't!"

"You're not naïve, Erica. You know something like that can't be kept quiet. Hell, I'd be surprised if all of Cuther doesn't know about it."

Erica shot out of her chair to pace. She, Asia and Becky had made a deal when the new porn shop, Wild Honey, had opened up in their miserably quiet hometown of Cuther , Indiana . They were each to visit the somewhat titillating establishment with a specific fantasy in mind. As soon as they spotted a man shopping for wares that indicated a similar interest, they had to ask him out.

Asia had gotten off easy when Cameron overheard the initial discussion as well as the fantasy she'd claimed. Without letting on, he'd visited the shop on the right day at the right time and he'd specifically purchased items that would draw Asia to him, as per the dare. Since Cameron had already been half in love with Asia , one thing had led to another and they'd quickly advanced from making love to making wedding plans.

Then Cameron had played big brother and helped set Becky up so she got exactly what she was looking for too - in both her fantasy and her male choice. George had been something of a surprise, but Erica liked him. Or at least she had before he let the cat out of bag. Now she wasn't so sure.

Becky and George were currently shopping for engagement rings while Asia and Cameron had just tied the knot. As the only unattached female still in their circle, that left Erica out in the cold. Not that she wanted to be married, because she didn't. No sir. Huh uh.

It didn't matter that George and Cameron made it look so damn appealing with the way they catered to Becky and Asia and kept them both smiling like lovesick saps. Hell, these days it was downright nauseating to be around any of them, they all walked around in such a vacuous fog of romantic bliss.

Fuming, Erica whirled around to face Ian. "Who did George tell it to?"

"I don't know and I don't care."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" She didn't exactly mean to screech, but there were only around two hundred workers at the factory and everyone pretty much recognized everyone else. "What department do they work in?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I didn't see them, Erica. I was in the ceiling wiring the lights when they walked in. They didn't even know I was there and I didn't care to announce myself."

"Never mind then." She started to go around him. "I'll find out." And when she did, she'd...

Blocking the door, Ian crossed his massive arms over his wide chest and glared at her. "It doesn't matter who they are because you're not meeting up with either one of them."

Erica drew to an indignant halt. She hadn't planned to go anywhere with either of the men, but oh boy, Ian's tone was guaranteed to get her back up. She knew him well enough since they worked in the same company and their paths often crossed. They chatted regularly, too, especially when he'd rewired her office, but then, she chatted with all the men.

Unfortunately, she was more aware of Ian than the others. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something about him just really got to her - and she didn't like that. She didn't want to be drawn to him, but how could she not? When Ian was around, his personality was so quietly dominant that every other guy faded into the woodwork.

Regardless of all that, there was no way in hell she'd let Ian or any other man dictate to her.

Holding his steady gaze, she stalked closer toward him, her stride as long as her leather mini skirt would allow. "I'll see them, and a dozen other men, if that's what I want to do."

"No." He stared down at her from his lofty height. "You'll see me."

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ALL RILED UP by Lori Foster

ALL RILED UP by Lori Foster

New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster turns up the heat with these two timeless tales.

TRAPPED!
Firefighter Ethan Winters may be his hometown’s new hero, but he’s played a starring role in Rosie Carrington’s fantasies for years. And Rosie has had just about enough of waiting patiently for Ethan to get over the past and see what’s right under his nose. She’ll do whatever it takes to fan the flames between them…but will Ethan prove too hot to handle?

RILEY!
Regina Foxworth has no clue why an unknown assailant is out to get a small-town reporter like her. Or why the police won’t take her concerns seriously. So Regina gets a guard dog-make that a four-pound “guard” Chihuahua!-and signs up for self-defense classes. But defending herself is the last thing on her mind when sexy instructor Riley Moore has her pinned to the mat.

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Excerpt from Riley

"Raise your knees."

Wide-eyed, breathless and straining, she said, "No," in such a scandalized voice that Riley grinned. That was the thing about Red - he laughed with her, and he felt lighthearted when he hadn't thought such a thing would be possible ever again. Not a bad start. But he had other things to accomplish here besides smiling.

"I'm not letting you up till you do." Hell, he'd be happy to stay put for hours. Not only did she amuse him, she also aroused him more than any woman he'd ever known. Her body was slight but very soft, a nice cushion under his larger, harder frame. And the warmth he felt in the cradle of her thighs could drive him over the edge.

Her big green eyes darted left and right. "Riley. People are watching."

"I know." He decided to taunt her. After all, this was important. She needed to learn how to handle him. No sense in wasting all his instruction. "They're waiting to see if you've learned anything through all these lessons. Most of them think not. Others are pretty damn doubtful."

New determination drew her slim auburn brows down into a frown and turned her green eyes stormy. Suddenly her knees were along his sides, catching him off guard with the carnality of it. While his mind wandered down a salacious path, she bucked, rolled, and onto his back he went.

Proud as a peahen, she bounced on his abdomen and cheered herself. Wrong move, sweetheart, he thought, and deftly flipped her straight back and into the same position that she'd just escaped, except that this time her legs were trapped around his waist. With the wind temporarily knocked out of her, she gasped.

Half frustrated, half amused, Riley straightened. Because he knew his own ability, even if most others didn't, he always utilized strict control and caution. Especially with women, and most especially with Red. He'd sooner break his own leg than ever bruise her.

He pulled her upright, forced her arms straight up high to help her breathe, and shook his head.
"When you get the upper hand on an attacker, honey, you do not stop to congratulate yourself."

Seeing that the display was over, the crowd dispersed, going back to their own training. Riley stood and gently pulled Regina Foxworth to her feet. She wasn't necessarily a short woman, but next to his height, she seemed almost puny. The top of her head reached his shoulder. Her wrists were like chicken bones. Narrow shoulders, a delicate frame... and yet, she wanted him to teach her self-defense.

Riley snorted. Hell, whenever he got this close to her he had things other than fighting on his mind. And the fact that, regardless of what he'd tried to teach her, she still ended up on her back with him in the mounted position put all kinds of considerations in his mind.

Like what it'd be like to have her situated that way, with no clothes between them and without her attempting to escape.

Soon, he promised himself. Very soon.

In a huff, Regina promptly jerked away and began straightening her glorious red hair. If the woman thought half as much about applying herself as she did to her appearance, they'd make more progress.

For her lessons today she'd restrained her hair in a braid as thick as his wrist that hung to the middle of her back. Already silky tendrils had worked loose, giving her a softened, just-laid look. Riley shook his head in awe. He worked with other women and they just got sweaty and rumpled. Not Regina . Somehow, no matter what, the woman always managed to look more appealing.

Watching her tidy her braid sent tension rippling through his muscles. A man could conjure quite a few fantasies over that hair, not to mention the delicate, ultra feminine body that came with it. Hell, he even found the sprinkling of freckles over her nose adorable.

Riley snatched up a towel. "Quit pouting, Red."

"I'm not." But her bottom lip stuck out in a most becoming way. Normally a princess like her wouldn't have appealed to him. But Red had guts beneath the fussy exterior. And in the time he'd known her, he'd also realized she was gentle, compassionate, understanding, and damn it, he wanted her, had from the very start.

If that had been his only problem, he'd have coaxed her into bed by now. But it was more than that. He hadn't thought to ever want involvement with another woman, but he wanted it with Red.

Riley slung his arm around her shoulders and headed her toward the shower. Not that she needed to shower. The natural fragrance of her skin and hair was warm and womanly. His body tensed a bit more in masculine awareness, on the verge of cramping. "We're wasting our time with these lessons."

