The set up?
A sex toy party with her six sassy gal pals? Caitlyn Hagerty is IN! Getting that tingly feeling just looking at the goodies, Cait buys four and screws up her courage to commit to one dynamite plan. She’ll show them to the only man in her life she gets all hot and wet for–and who has no idea he’s the one man she’s craved for too damn long. When Delta Force hunk John Ramos flies home on R&R, Cait promises herself to seduce Ram–or cut him from her life forever.
Ram spots the risque items on Cait’s bed and realizes his claim of her voluptuous body has been too long comin’. It’s time to treat her right. Fess up to what he’s wanted all these years. Take Cait into his chaotic life–for one wild night.
And if she wants more?
She has to know that time is not on their side. Right?
A nibble of my newest cherry:

Two reasons why you must tempt John Ramos to be your lover? Quick! Remember those? Come on, woman!
Fidgeting, Caitlyn Hagerty spied Ram at the top of the escalator in the arrival terminal at San Antonio Airport and her heart skipped a beat. Two reasons, Cait! You know them. The first is no one else makes your heart melt and…
Ram grinned at her as he drew closer and Cait felt the punch in her gut that she always did when she first saw him on arrival home. Though he never declared it outright she knew he was Army, Delta Force, super-duper secret soldier, here today, gone tomorrow. But no matter what he was in his professional life, he remained her childhood friend and over the past few years, she had fallen crazy in love with him. Who knew when. She knew why though she’d never told him, never tried. Courage fled every time she began.
But not tonight.
She waved at him, eager to get her seduction of him started.
Are you nuts, girl?
No. Absolutely not. Her eyes scanned his massive terminator body and her own flooded with wet desire. He was a sight for her hungry eyes. Big, bold and confidant, Ram was an appropriate nickname for a man who dominated any room and always got what he wanted. Tonight, unlike his last R&R, he looked less like a skinhead gladiator and more like a scrumptious businessman whose hobby was bodybuilding. He had grown his black hair out so that it curled at his nape. He wore civilian clothes, too. Charcoal grey trousers, a crisp white shirt sans tie and a tailored black blazer that fit his broad shoulders like a caress.
And that is why, Cait, you can’t wait any longer to show him how you feel. That’s why you pledged to your gal pals, the Sassy Seven, that the next time Ram came home on leave you would strap on your cojones and tell him you wanted his toned bod in your bed!
“Because I cannot go on like this!” Finding no other man I want more has been a bitch! “And my friends are right. I’ll use the sex toys and seduce the man!”
Next to her, a woman who waited for another traveler raised a brow at her, then quickly stepped away.
Okay. So now I act a little loco.
Cait shoved her hands in her trouser pockets as she forced herself to meet the laughing, onyx gaze of the incredible hunk who rode down the escalator toward her. And lord, she couldn’t help how her blood beat in her veins and how her pussy got all tingly just looking at the man who bounded down the last few steps, hauled her up in his arms and swung her around.
His lips, hot and firm, were on her ear, her cheek and, ever so briefly, on her own. “Caitlyn, you are a sight for sore eyes. How are you, honey?”
“Great. Now that you’re here.” She’d promised herself to be blunt with him this visit. No diplomacy. No hesitancy. No chummy Cait, best friend of his youngest sister. Just crazy-in-love-with-him woman. “And gee, do you look like hell!”
“This leave couldn’t come soon enough for me.” His two big hands pressed her against him so hard, Cait got pictures in her mind of how fierce he’d be in bed. Her channel gushed in hot, juicy need. “I had to see you.”

Emily pulled into the driveway of her new home and nearly rear-ended a paneled truck parked in front of the garage. Slamming on the brakes, she leaned forward to stare out of the windshield at the intruding vehicle. It clearly belonged to a workman of some sort. She strained her memory to figure out what was going on. Then she remembered. Her decorator, Sue, had said the contractor hired to redo her master bathroom was scheduled to start work today. Not that she had met the man. She had hired Sue to sketch out plans for the renovations, help her pick tile and fixtures and hire the best person for the job. With her work schedule as hectic as it was, Emily had no time to see to the details herself. Better to pay someone else to do it. She turned off the engine and lugged her briefcase out of the car.
As she walked to the front door, she saw the side of the truck said “Brandt and Son, General Contractors.” She hefted her bag higher on her shoulder and rolled her eyes as she opened the front door. She figured she was in for a whole lot of country music and butt cracks for the next few days. She called out as soon as she entered the spacious ranch house she had bought.
