Authors: Christina Crooks
Hands On (22 page)
“Cade.”
“Yeah.” He handed the margarita to a customer, and Taylor’s gaze followed the salt-rimmed glass. It shimmered under the overhead lighting, and she found herself licking her lips, almost tasting the delicious salt.
“Lady to see you.”
The moment Cade turned,
everything
changed.
Cade Harper. Bad boy. One sexy guy.
Taylor’s voice stalled in her throat, and she knew, when his smiling eyes captured hers, she was in way over her head.
Cade wiped his hands on a cloth and again Taylor’s gaze followed. Long, lean fingers. Fingers that would touch…
Oh, boy!
He smiled. “You wanted to see me?”
She nodded and felt herself drowning in that smile. His dark eyes twinkled, a swirl of gold and chocolate brown. Just like Hershey Kisses
.
Kisses!
Yep. She was definitely going under.
“Lady, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got a bar to run,” he said, grabbing a knife and cutting a lemon into wafer-thin slices.
Taylor shook herself.
Okay. Come on. Just say it.
“I’ve got a favor to ask.”
“Ask away then,” he said, not looking up.
Taylor burned and eyed the milling crowd. “Actually, it’s a proposition.”
He definitely looked then, and his gaze focused on her. He placed the razor-sharp knife on the cutting board. His mouth quirked at one corner, smiling, gaze assessing. “Sounds intriguing.”
When a good man is hard to find, there’s only one thing left to do. Buy one.
My Gigolo
© 2010 Molly Burkhart
As far as Gabrielle is concerned, her life isn’t at all a mess. It’s simply taught her a hard lesson—never rely on anyone else for her own happiness. It’s not that she’s against having sex. Far from it. It’s just that if it comes with strings tied to the word “love”, she’ll pass.
Now if only she could stop her sister and friends from trying to show her the error of her solitary ways. Especially after their latest trick—hiring a male prostitute for her birthday.
In all his time as a male escort, Jack’s never met anyone as intriguing as down-to-earth Gabe. Or as determined to refuse his charms. She has no idea whom she’s dealing with, though. Jack’s a consummate professional in all aspects of his chosen field. Including coercion.
One minute, Gabe is agreeing to a night of no-strings sex. The next, she’s staring up at a man who turns her body and soul inside out. Jack is staring down at a woman he can’t imagine never seeing again. Both are suddenly aware there are only two ways this could end: a match made in heaven…or sheer disaster.
Warning: Explicit sex, illegal sexual practices, zombies, a clown, and the strangest minigolf course ever conceived.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
My Gigolo:
“If I were a Raiders fan, I’d never admit it to you. And I’d have never survived this long in Kansas City. No, I have to admit to being in a bigger pit of loyalty than you.” Straightening his expression, Jack sat up taller and folded his hands on the table. “If you must know, I am a Bears fan.”
“Shut up.”
“I will not. Da Bears.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I live for the times they beat Green Bay.”
Gabe threw her head back, hooting at the ceiling at both his preference and at the mental image of such a fine specimen going berserk over a football game. Somehow, she’d have never guessed it of him.
“Oh, Jack. Oh, God, that’s hilarious.”
“I’m sure. And now I will point out that my reaction to your team preference was far less unkind than yours to mine. You
so
owe me.”
She shot him a glance despite her winding down chuckles. He wore an absolutely angelic expression of patience that she didn’t trust any further than she could spit a dead rat.
“Owe you what, exactly?”
He picked up his spoon. “A boon, milady. A favor to be named at some later time.” His eyes met hers, darkening to forest shadows, and her laughter dried up. “Deal?”
Not sure why she was agreeing, she nodded, feeling a much less carefree smile quirk her lips. She had no idea what kind of favor a man like Jack would request, but she doubted she’d dislike it too much.
They ate in companionable silence for a while, Jack even getting up for seconds and then thirds. She grinned and debated ribbing him about it, then held her tongue. She couldn’t think of any snarks that wouldn’t come off sounding flirtatious, and she didn’t really intend to flirt with him. Surely, they were beyond that stage. Or were there stages to a booty call?
“How old were you when you and Mike ended up on your own?”
The question sideswiped her, and she coughed into her milk, then swallowed wrong and choked. She thumped herself on the chest with her fist, trying to breathe and cough at the same time. Getting herself under control took a long, painful minute, and her eyes watered enough to need wiping with her napkin.
Thankfully, he didn’t jump up and run around the table to give her the Heimlich maneuver. She’d never forgive herself if her weekend gigolo spent the evening performing CPR.
“I am so sorry, Gabe. Are you all right? I didn’t think it’d catch you so off guard. Can I get you anything?”
Blinking blearily, she shook her head, coughed again, then reached across the table for his water. He met her halfway with it, and she swigged a big gulp, trying to wash away the catch that made her want to choke some more. Feeling a little better, she handed his glass back.
“Keep it. Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” Her voice cracked. She sounded terrible. “I’m all right. You didn’t do anything. I just got ahead of myself.”
She felt herself blushing and hoped he’d attribute it to the coughing fit. Fortunately, when she looked up, all she saw on his face was concern and sympathy.
“Do you not want to talk about your family?”