"I need to be able to defend myself."

True enough. Three weeks ago, Regina had been caught in a burning building while on assignment for the Chester Daily Press. As a reporter, she liked to stick her cute little freckled nose into places where it didn't belong, and that particular building had been in a disreputable part of town. That should have been her first clue not to be there. The fact that the fireworks dealer had already had trouble in the past should have been her second.

She'd forged on anyway, and nearly died for her efforts. Riley would be more inclined to call the fire an accident due to the shoddy management of the owner, who left opened pyrotechnics scattered about. But prior to that, when Riley had first met Red, she'd been as jumpy as a turkey on Thanksgiving morning. She'd been interviewing his pal, Ethan, for commendable work as a fireman, but she'd also seemed so strained, Riley had expected her to scream at any minute.

He'd discarded her initial claims of endangerment, as had the County Police where he worked as an Evidence Tech. They still didn't believe her, but Riley did. At thirty-two, through life and some hard lessons, he'd learned to read people, to sift real from feigned. Red was afraid, and he'd bet she had reason.

Someone was after her. She didn't know why. He didn't care why.

The day she'd almost died in that fire, he'd staked a claim. Little Red just hadn't figured that out yet. But no way in hell would he let anyone hurt her.

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WHAT CHRIS WANTS by Lori Foster

WHAT CHRIS WANTS by Lori Foster

Men Who Walk The Edge Of Honor Story

New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster captivated readers with her stories of love, justice and danger in the Men Who Walk the Edge of Honor series. Now, fan-favorite Chris Chapey gets his own story!

When the going gets tough, the tough turn to Chris Chapey. As the right-hand man to a group of take-no-prisoners mercenaries, Chris can organize a top-secret rescue mission with his eyes closed. But when it comes to his personal life, Chris is the one who needs a little help.

His problem: Matt Houser. Chris can't deny his attraction to Matt, but Matt has no idea what Chris's job really entails and how much it means to him. Matt challenges Chris to change his life—and make a place for him in it. Can Chris risk telling him the truth?

Look for more titles in the Men Who Walk the Edge of Honor series, available now from Lori Foster and Harlequin HQN: A PERFECT STORM, SAVOR THE DANGER, TRACE OF FEVER and WHEN YOU DARE.

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~Excerpt~

Dressed in his usual aged and faded T-shirt with comfortably loose shorts, his feet bare and his hair finger-combed, Chris stared at the bed.

Or more precisely, the man in his bed.

On his stomach, dead to the world, the rumpled sheet covering only a small part of his lower body, Matt slept on undisturbed. He was so damned different from Chris. Precise in his style and attitude. A hairdresser, for crying out loud—though Matt insisted on being called a Master Stylist.

He was good, no two ways about it. He owned his own upscale salon and catered to the elite—people who were, again, nothing like Chris.

Maybe that was what drew him to Matt. More appealing than the good looks and fit bod was his outlook on life. Matt was different, exciting, fun and easy to be with.

But the big problem remained: Matt had no idea what Chris really did for his friend and employer, Dare Macintosh. He didn’t—couldn’t—know the high-level, influential and powerful reach of Dare’s assignments. Matt mingled with them all: Dare, Trace, Jackson and Spencer. He was accepted. But only because he didn’t know. The others trusted Chris to understand the importance of privacy. Not that Chris dug into the minor details either.

He coordinated for the others, lining up transportation, fabricating their cover. Research. Data. When necessary, he did computer surveillance, background checks, document searches.

He knew the men never left unfinished business or loose ends. They all had the capability to be lethal. They worked with local authorities when they could, but had the capacity to move beyond them when necessary.

Whenever possible, he stayed on the sidelines. If Dare went off on a mission, Chris held down the home front. And despite what Matt might think, he was damn good at his job.

Rolling to his back, Matt stretched, unwittingly putting on a show, displaying flexed muscles and innate sensuality. Even first thing in the morning, Matt looked good. Too good. Chris locked his jaw and his knees, fighting the urge to rejoin him in the bed. But if it was only physical appeal, resisting would be easier.

With Matt, it was so much more.

After a yawn Matt opened his eyes—and caught Chris’s smile.

Which, of course, made the smile disappear. “I made coffee,” Chris told him, trying not to stare too hard when Matt sat up.

“You don’t drink coffee.”

No, he didn’t. But Matt did. “You probably have time for one cup, but I have to get to work.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “That’s your way of telling me to hit the road?”

Jesus, he did not want to have this argument, not now. “You don’t need to get to work?”

An arrested expression came over Matt’s face. He twisted to see the clock on the nightstand, and then relaxed. “I have an hour, damn it. Don’t scare me like that.”

Glad for a change in topic, Chris asked, “Important client coming in?”

“Wealthy client.” Matt grinned. “I make her beautiful, and she tips me really well.”

And of course that made her important, yet Matt refused to see the importance in what Chris did.
Because he doesn’t know what you do.

Biting off a groan, Chris turned away. “I’ll call you later.”

He heard Matt leave the bed, but he didn’t slow down. He just kept walking, away from Matt, away from his conflicted feelings, and away from the need for immediate decisions…

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RUN THE RISK by Lori Foster

RUN THE RISK by Lori Foster

Love Undercover Book One

When Detective Logan Riske goes undercover to find Pepper Yates, a potential link to his best friend's unsolved murder, he vows to gain her cooperation by any means necessary. But the elusive beauty is more suspicious - and in far more danger - than he expected. And the last thing Logan needs is to start caring for her...

Pepper has spent years dodging the corrupt club owner who will stop at nothing to keep her silenced. She can trust no one, not even the handsome new "construction worker" who's moved in next door. The heat between them is undeniable. But will surrendering to passion bring her the safety she so desires - or will her feelings for Logan draw them both into a killer's crosshairs?

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~Excerpt~

“Let me leave you my number. Anything comes up, or if anyone bothers you –”

“You’re bothering me.”

His gaze zeroed in on her mouth. “That’s why you’re flushed?”

Oh God. More heat rushed to her skin’s surface. “Really, Mr. Stark –”

“Logan,” he corrected softly. “Say it for me. Just once. Then I’ll go.”

He wanted to… seduce her?

So it appeared. And worse, he succeeded just by presence alone. “Logan,” she agreed through stiff lips. “I need to go.” Before I do something stupid – like invite you in.Or kiss you.

Or drag you down to the floor and –

He pulled a card from his pocket. “My number. Seriously. Any problem at all – or if you just want to visit – give me a call, okay?”

“All right.” Not on your life. “Thank you.”

As if he knew her thoughts, he gave a warm laugh and stepped out of the doorway. “See you later, Sue.”

Not if I see you first. “Goodbye, Logan.” She started to close the door.

And he said, “Now that wasn’t so painful, was it?”

She clicked the door shut in his face, then dropped against it.

Painful? Not exactly.

Stirring? She felt like a blender on high speed, all her emotions, all her dormant desires, churning together in a frenzy.

It had been too long – like forever – and she was too deprived to be around a specimen like him without imagining the impossible. She needed to find a way to avoid him, but she’d have to do it without causing suspicion. And there was the rub.

Avoiding him was suspicious.

Pepper turned so that it was her shoulders against her door. Head down, eyes closed, she struggled to come up with a plan.

Maybe, she reasoned to herself, she was going about this all wrong. Any woman would be flattered by Mr. Stark’s attention.

A woman like her, especially so.