“Hello?” It felt funny warning someone she was coming into her own home, but she could hear the sounds coming from the back where her bedroom and bath were located. The last thing she wanted to do was startle Mr. Brandt or his son into shooting a nail through his hand.
“Hello, I’m home!” she called again and dumping her bag in the living room, continued down the hall. She walked through the bedroom and poked her head into the doorway of her soon to be new master bath. Already the expanded room had been roughed out. She could see where the double sinks and counter were going in. Beyond that was the space where her super colossal shower would be encased in wavy glass. With Sue’s help, she was creating her own personal grotto, a refuge from the rat race she lived and worked in. The thought of standing between the multi-headed jet panels, being bombarded with hot water, made her body shiver with delight. Too bad she’d be hanging out there alone, but she wasn’t going to go there.
A sound caught her attention. She peeked around to the right and saw the soles of a beat up pair of work boots attached to folded legs encased in worn jeans. Looking farther up, she saw a small, tight ass, a tool belt and a worn black t-shirt molded to a muscular back. Thick arms moved squares of tile into place in the corner of the shower’s floor. A man was measuring and gauging their placement. Shaggy dark hair outlined an angular face with tanned skin and a straight nose.
Seeing him caused her body to still. Her eyes fixed on him, her heart did a quick tango. Her body, already a bit warm from her short time in the Texas sun, flushed with heat. Her skin slicked with perspiration. She stood staring at his hands, watching how they placed the tile, made them move this way and that. He stared at them, studied them and contemplated their placement. All she could think was she wanted to be that tile. She wanted his strong hands on her body, posing her, holding her in place, commanding her.
She must have made some kind of noise because he turned abruptly and stared back at her. For long seconds, neither of them said anything, their gazes locked as if in a contest of wills. He was the first to crack.
“Oh, hey, you must be Ms. Driscoll.” He stood up and wiped his hands against the front of his thighs. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I saw your truck so I called out,” she said not really paying attention to her own words. Her eyes followed the movement of his hands. Now that he was standing, she could see he was tall and lean. She swallowed hard and forced her eyes up to his face. “Where’s your son?” she asked rather inanely.
The man’s eyebrows shot up. “My son?”
“Brandt and Son. It says it on your truck.”
His face lit up with a smile. It transformed him from merely handsome to downright gorgeous. “Oh, right. I’m the son. My father retired a few years ago and it seemed pointless to change the name of the company. Besides, I may have a son one day who joins me in the business.”
“Or a daughter,” she replied in a knee-jerk reaction. She had fought her whole career against the notion she was in the wrong place as a woman.
He grinned again. “Or a daughter.” Running his hand through his hair, he added, “Of course, then I would have to change the name. I’m Kevin Brandt, by the way.” He held up his dirty hands. “Best not to shake.”
“I’m Emily Driscoll.” And she was damn glad to have an excuse not to shake. Just looking at this man had her hot and bothered. Touching him would probably cause her to burst into flames.

Kevin’s body tightened as he stared back at his new client. When the decorator had described Emily Driscoll as a hard-as-nails business woman from up north, he’d pictured buttoned down, prim and plain. Two-thirds of his speculation was spot on. The woman was encased in a pant suit and a plain white blouse with a high collar. It was the kind of clothes that said “don’t touch” but man, was he itching to do just that. This northern gal was anything but plain. Her clothing did nothing to hide the luscious curves underneath. And her face was arresting. Pale and oval-shaped with surprising brown eyes considering her blond hair, it was the kind of face one could picture on a water nymph.
Christ, he was getting fanciful. It wasn’t like him. He was a straight-forward, take-charge, kind of guy. He liked his women to be open and honest. He also wanted them submissive and trusting in bed. His right hand opened and closed on an imaginary flogger because this woman inspired the Dom in him. He had been in the lifestyle since his early twenties and had gained a lot of experience as a top. He enjoyed it as did the lovely women who submitted to him. But lately things had gone stale for him. He wanted more, although he hadn’t realized what that more was until now. The woman standing in front of him was clearly strong and competent. Hell, no one got to be a big time executive without being determined and commanding. And that was the appeal. What would it be like to control such power, to have a strong woman submit to his will?
He was dying to find out.