Shifting uncomfortably, she shrugged. “I dunno, really. I guess Mike and I just don’t talk about it. Something we got over, you know? It’s…kind of hard to think about. She was nineteen, and there she was with a twelve-year-old kid of her own.”
He whistled softly and shook his head. “But you both turned out well, so she must have done something right.”
“Everything Mike does is right. She’s got the magic touch. She makes success out of ashes.”
His smile was more realistic than hers. “You admire her.”
“I love her. She’s my sister. She gave up everything for me.”
He tilted his head to one side. “She seems happy to me. At least, that’s what she said when I thought she was calling me for her.”
Her eyes widened. “You what? What did she say?”
A sheepish grin made him look about half his age. “Well, keep in mind that most of my clients pretend to be looking me up for friends or relatives when they first call.”
“I get that.”
“Anyway, she let me know in no uncertain terms that she really was calling for her sister and that she was a happily married woman.” He shrugged. “So what, exactly, did she give up for you?”
She frowned, doodling invisible circles on the table with her index finger. “Well, she’s happy now, but then…well, she gave up all her chances. She had a scholarship to a good college that she had to turn down. She had to go to work, though she got a bookstore job that she still claims she loved beyond all reason. I dunno. I guess I feel like she could have done so much more than get married and have kids…if it hadn’t been for me.”
Her gaze firmly fixed on the wood grain of the table, she listened to him breathe for a long moment. She didn’t want to know what he was thinking. She didn’t want to be having this conversation. She didn’t usually talk to anyone—even her friends—like this, and certainly not to Mike.
“I guess you’re entitled to your opinion, but she sounded happy to me.”
“She is. I didn’t mean that she isn’t.”
He stood and picked up his empty bowl. “Should I rinse these before putting them in the dishwasher?”
“Nah. It’s a good one, so long as you don’t leave chunks.”
He picked up hers, too, and she glanced up to gauge his expression. He didn’t look bored or falsely sympathetic. What was going on in his mind? Why would he care about her history?
And when would they get to the sex, already?
It was only a matter of time before she asked him to leave.
He watched her turn a page in her book as she swung lazily in the godawful porch swing, and he wanted to kick himself. Why was he inside, looking at her through the storm door, when he should be out there, getting to know her better?
He should have made love to her last night. He’d wanted to, but he didn’t know how to just have sex when he wanted to do more. He’d had entirely too much sex. He wanted to make love.
She’d made herself discreetly understood when they went to bed, and he’d muttered a lame response about leaving his bag downstairs and claimed to be too comfortable just holding her to get up and get a condom. What kind of excuse was that? Not only had he likely damaged any credibility he might have had with her, but he’d halfway insulted her, too.
So he sipped his coffee and stared at her like an idiot, wondering when she’d come back inside and make up some excuse to send him on his way. Why was this so hard?
But he knew that one, too. It was hard because he wasn’t being completely honest with her. He wanted too much to give her what he knew she wanted.
Could he fix it? If he walked out there right now and kissed her, would she let go of her suspicion? Would she let him lead her upstairs?
Only one way to find out.
He put his coffee cup on an end table and opened the door. She looked up from her book, as wary as when he first showed up for her birthday—as if any ground he’d made up was gone.
“Good book?”
“Not as good as I’d hoped.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s
Great Expectations
.”
She grinned, some of the wariness leaving her eyes.
“Could you stand an interruption?”
She shrugged and marked her place with a playing card. He courteously waited until she was done, then plucked the book from her hands. Suspicious, she watched him place it on the grill and then squeaked adorably when he reached down, picked her up around the waist, and tossed her over his shoulder.
“Jack, what the—”
“Hush, woman.” He flung open the storm door and strode through, bee-lining for the staircase.
“What on earth—”
“Shh.”
She sputtered and thunked her knee into his chest hard enough that he grunted.
“Hey! You know, if you hit someone hard enough in just the right place, you can actually stop their heart.”
“What are you doing?”
“I decided to leave today instead of tomorrow, so I am currently preparing to take off all of your clothes with my mouth.”
Hands On
Christina Crooks
Want to make Fate laugh? Try telling her who’s in charge.
Talented, down-on-her-luck puppeteer Ginnie Anderson’s life seems destined to fall down around her ears. Much like the rented bungalow that’s just collapsed in a heavy rainstorm, endangering her precious collection of marionettes.
Her livelihood in need of protection and repair, she can’t refuse her landlord’s offer of temporary shelter in his magnificent home. Under his roof, though, she finds her hard-won grasp on her independence slipping—and herself falling into his arms.
The hallmark of Harry Barrett’s business success: he never makes the same mistake twice, particularly when it comes to manipulative women. So why is Ginnie, who pulls strings for a living, like a siren’s song in his blood? It’s best to put temptation as far out of reach as possible.
Yet when Ginnie’s past threatens to destroy the life she’s built for herself, Harry must decide which is more important. Holding tight to his sense of self preservation, or letting go to capture Ginnie’s fragile heart—before it breaks into a thousand pieces.
Warning: Contains sizzling sex between a powerful hero who likes to be in control, and a heroine whose talented hands teach him the pleasure of giving up the reins.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Hands On
Copyright © 2010 by Christina Crooks
ISBN: 978-1-60928-246-2
Edited by Linda Ingmanson
Cover by Natalie Winters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: November 2010
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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