Slowly, she lifted her head. Did she have a good reason to engage him in conversation? To get to know him better?

She pressed her hands to her cheeks and fought off a smile.

Yes, that’s what she would do. She would stop deflecting him, and instead – she’d shyly reciprocate. If that didn’t scare him off once and for all, she didn’t know what would.

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A PERFECT STORM by Lori Foster

A PERFECT STORM by Lori Foster

Men Who Walk The Edge Of Honor Book Four

He never saw her coming...

Spencer Lark already knows too many secrets about Arizona Storm, including the nightmare she survived and her resulting trust issues. But in order to expose a smuggling ring - and continue avenging his own tragic past - the bounty hunter reluctantly agrees to make Arizona a decoy. Yet nothing has equipped him for her hypnotic blend of fragility and bravery, or for the protective instincts she stirs in him.

Arizona wants to reclaim her life, which means acting as bait to lure the enemy into a trap. Sure it's dangerous, especially with a partner as distractingly appealing as Spencer. But as their plan - and their chemistry - shifts into high gear, Arizona may discover there's an even greater risk in surrendering her heart to a hero...

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Excerpt - Chapter One

Arizona Storm sat quietly on the overstuffed chair, her chin resting on her drawn-up knees, her fingers laced together around her shins.

Waiting.

In the quiet, shadowed room, she breathed in the unique aroma of aftershave and gun oil, and the headier scent of warm male. On the back of the chair behind her he’d tossed his jeans and a rumpled T-shirt. Close at hand on the nightstand, he’d placed his freshly cleaned gun and his deadly switchblade.

His discarded boxers lay on the floor.

He fascinated her.

After breaking into his house, she’d removed her sneakers and put them next to his boots by the front door. The air conditioning, set on high, left her toes cold, but he’d covered himself with no more than a thin sheet.

Again and again, her gaze tracked over him, from one big foot sticking out over the side of the bed, up and over his flat, solid abs covered by the snowy white sheet, to his chest – not covered by anything except enticing body hair.

With one arm behind his head, she saw his underarm and the dark tuft of hair there. Seeing that almost made him look vulnerable – except that, despite his relaxed pose, the positioning of his long arm made a thick biceps bulge.

At nearly six and a half feet tall, solidly built and finely sculpted, Spencer Lark was one of the biggest, strongest, most impressive men she’d ever met.

And she knew some really prime specimens.

His long lashes shadowed his high cheekbones, but that didn’t detract from the bruising beneath one eye. A recent fight? She smiled while picturing it, sure that Spencer had come out ahead. His skill at fighting intrigued her even more than his big bod.

Amazing, but even his slightly crooked nose held her rapt. When and how had he broken it?

She inhaled a deep breath and let it out in a quiet sigh that, given the silence in his home and Spencer’s acute instincts, disturbed his slumber.

Arizona admitted to herself that maybe she’d wanted to wake him. After all, she’d been watching him – and waiting – for awhile now.

His head turned on the pillow, his legs shifted.

Holding herself perfectly still, she waited to see if he’d awaken, what he’d do, what he’d say. She didn’t know him all that well, and yet… she did.

Sort of.

They’d met nearly a month ago while they were both on a sting. Immediately, they’d butted heads, and he’d infuriated her by interfering with her life.

But worse, he’d robbed her of the revenge she desperately craved.

Sure, he had his own need for revenge, so she understood his motives. She didn’t forgive him. Not yet, anyway.

But she did understand.

At least, she thought she did. Once they talked it over, then she’d decide for sure.

He made a soft, gravelly sound as he stretched that long, strong body. His chin tucked in. Muscles flexed.

The sheet tented.

Eyes widening, Arizona stared, not really alarmed, but no longer so at ease, either. She had a very dark history with aroused men, so she doubted she’d ever be unaffected by them. But she didn’t let it get in her way, not when she wanted something, not when she had a goal in mind.

She knew she should have taken Spencer’s gun, at the very least moved it out of his reach. But instead she’d found him in the bed, and before she’d even thought it through, she’d taken the empty seat and settled in to study him while he slept.

Since that fateful day when her destiny had been stolen from her, she’d seen him only a handful of times. She tried to stay away. She tried to forget about him.

She hadn’t been successful.

Stretching, he brought his hand out from behind his head, around to rub over his hair, across his face, down his chest.

As he gave a sleepy, growling groan of waking, that hand disappeared under the sheet.

Arizona’s lips parted and her heartbeat tripped up. She cleared her throat. “Spence?”

Freezing, without moving any other body part, he opened his eyes and met her gaze.

She frowned at him.

He didn’t look super-startled, and he said nothing. He just stared at her.

With his hand still under there.

“Yeah…” Semi-satisfied with his frozen reaction, she nodded at his lap. “You weren’t going for a little tug, were you? Because, as your spectator, I’d just as soon not see it.”

He brought his hand out and put it back behind his head, still silent, still watching her. Almost… relaxed.

His gaze was so dark, so compelling, she felt like squirming, damn it. “I mean, I guess I could wait in the other room if it’s really necessary. That is, if you don’t take too long.”

He disappointed her by not reacting. As if he often woke with an uninvited woman playing voyeur in his bedroom, he looked her over, from her bare toes up to her long, wind-tangled hair.

“Been here long?”

“Maybe half an hour or so.” Curiosity prompted her to ask, “Were you going to… you know?” She nodded at his lap.

“Most men say hi to the boys first thing.”

“Say hi?”

With no sign of discomfort, he shrugged one shoulder. “You broke in.”

A statement, not a question. She did her own casual shrug. “Since you’re not dumb enough to leave the place unlocked, yeah, I had to.”

He turned his head, but not to check on the time. He saw the gun still on the nightstand where he’d left it, and brought his gaze back to hers again. “You know how to make coffee?”

One eyebrow lifted high. “Trying to get me out of the room so you can leave the bed? I’m not squeamish, you know. I mean, with my background, I’ve seen plenty of –”

He threw off the sheet and sat up, effectively shutting down her snide retort.

Ho boy.

“If you don’t know how to make coffee, just say so.” Spencer stretched again, harder, longer this time. Sitting on the side of the bed, he snagged up his boxers and stepped into them. As he stood, he pulled them up.

They fit like a glove.

He still had a tent going.

And she still stared.

He picked up the gun and, giving away some trust issues, checked to make sure she hadn’t unloaded it. Discovering she hadn’t touched it at all, he nodded in satisfaction.

As he passed her, he chucked her under the chin. “It’s called morning wood, little girl. No reason for alarm.” Gun in hand, he went on past her and into the bathroom. The door closed quietly behind him.

Belatedly, Arizona got her mouth shut. Oh how she hated when he called her “little girl.” As of today, she wasn’t quite as young as he thought, and given her experiences, well, she hadn’t felt like a kid in a very long time.

Her brows snapped down and her spine stiffened. She would not let him get to her. Huh-uh. No way.

This was her game. She would call the shots, and if anyone had to be tongue-tied, it’d be him.

She shoved to her feet, but did not stomp. Excesses of emotion gave away too much. She didn’t want him to know how he affected her.

At the bathroom door, voice cold and collected, she stated, “I’ll be the kitchen.”

Minutes later, just to prove a point, she went about making coffee.

* * *

Spencer stood with his hands braced on the porcelain sink, his head hanging, his muscles twitchy.

What the hell?

Sure, he knew Arizona Storm was a reckless, impetuous, headstrong girl. He’d figured that out in the first few seconds of her acquaintance.