Shoving down every naughty thought, desire and impulse, Petra pasted a polite smile on her face and allowed the sex god in blue jeans to guide her to the front door. For the first time since building her home, she wished the damn sidewalk was a whole lot longer. Maybe if she could keep the flesh on flesh contact going and play a few of her naughtier fantasies all staring Roman, of course, she could build herself up to a nice quiet orgasm. How cool would that be? If it worked she’d make sure to see him once a week for a quick little cha cha pick me up.
“Is the alarm turned on?”
“Huh?” Damn she had to stop doing this. No one able to read her thoughts would ever believe her IQ hit three digits, not with the one track sex parade she had running through there.
“Alarm? Is it on?” He asked in a patient tone people generally used for the slow-witted and window lickers of the world. “You know the loud beeping thing, summons the men with guns and bright flashing lights on their cars?”
“Um yeah, I always turn it on especially if I’m going out of town.” When did it get so hot outside? The Texas sun, already dipping low in the sky, felt centered on her and her alone.
A dark brow drew up at her statement. “You were out of town?”
“Yep, the big birthday bash.” She didn’t have to explain more. Roman would remember from those times before.
“Oh yeah Petrapoolza, how could I have forgotten? What city was lucky enough to deal with the invasion of you and your friends?”
“Hey we’re not that bad and this year we actually stayed in Texas and descended on Alix’s house in the Hill Country.”
“She still living out there by herself?” He reached in the pocket of his faded jeans and pulled out a key ring with a large pink diamond.
Her heart leapt at the sight of it. Years ago she’d given him the key and keychain during the construction. Bright and totally girly Petra expected him to laugh and ditch the bright pink fake jewel as soon as humanly possible. Instead he’d kept it.
Tears fought to spill from her eyes. “That’s so sweet,” she admitted.
“It has nothing to do with being sweet and everything to do with being efficient. No way would this testosterone draining girly monstrosity ever get lost or thrown out.”
Petra bit back her laughter, enjoying the teasing banter even as he used the key to open her thick oak door. “Punch in the code before we both get arrested for the use of bad puns.”
Doing as he said, Petra hit the six-digit code, immediately the loud warning beeping noise stopped. Silence hung between them as did the open front door.
“Come in, the least I owe you is a beer for rescuing my damsel in distress self. And you, my friend,” she pulled him in making sure the door closed tightly behind his tall form, “owe me a story. It’d better be good too since I’ve almost convinced myself to allow you at the barbeque pit.”
He snorted out a laugh. “You’re too kind and gracious.” But he didn’t make a run for it. Instead he followed her lead through the dark cool house into the wide-open kitchen.
Flipping on the lights she said over her shoulder, “Check out the fridge and freezer while I grab my bags from the car.”
Sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, Roman gave her another dumb ass look. “Why don’t you explore the empty arctic tundra you call a fridge while I grab the bags?”
Enjoying the hell out of herself Petra put her hands on her hips and tried to look intimidating, knowing she failed utterly when Roman burst out laughing. “There’s stuff in there.” She pointed to the large silver sub-zero machine keeping her cotton candy vodka at the perfect temperature.
“What about stuff not of the liquid variety?”
“Oh, go get my bags,” she huffed out and went to yank open the door. “I’ll deal with your fridge prejudice later.”
“Sure thing, Petra.” Looking completely at home Roman crossed the bright jewel toned marble floor, opened the door leading to the garage and walked out. “Crap, Petra, have you moved any boxes out of here since my guys left them?”
“Keep moving, nosy man. The bags and barbeque wait for no man, ” she cheerfully chirped out ignoring the heavy sarcasm in his voice.
“Keep it up and I’ll leave you with the garage door on strike.”
“You’re one of the good guys, Roman. You’d never be able to do it. The possibility of guilt alone would keep you up at night and torment you throughout the day. Not worth it, friend.”
He didn’t reply, but she hadn’t really expected him to. A man on a mission Roman wouldn’t stop or be deterred until her garage door worked liked new and he fed her. Too bad the sexy, but infuriating, man was right on one point. She really didn’t have anything in her fridge but liquids and ice cream.
“And that’s why the good Lord gave us delivery people.” Reaching for her ever-present phone Petra opened the app for her favorite pizza restaurant and placed the order before Roman even made it back from the car.
“Hey, what’s taking forever, long, tall and sexy? It’s not like I packed for a cruise or anything.” Quickly she ran over the contents of the cargo area in the back of her SUV. Two bright orange suitcases, computer case, make-up case and her pink satin bag.