But breaking and entering?

Why the hell had she sat there watching him sleep?

He felt… violated. Angry.

He felt extreme pity. For her.

Damn, but he didn’t want her, not in his house, not in his head. He could control the first.

Hadn’t had much luck controlling the second.

Not trusting her to respect his privacy, knowing damn good and well she would snoop without remorse, he gave up the idea of a shower and shave and instead rushed through brushing his teeth, splashing his face and finger combing his hair.

Since she wasn’t in his bedroom anymore, he took the time to pull on his jeans, but rather than mess with the holster, he just stuck the gun in his waistband. He grabbed up his knife, opened it, closed it again and slid it into his pocket.

Barefoot and shirtless, he went in search of Arizona – and he had to admit, anticipation chased away the cobwebs of old memories and lack of sleep.

Seeing her slumped in a kitchen chair, arms crossed, one foot hooked behind a chair leg, jolted his senses even more.

God Almighty, she was a beauty.

Slim, long-legged and generously stacked, with a face like a wet dream, Arizona would turn heads wherever she went. Dark wavy hair hung down her back, usually in disarray. Honey-colored skin seemed in direct contrast with light blue, heavily lashed eyes. A full mouth, a strong chin, high cheekbones…

He wondered at the mixed heritage that had produced such a dream.

As he stood unnoticed in the doorway, she chewed at a thumbnail. Arizona didn’t wear make-up, or polish her nails, or do much of anything to enhance her looks – and she didn’t need to. She could wear burlap and men would burn for her.

“Nervous?”

She went still before affecting a bored expression and swiveling her head to face him. “Do you always sleep till noon?”

“When I’ve been up all night, yes.” He made a beeline for the coffee pot, but didn’t thank her for making it. After all, she’d come in uninvited. “You want a cup?”

“If you have sugar and milk.”

“Creamer.” He poured two cups and set them on the table, then got the creamer from the fridge. The sugar bowl sat in the middle of the table, framed by salt and pepper shakers.

Like many of the things in his kitchen, they resembled cows in one way or another.

His wife had bought the novelty items years ago.

While blowing on the hot coffee, Spencer ruthlessly squashed bad memories. Arizona loaded her coffee with two heaping spoonfuls of sugar and a liberal splash of the cream.

He watched her lush mouth as she sipped, sipped again.

Shaking himself, he took a drink, and nearly choked. Strong enough to peel the lining from his throat, it was the worst coffee he’d ever tasted. Arizona didn’t seem to notice though, so he manned up and drank without complaint.

The overdose of caffeine would do him good.

Silence dragged out while they each gave attention to their coffee. He wouldn’t be the first to break.

Finally she eyed him. “How come you were out late? Carousing?”

Actually, he’d needed to expend some energy for reasons he wouldn’t yet examine too closely. Shrugging, he said, “I hit up a bar, found a little trouble.” He looked at her. “You know how it is, right?”

To his disgruntlement, she nodded. “Yeah, I did the same. But I fared better than you.” Her mouth quirked in a small grin and she winked. “No black eye.”

Had she really been in a bar? Looking for trouble?

Again?

He didn’t need to defend himself, not to her, but still he said, “You should see the other three guys.”

“Yeah? Only three?” Tsking, she let her gaze drift over him. “Any other bruises?”

“No.”

She propped her chin on a fist. “One lucky punch, huh?”

Did she have to appear so amused by idiotic drinking and brawling? “Something like that.” Actually it was a thrown chair that had caught him, but whatever. He wouldn’t encourage her with details. “So tell me, little girl. What were you doing in a bar?”

She looked away. With one finger, she traced along the top of her coffee cup. “Sometimes,” she said low, her voice almost whimsical, “I just need a distraction.”

His chest tightened. He waited to see if she’d elaborate, if she’d share details of her tragic background spent with human traffickers. She had a need to even the score with people already dead, the monsters who’d hurt her badly.

Suddenly she leaned forward. “Can you keep a secret?”

Damn, he didn’t want to play these games. “Depends.”

She scowled. “On what?”

“On whether or not keeping it is in your best interest.”

Sitting back in irritation, she demanded, “Why does that concern you?”

He countered with, “Why do you want to tell me?”

For long moments they stared at each other, and then she broke. “Fuck it. I don’t. Not anymore.” After downing the rest of her coffee, she scraped back her chair. “I’m outta here.”

Spencer caught her wrist. And of course, that got her going.

Quick temper and a boulder-sized chip on her shoulder had her swinging a fist. He dodged it, but she kicked and caught him in the shin. Luckily she didn’t wear shoes, so it didn’t hurt.

Much.

In the ensuing scuffle, his coffee cup hit the floor and broke.

Given they were both barefoot, he did the expedient thing and tossed her over his shoulder. Clamping a hand over her thighs, he warned, “Bite me, and I swear to God, you won’t like the consequences.”

Rather than struggle, she braced her elbows on his back. “You’ve threatened me before.”

“Because you’ve attacked me before.” Stepping over and around the mess on his floor, he went into the hallway, then figured, what the hell, and went on into the living room.

He dumped her on the couch.

She bounded right back off again.

Another scuffle, and damn it, it was too early and he was too tired to put up with it.

“Arizona!” He locked her in close in a now familiar hold – at least with her – keeping her back to his chest, her arms pinned down. He squeezed her tight enough to steal her breath. “Knock it off already, will you?”

Her head dropped back against his chest so she could glare at him. He waited, refusing to relent, driven by… God knew what.

She gave one sharp nod.

Spencer opened his arms, but quickly stepped out of her reach. “Okay?”

“Screw you.”

So much animosity, so much rage at the world. She’d never admit it, but Arizona needed a friend, a confidante, and if it put him through hell, well, so what? He’d been in hell for awhile now. “You came to me, remember?”

“And now I’m trying to leave!”

His head pounded. If she walked out now, he’d spend the rest of the day worrying about her.

Or following her.

He worked his jaw, then said, “I’ll keep your secret. What is it?”

“Oh, aren’t you the generous one?”

He sighed. “The sneer is unappealing. Just tell me what it is.”

The narrowing of her eyes emphasized the pale, bright blue color and the thickness of her long, inky lashes. She drew two deep breaths, making it tough for him to keep his attention off her chest.

“It’s my birthday.”

Huh. Of all the things he’d imagined, that wasn’t one of them. It wasn’t even one of the top fifty.

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FOREVER BUCKHORN by Lori Foster

FOREVER BUCKHORN  by Lori Foster

The Buckhorn brothers return in two timeless tales from New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Lori Foster

The Harlequin reissue of Gabe's Story and Jordan's Story. Gabe's story originally appeared in the 2000 release and the 2007 rerelease, Gabe. Jordan's story appeared in the the 2000 release and the 2007 rerelease, Jordan. Both appeared in the 2002 release Forever and Always.

Gabe

Gabe Kasper, the heartthrob of Buckhorn County, Kentucky, can have any woman he wants. But it's prickly, uptight Elizabeth Parks who gets under his skin. She thinks Gabe's some kind of hero and wants an interview for her thesis. He doesn't consider pulling a couple of kids out of the lake heroic, but he'll answer her questions in exchange for kisses...and more.

Jordan

Jordan Somerville thinks he wants a woman who's a paragon of virtue. But then the gentle veterinarian - rescuer of strays - meets Georgia Barnes, single mother and exotic dancer. She's a far cry from Jordan's dream woman - and she's made it clear that he's hardly her dream man, either. So why is he suddenly tempted to break all his own rules?

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Excerpt from Gabe

"Isn't he just the absolute sexiest thing you've ever seen?"

"Hmm. And thank heavens for this heat wave. I love it when he leaves his shirt off." A wistful, feminine sigh. "I swear, I could sit here all day and look at him."

"We have been sitting here all day looking at him."

Gave Kasper, pretending to be asleep, had to struggle with a small smile. Life was good. Here he was, sprawled in the warm sun, letting the waves from the weekend boaters gently rock the dock with a fishing pole loosely held in one hand, a Van Halen hat pulled low over his eyes and a gaggle of good-lookin' women ogling him. He had not a care in the world. Man couldn't ask for much more satisfaction out of living.

"He is so gorgeous."

"And wicked lookin'. I dearly love those whiskers on his chin."

Aha. And here his brother Jordan had sworn the whiskers looked disreputable and tried to convince him to shave. Jordan could be such a stuffed shirt sometimes.

"I like that golden hair on his body, myself."

Gabe almost chuckled out loud. He couldn't wait to tell his brothers about this. Now that the two eldest were marred, and off-limits, Gabe and Jordan, the only two single ones left, got even more attention. Not that he was complaining. Female adoration was one of those things that couldn't really go to excess, at least in his opinion.

"I don't mind tellin' you, Rosemary, it made me nervous when the first two brothers got married off. I cried for two days, and I was so afraid they'd all end up doing it. Heck, besides dying to have one of them to myself, those brothers were the biggest tourist draw we had here in Buckhorn."

Gabe bit the side of his lip. He'd just keep that little tidbit to himself when he did the retelling. Hell, his brothers' egos -Morgan's especially-were big enough as it is. No need adding to them. No, he'd just stick to sharing the compliments about himself.

"And Gabe is the biggest draw my dock has. With him sitting there, no one wants to get their gas or bait anywhere else. I keep thinkin' I ought to pay him or something."

"Ha! You're just hoping to get a little closer to him."

"No, I just wanna make sure he doesn't take his sexy self off to some other dock."

"Amen to that!"

Giggles erupted after such a heartfelt comment and Gabe sighed. He had no intention of switching loyalties. Hell, Rosemary's daddy had been letting him hang out on his docks since he was just a grasshopper and had first noticed what a pleasing thing it was to see females in bikinis. This place felt almost like a second home now. And since Rosemary's daddy had passed away, he felt bound to stick around and help out on occasion. The trick was to keep Rosemary from getting marriage minded, because that was the one route his brothers could travel alone, thank you very much.

"It amazes me that those brothers aren't full related. They all look different-"

"But they're all gorgeous, I know. And they're all so.strong. My daddy used to say it took a hell of a woman to raise boys like that. I just wish they didn't live so far out on that land. Thinking up a good excuse to visit isn't easy. Not like accidentally running into the other men here in town."

Gabe did smile at that, he couldn't help himself. He and his brothers- he refused to think of them as half brothers- had often joked about going into town to see who was looking for them. Usually some female or another was. But living out a ways, they could always choose when and if they wanted to get friendly. It had been helpful, because once they'd hit their teens, the females had come on in droves. His mother used to claim to keep a broom by the front and back doors to beat the women away . Not that any of them minded overmuch, though his two new sisters-in-law were sure disgruntled over all the downcast female faces since the two weddings had taken place.

Gabe was just about to give up feigning sleep when a new female voice joined the others over by the gas pumps.

"Excuse me, but I was told Gabriel Kasper might be here." It was more a statement than anything else, and rather.strident to boot.

Female, but not at all local.

This new voice wasn't soft. Southern or sweet. She'd sounded almost impatient.

Gabe decided to just wait and see what the lady was up to. It wasn't unusual for someone female to be looking for him, and most everyone in these parts knew that in the summer, you could find him by the lake more often than not. He resisted the urge to peek at the owner of the voice and kept his body utterly relaxed.

"Whatdya want Gabe for?" That suspicious tone was from Rosemary, bless her sweet little heart, and Gabe vowed to take her to dinner real soon.

There was a beat of silence, then, "I have personal business to discuss with him."

Oh great, Gabe thought. That'll get the gossip going. What the hell kind of personal business could he have with a woman he didn't know? And he was certain he didn't know her. She didn't sound at all familiar.

"Well, he's right there but he's relaxin', and he won't thank you none for disturbing him."

"I appreciate you warning."

Well used to the soft thud of sneakers or bare feet on the wooden planks of the dock, Gabe almost winced when the clack of hard-soled shoes rang over the water. He ignored it, and ignored the woman he could feel hesitating next to his lawn chair. The breeze stirred and he caught a light feminine scent, not really perfume, but maybe scented shampoo. He breathed deeply, but otherwise remained still.

He heard her clear her throat. "Uh.excuse me?"

She didn't sound so confident, and he waited, wondering if she'd shake him awake. He felt her hesitate, knew in his gut she was reaching for his naked shoulder.

And the fishing pole nearly leaped out of his hand.

"Son of a bi-" Gabe jolted upright, barely managing to hang on to his expensive rod and reel. His feet hit the dock and he deftly maneuvered the rod, going with the action of the fish. "Damn, it's a big one!"

Rosemary, Darlene and Ceily all ran over to his side.

"I'll grab the net!" Rosemary said.

Ceily, who usually worked the diner in town, squealed as the fish, a big ugly carp, flipped up out the water. Darlene pressed to his back, peering over his shoulder.

Gabe slid over the side of the dock to the smooth, slick, moss-covered concrete boat ramp, bracing his legs wide to keep his balance while he struggled with the fish. Rosemary, a fisherwoman of long standing, didn't hesitate to slip in beside him. She held the net at the ready. Just as Gabe got the carp close enough, she scooped him with the net. The fish looked to weigh a good fifteen pounds, and she struggled with it while Gabe tried to reach for the net and hold onto his pole.

But then Rosemary lost her footing and Gabe made a grab for her and they both went down, splashing and cursing and laughing, too. The rod jerked out of his hands and he dove forward to grab is, barely getting a hold and soaking himself thoroughly in the process. The other two women leaped in to help, all of them struggling to keep the fish and the rod while roaring with hilarity.

When the battle was over, Gabe had his fish, and a woman in his lap. Rosemary had settled herself there while Darlene and Ceily hung on him, both struggling to control their raucous laughter. He'd known all three of them since grade school, so it wasn't the first time they'd played in the water; they felt totally familiar with each other and it showed. A long string of seaweed clung to the top of Gabe's head, and that started the women giggling again.

Gabe, enjoying himself, unhooked the big fish, kissed it-making the women smack at him-then tossed it back.

It was then they heard the tap, tap, tap of that damned hard-soled shoe,

Turning as one, they all peered at the woman who Gabe only then remembered. He had to shade his eyes against the hot sun to see, and it wasn't easy with three women draped over his body.

Silhouetted by the sunshine, her long hair looked like ruby fire. And he'd never in his life seen so many freckles on a woman before. She wore a crisp white blouse, a long jean skirt and black pumps with nylons. Nylons in this heat? Gabe blinked. "Can I help you with somethin' sugar?"

Her lips tightened and her arms crossed over her middle. "I don't think so. I was looking for Gabriel Kasper."

"That'd be me."

"But I was looking for Gabriel, the town hero."

Darlene grinned hugely. "That's our Gabe!"

Ceily added, "The one and only."

Gabe rolled his eyes. "That's nonsense and you all know it."

The women all started in all at once, Ceily, Rosemary and Darlene assuring him he was all that was heroic and wonderful and more.

Little Red merely started in absolute disbelief. "You mean, you are the one who rescued those swimmers?"

He gently lifted Rosemary off his lap and cautiously stood on the slick concrete. The women had gone silent now, and Gave could see why. While they looked downright sexy in their colorful bikinis, loose hair and golden tans, this woman looked like the stern, buttoned-up supervisor of a girls' prep school. And she was glaring at them all, as if she'd caught them having an orgy in the lake, rather than just romping.

Gabe, always the gentleman, boosted each woman to the dock, then deftly hauled himself out. He shook like a mongrel dog, sending lake water flying in cold droplets. The woman quickly backed up two steps.

Rosemary plucked seaweed from his hair and he grinned at her. "Thanks, sweetie. Ah, would you gals mind if I talk to." He lifted at Red.

"Elizabeth Parks," she answered stiffly. She clutched a notepad and pencil and had a huge purse-like bag slung over one shoulder, stuffed to over-flowing with papers.

"Yeah, can I have a minute with Ms. Parks?" He had the sneaking suspicion Ms. Parks was another reporter, and he had no intention of chatting with her for more time than it took to say thanks but not thanks. "I won't be long."

"All right, Gabe, but you owe us for rescuing your fish."

"That I do. And I promise to think up some appropriate compensation."

Giggling again, the women started away, dragging their feet ever step, sashaying their sexy behinds. But then two boats pulled in and he knew that would keep them busy selling gas and bait and whatever other supplies the vacationers wanted. He turned to Red.

"What can I do for you?"

Now, without the sun in his eyes, Gabe could see she had about the bluest blue eyes he'd ever seen. They stood out like beacons among all that bright red hair and those abundant freckles.

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BAD BOYS IN BLACK TIE by Lori Foster, Erin McCarthy and Morgan Leigh

BAD BOYS IN BLACK TIE

Some men you can't take anywhere. . .except the bedroom.

Good With His Hands by Lori Foster

By New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster. As next-door neighbors and best friends, Pete Watson and Cassidy McClannahan have a "no sex" relationship. Until Pete decides he's ready to transform himself into the perfect "black tie" guy he thinks she wants. And once she's in his arms, he'll show her just what else that black tie can do. . .


Miss Extreme Congeniality by Erin McCarthy

By New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy. CJ White knows there has to be a catch when Wyatt Maddock--her despised FBI partner--offers to transfer out of Chicago and far, far away from her: she has to spend one sexy night with the untamed playboy, wearing the outfit of his choice. . .


Last Call by Morgan Leigh

Tess Braeden is new in Justice, North Carolina, but there's no justice when she learns that her inherited home is about to be foreclosed on. Thank goodness for the sensual, mysterious Fletcher Graham. But will Mr. Right become Mr. Wrong once Tess discovers his day job?

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Good With His Hands Excerpt

Pete Watson smiled as he watched Cassidy McClannahan get out of her spotlessly clean white Ford Contour. It was a familiar thing, smiling at the sight of Cassidy. Which meant he smiled a lot these days because he saw her everyday, everywhere he went. They worked together at the Sports Therapy center and they lived in adjoining condos, thanks to the fact that Cassidy told him when one of the units became available. They left the same time in the morning, came home the same time each day.

It was nice. Routine. As predictable as being married - but without the chain chaffing around his neck.

And no sex.

But hey, that kept it simple and easy. Besides, he could probably have sex with Cassidy if he wanted. But he didn't. Not really.

Not bad anyway.

The spring breeze played havoc with her super long, too curly brown hair, whipping it into her face until, in disgust, she dropped her grocery bag and grabbed the mass with both hands.

She was such a contradiction, so much a woman in some ways, so oblivious to her own femininity in others.

Sidling up next to her, Pete said, "You should have put it in a ponytail."

"Bite me."

He laughed. Her reaction to him fell into the oblivious category. She treated him like an asexual pal. Joking with him, putting him down sometimes. And she never, ever primped or prettied up for him. Nope, Cassidy didn't want him. Still, he could get her if he wanted to.

He just didn't want to.

Scooping up her bag, which weighed a damn ton, Pete said, "Come on, Rapunzel. I'll help you inside."

She eyed his bulging biceps as if she didn't see them every day at work. But it wasn't a look of admiration, just one of observation - the same sort of look she always gave him. Unaffected. Non-sexual.

Finally she looked away, saying, "Don't strain anything."

Yeah right. She knew better than most that he was in great shape. "What the hell did you buy, anyway?" Part of their routine for Friday was stopping at the grocery store. Since their eating habits were like night and day, the separated in the store, but met up again in the parking lot. He'd only bought enough lunchmeat and bread to last him through the week, but it felt like Cassidy had bought bricks.

While she rolled up her driver's side window and locked her car door, she listed off her purchases. "Baking potatoes, steak, corn on the cob, and a six-pack of pop."

"Got a big night planned?" Pete knew she didn't. Cassidy almost never dated. In fact, he couldn't remember ever seeing her date. That made him stop and think.

"Not really."

Well. That was pretty damn vague. Frowning, Pete waited to see if she'd invite him to join her. But she didn't. She never took the initiative. If he asked, she'd smile and tell him what time to show up. But why the hell did he always have to ask? Couldn't she just once extend the invitation? Another contradiction. They always enjoyed each other's company, but she never deliberately sought him out.

He loped beside her as they went up the tidy walkway to her front stoop - which was right next door to his, a mere fifteen feet away.

Assuming he'd follow, she unlocked her door, pushed it open and strolled inside, kicking her sneakers off the moment she got in. Out of the wind, she released her long hair and Pete watched as it tumbled free down to the small of her back, swishing above her plump ass.

Pete shook his head. She stayed in great shape, was always clean and well dressed, but she paid zero attention to feminine details like her hair and nails. She didn't wear make-up or perfume - not that she needed to. She always smelled great, even sweaty. And she had a healthy, robust complexion.

Robust? Yeah, that's how normal men should think of women. Half disgusted, half embarrassed, Pete shook his head at his odd musings.

He'd asked Cassidy once about her long hair and found out she only washed and dried it. No curlers, no trims, no highlights. He'd never known a woman who didn't spend hours on her hair. When it got humid outside, her hair drew into long bouncy ringlets that looked adorable.

Like Cassidy, her place was clean and comfortable but not overly decorated. It overflowed with plants and posters and throw pillows. By rote, Pete trailed her into the kitchen.

"You want some coffee or something?" She didn't wait for him to reply, but began filling the carafe, proving how predictable he'd become. He should politely decline and head home, maybe throw her off a bit. But he didn't.

"I can take one cup." Pete set their groceries on the counter, pulled out a kitchen chair and sat.

With the coffee preparations complete, Cassidy set out mugs and sugar before turning away. "Be right back."

"Where're you going?"

"To change. It's warm tonight."

She disappeared around the corner into the hall leading to her bedroom. Pete knew the set-up of her condo because it was the mirror image of his. Where his bedroom ran to the left of the front door, hers ran to the right. He'd never been in her bedroom though - and she'd never been in his.

Today she'd worn loose navy blue athletic pants and sneakers with the red unisex polo shirt supplied to all employees at the Sports Therapy center.

Pete tilted his chair onto the back legs. It dawned on him that he'd known Cassidy about eleven months now. Not that he was counting or anything, but maintaining a close platonic relationship with a woman other than his sisters-in-law for almost a year had to be some sort of personal record. Usually if he knew a woman any length of time at all, he either dated her or was merely acquainted, not friendly.

The thing he'd first noticed about Cassidy - after that abundance of super soft, crimped hair - was her focus. They'd spoken for about an hour his first day on the job, and in that time he realized that she had it together more than anyone he knew. If you asked Cassidy where she wanted to be five years from now, she could tell you. She knew where she wanted to work, where she wanted to live. She even claimed to know the type of guy she wanted to one day marry.

In comparison, Pete didn't even know where he wanted to be next week. Not that he intended to leave his job, his home, or Cassidy's friendship. But after finishing school and working three different jobs before settling at the sports center, he often felt unsettled, as if he was somehow missing the big picture.

Not Cassidy. She set new goals daily and worked hard to reach them. Maybe that's why she didn't date, she was too busy meeting her goals. Pete frowned in thought, trying to remember if any of their male clients had ever hit on her.

No one specific came to mind, but then everyone, young and old, male and female, loved Cassidy. She laughed a lot, honest laughter, not the trumped up, polite kind. She also had nice eyes. Sort of a wishy-washy blue/green that managed to be awesomely direct. Honest, like her laugh.

She was built well enough, of course. On the short side. A little too muscular, given all the time she spent being physical on the job, but trim and fit. She had a body guys would notice...

And why the hell was he dwelling on her body anyway?

Pete stood up and went to her patio doors. With his hands stuck in his back pockets, palms out, he contemplated the darkening sky. Looked like another spring storm on the way. Trees swayed under the wind. Heavy gray clouds raced by. He slid the glass door open so the fragrant, moist air could come in through the screen, wafting around him, stirring his senses.

Now that he'd thought of Cassidy's bod, he couldn't stop thinking of it. And that was strange because he preferred his ladies on the prissy side. He enjoyed watching a woman fuss with her hair, fret about her nails, and reapply her lipstick. It was so intrinsically female.

Dawn, the woman he'd most recently stopped dating, had done a lot of fussing. She was a corporate exec, smart, lots of ambition, and sexy as hell in a power suit. It had teased Pete, the way she'd pair a short snug skirt, high heels and red lipstick with a business jacket that begged to be unbuttoned. The attire emphasized rather than diminished her femaleness. Her glasses were a bonus. The way she pulled them off whenever she meant to get intimate had really turned him on.

"Coffee's done."

Speaking of turned on... Pete watched as Cassidy strode back into the room. No business suits, heels or glasses for her, but unlike Dawn, Cassidy never bored him.

Her hair was now pulled up into a high, sloppy knot, haphazardly clipped into place. Long twining hanks of hair fell loose to her shoulders, around her small ears. She'd changed into a football jersey and cutoffs. A really big jersey - and really short shorts.

Being male, and healthy, and for some reason kind of horny on this almost-rainy, quiet Friday, Pete automatically gave her the once over. Maybe there'd be a full moon tonight, or maybe the tide was high. Something, some unknown force, was making him contemplate Cassidy naked. Eyes narrowed and mouth pursed, he watched as she filled the mugs with coffee. He'd seen her in everything from sweats to bike shorts, so he knew she had lots of soft, squeezable curves to go with the muscles.

As if she felt his gaze, Cassidy looked over her shoulder, caught him staring at her butt, and looked away again. She didn't care that he was looking. She didn't care if he didn't look.

Damn abnormal woman.

Driven by some inner perversity heretofore undeveloped, Pete leaned back against the doorframe and smiled. "Your ass looks nice in those shorts."

A slight pause, then: "Thanks. You want a cookie with your coffee?"

His jaw locked. Thanks? That was it? No more reaction than that? Pete folded his arms over his chest. "How about I take your ass with my coffee?"

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TAILS OF LOVE by Lori Foster and Friends

TAILS OF LOVE, A Charity Anthology featuring stories from Lori Foster, Stella Cameron, Sue-Ellen Welfonder, Kate Angell, Sarah McCarty, Donna MacMeans, Dianne Castell, Patricia Sargeant, Ann Christopher and Marcia James.

From Seeing Eye dogs to the cat who cuddles in your lap, animals are there for us in more ways than we can count. Helping us get through the day with a wag of the tail and a tilt of the head, they let us know that someone is on our side—no matter what. They also have an amazing ability to break down barriers between people; bringing families and loved ones closer, and giving strangers an excuse to strike up a conversation. In Tails of Love, each writer draws from her own unique perspective on our loyal friends—exploring the many mysterious ways they bring love into our lives.

Ten stories that celebrate our animal friends, by bestselling and award-winning authors. All Author and Agent proceeds from sales of the book will benefit the AAF - Animal Adoption Foundation - a no-kill animal shelter in Hamilton, Ohio.

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Excerpt From Lori Foster's MAN'S BEST FRIEND

Her heart lurched as she stared at the small creature with large, glistening eyes. Shaking from cold and unease, she immediately went to her knees on the gravel and pulled a small flashlight from her bag. Shining it at the critter, she found herself face to face with a sodden puppy of indiscriminate breed.

“Oh, baby.” Erin held out a hand. “There, there, it’s okay. I’m sorry if I hurt you,” she whispered. “I didn’t see you hunkered down there.”

The ball of wet, matted brown fur watched her from worried dark eyes. Whimpering, hopeful but afraid, it inched a little closer.

Very slowly, Erin got off her knees and went into a crouch. “It’s all right, baby. You look as cold and miserable as I feel. Come here, now. We’ll get warmed up together.”

The dog’s fur was filled with mud and possibly unspeakable things, like ticks and fleas. But what the hell, she wasn’t in much better shape herself now that the rain had soaked through to her skin and she’d fallen on the gravel lot. She pulled the little bundle up close and cradled it in her arms.
The puppy couldn’t weigh more than three pounds and had the distinct look of neglect about it. In the three years she’d been working with the park, Erin had seen and rescued plenty of wild animals. But never before had she encountered a pup.

Not being a dummy, she wondered if someone had left the animal there, and if the creep was still around.

The little dog shivered in her arms and laid back its ears in a beseeching way. Holding it close to her chest, Erin unlocked her car and slid inside, then closed and locked the door. Relieved for that much security, she decided to take the dog to her apartment and see what she could do about making it comfortable.

She put the key in the ignition, turned, and...
Nothing.

“Crap.” Her battery had died? Truly nervous now, she dug out her cell phone. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

But when she opened her phone and the light came on, she said, “Crap times two.” The battery was all but dead. For only a second, Erin flopped her head back against the seat and groaned. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She had to hurry and call someone, or she’d be stranded here alone for the night.

The dog licked her chin in encouragement, and after a pat meant to reassure, she tried calling her brother.

No answer. Jerk.

He was probably out having a great time somewhere. Not that he could have known she’d need him, but still...

Though it was summer, the freezing rain and cooler night temps sent shivers racing over her. Who to call?

One look out the window and she knew she couldn’t bother her folks. Not only would they have been in bed for hours, but she didn’t particularly want either of them to be out driving in this horrible storm.

As to friends... well, she didn’t have any super good friends who wouldn’t mind venturing out late on a rainy night to save her socially dysfunctional butt.

That left her with only one choice: Gary Rutledge.

Never mind that Gary was probably asleep, or with a woman, or that she’d been avoiding him for a few months now. Erin thought of the last time he’d called, how frustrated he’d been that she claimed to be too busy to see him.

They both knew it was a lie. Only she knew why she lied.

But damn it, what she wanted and what he wanted were worlds apart. His life was already too full to add a serious romantic relationship, and she cared too much about him for anything less. She had enough problems in her life without fostering a deliberate heartache.

But even if he wanted what she wanted, he had big plans ahead and she didn’t want to get in the way of those. And, when she was totally honest, his newfound popularity and social standing intimidated the hell out of her.

Lightning crashed across the sky, followed by a deep belch of car-jarring thunder. The pup yelped pitifully. Erin jumped. “Wow,” she said as she stroked the animal to calm it. It whined and tried to burrow under her arm. “Yeah, yeah,” she told the dog. “I know. It’s time to suck it up and make the call. I’ll do it right now.”

She’d ask Gary for help, but keep things cool and detached. Somehow.

Cooing to the dog, she dialed his number.

On the third ring, Gary gave a low, sleepy “Hello?”

Well hell. She’d sort of hoped against hope that he wouldn’t be in bed already, but it was obvious that she’d awakened him.

Erin cleared her throat and without meaning to, asked, “You alone, Rutledge?” If he was with another woman, she’d damn well crawl home in the storm before admitting she needed his help.

“Erin?” New awareness chased away the slumber in his tone. Voice now firm and demanding, he said, “What’s wrong?”

Her phone gave a series of near-silent beeps, indicating an impending disconnect from dead battery. Jostling the pup to keep it still in her lap, panicked at the idea that her phone would die any second, she rushed into speech. “I need you, Gary. I’m at the park, in the north lot, and everyone else is gone. Bring some towels. Maybe a blanket and –”

The phone blinked off.

Erin stared at it in horror, then let out a long breath.

Had she said enough?

Had he heard her location?

If so, surely he’d play white knight. Surely he’d understand the seriousness of what she asked.

Surely he’d come alone, and not force her to ride back with whoever his current bed-warmer might be.

Rain lashed her window and lightning again lit the area, stretching ominous shadows and amplifying just how alone she was. If Gary didn’t show up, she supposed she would have to start walking. That’d take at least an hour just to get to the main thoroughfares, and the park roads were dark and narrow and... well, scary. But she’d do it if she had to.

Hugging the dog, Erin wondered how she always got herself into these fixes.

She needed to get a handle on her work schedule.

She needed a new car.

Hell, she needed a new life.

Cracking the window to hear any sounds that might be unfamiliar to the surrounding woods, Erin waited. The pup whined in confusion and discomfort. She felt like joining in.

After ten minutes that felt like an hour, headlights shot into the parking lot and a sleek, sporty car crept in. Hope mingled with nervousness, but she’d just have to trust that it was Gary. If not, she might have a bigger problem than she wanted to contemplate.

Silhouetted by his own headlights, the driver got out. Moving toward her in the darkness, he looked big and powerful. His car idled in the silent lot.

Erin swallowed.
He wore a long windbreaker with the loose hood pulled up, hiding his features so it wasn’t until he’d strode right up to her car and his gorgeous face was there against the window, frowning in concern, that she knew it was Gary.

Her knees turned to Jello.

He looked relieved to see her, but also a little pissed. Brown eyes narrowed, rain dripping off his nose, he said, “Open up, Erin, and start explaining.”



Seeing Erin, sodden but safe and sound, helped a little, but Gary’s heart still thumped in residual fear. Getting a “save me” late night phone call from her was not his idea of fun.

He’d called her right back, but she hadn’t answered, and he’d thought the worst.

Now, knowing she was okay, he felt like yanking her petite ass out of the car and shaking her. She’d taken him from a sound sleep to a panic in a nanosecond. For too long now she’d been dodging him, making him nuts, and then to hear her on the phone, so late at night, with not much more than an “I need you” demand... Well, she’d better have a good explanation.

He waited, getting more soaked by the second while she appeared to gather some things in the seat beside her. Without a word she put up her window, opened her door and stepped out to shove a squirming, frightened pup into his arms.

Brows lifted, Gary asked, “What’s this?”

“A dog.”

He was in no mood for her unique brand of sarcasm. “I can see that, smart ass.” Gary automatically opened his windbreaker and held the dog to his warm chest. Muddy paws and a muddier belly scuttled in close, no doubt ruining his shirt. Poor little thing. “Where’d it come from?”

Erin kept her head down and closed her car door. “I found it when I got off work.”

“Which was when?”

“Should’ve been hours ago, but...” She shrugged. “Since I lock up the place, I stayed longer to get some stuff done.”

She still wasn’t looking at him, and Gary didn’t like that. “Why didn’t you answer me when I called back?”

“Dead phone. I guess I forgot to charge it.” Then, defensively, she said, “I’m lucky I got through to you before it went entirely kaput, or I’d have been walking home.”

When lightning splintered the black sky, following by several cracks of thunder, Gary took her arm and steered her toward his car. “Not real smart, Erin. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Her short dark hair was plastered to her head, and rain water dripped over her face. As they walked back to his idling car, she hoisted a bag over her shoulder. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but –”

“Forget about it.”

She started to say more when she saw the Audi and froze. “No, you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Gary hauled her the rest of the way to the car and opened the passenger door for her.

She didn’t want to get in. “You drove your new Audi.”

Now she hated his car, too? “So?”

She put her hands to her head and stood there in the pouring rain. “So it’s a fifty thousand dollar car and I’m wetter and muddier than the dog.”

He smiled. “I can see that.”

Finally she looked at him - but it was with wide-eyed horror. “I can’t ride in there!” She pointed at the front seat of his Audi TT interior. “I’ll ruin your leather seats.”

Icy rain made its way down the back of his neck. “The leather’s treated. It’ll be fine. Now get in.”

“But... I’m muddy.”

Impatience had him nudging her along. “The car can be cleaned.” As she gingerly seated herself, Gary stared down at the top of her head and, feeling provoked, said, “You can help me with that on your next day off. Okay?”

Her gaze clashed with his, but only for an instant. “Uh, sure.”

So much enthusiasm. He shook his head and put the pup in her lap. “The towels are there in the seat if you want to wrap him up.”

“Him?”

Gary helped her to get settled. “He’s definitely a boy dog. You didn’t notice?”

She made an incredulous sound. “I was a little preoccupied imagining some whack-job who might have left the puppy there as a way to booby-trap me in the dark and deserted woods.”

Smiling, Gary reached in and pushed wet bangs out of her face. She looked... adorable. Like a cute drowned rat. “Not too farfetched, really.”

When she gave him a doe-caught-in-the-headlights look, he shut the door and ran around to the driver’s side. Once inside, he stripped off the soaked jacket and stuffed it behind his seat. “You have to be more careful, you know.”

“I know.” She kept looking around the car with awe.

“It’s just a car, Erin.”

“A car that costs more than some houses.”

“Hardly.” He smoothed his hands over the wheel. “It was an indulgent buy. Don’t make me regret it, okay?”

Carefully removing her soaked sneakers and putting them on a towel on the floor, she asked,

“How could I make you regret it?”

“I’ll explain later.” She looked cold so he adjusted the heater. “How’s the pooch?”

“Sleepy, I think.” As dry as Erin could get him, the pup curled up, propped his little furry chin on her thigh, and dozed off.

Gary propped his hands loosely on the steering wheel and watched her care for the dog. He liked the profile of her slender nose, her stubborn chin, the way her short dark hair curled when wet. He liked her gentleness as she comforted the dog. Hell, he more than liked everything about her, and had for some time now.


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