“Oh shit! Wait, Roman!” Petra slammed the thick refrigerator door shut and raced across the kitchen, hoping like hell she could stop him.
The heavy sinking sensation in her stomach warned her she was too late. Roman had used the side door off the garage and as she raced to follow him Petra stopped short right as the garage ended.
Roman stood at the back of her green SUV, cargo door wide open, two suitcases at his feet, her vintage looking laptop case slung over his shoulder and something in his hands she couldn’t see, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off.
“Shit,” she whispered shifting from foot to foot all the while wondering what to do next. The mature thing to do would be to walk up and laugh it off, but too bad Petra wasn’t feeling very mature at the moment.
Nope, her only option would be to play stupid and ignore the bright pink elephant sitting on her chest. Slowly and desperate to draw no attention to her cowardly self Petra backed up and retraced her steps back into the kitchen.
“Shit, shit, shit, shitty, shit!” Desperate to smack some sense back into her brain, but not wanting to draw Roman’s attention to a bright swollen red knot on her head, she dismissed the idea of introducing her forehead to the marble counter.
“Petra?” Low and husky his voice still managed to reach all her naughty parts even in the midst of a full blow panic/freak attack.
“Um…yes?”
“Is there something you want to tell me?”
Even knowing he wanted her to turn around Petra refused keeping her gaze glued to the pretty swirled countertop. “Not that I’m aware of. So you want a beer?”
“No, darlin’, I want to know about this. And why you won’t look at me?” The man must be part cat because he moved as quickly and quietly as one. Before she could laugh at him and brush the accusations away his hot broad chest brushed against her back.
“Nothing…to..ah…tell.” Was she panting? Did drool really drip down her chin? Why oh why didn’t she live somewhere with at least the chance of an earthquake? She’d love nothing better than to have the ground open up and swallow her whole. A little death would take away the horrible embarrassment heating her cheeks.
Before she could offer a prayer to Hades a shiny pink satin bag appeared in front of her innocently dangling from a long tanned finger.
“Sure you have nothing to say?”

Taking a sip of her wine, she set the glass on the concrete next to her, lifted the pink bag into her lap and began to take out the contents. Everyone had made their individual choices in private with Gianna. For Alix, her goodie bag contained two new dildos–one pink, one purple, nipple clips, lotion to stimulate her nipples and clit, a tiny butterfly clit vibrator and just for giggles, a pair of fleece-lined leather handcuffs. Not that she’d ever have a chance to use them, but she could dream, right?
“Those look interesting,” a deep voice drawled. “Planning to demonstrate them?”
Startled, Alix jerked at the voice, spilling the toys everywhere and knocking over her wine.
“Damn,” she swore and looked over to see her neighbor, Mackenzie “Mack” Taylor, leaning on the fence that divided their yard and grinning at her.
“You didn’t answer my question. Should I get a beer and settle down for the show.”
Heat crept up her face and Alix knew she blushed furiously. Damn it all anyway. Mack Taylor was one very fine specimen of man. Well over six feet tall, his body was lean and hard-muscled, and well on display since at the moment he only wore a pair of cutoffs. Dark hair worn just to his shoulders framed a rough-jawed face and accented the thick lashes that framed hazel eyes. The same dark hair was sprinkled liberally over his chest, arrowing down past his abs and disappearing in the waistband of his shorts.
Alix’s mouth watered at the site of him. She wanted to lick every delicious inch of his exposed skin.
Down, girl. I really do need to get out more.
She also wanted to run into the house and hide. Of all people to see her new playthings. She and Mack had been neighbors for two years, but they’d never done more than chat over the fence or in the driveway. There was definitely some chemistry between them but nothing either of them had ever indicated a desire to act on.
They were each busy with their own lives. She knew he was single and worked for the DEA, many times on an undercover assignment. Sometimes he’d be gone for weeks at a time. And she was always busy with one high profile client or another. Her big secret was that he had a starring role in some of her over-the-top fantasies and each time she saw him it was harder and harder to remain casual.
Like now.
Especially with his interest in her little pink bag of toys. Not that she wouldn’t like a chance to try them out with him. She ducked her head in case her thoughts were written on her face.
“It’s…nothing for you to look at,” she stammered, pressing the Velcro tab on the bag closed and setting it on the ground beside her chair. She needed to get something to clean up the spilled wine, but somehow she couldn’t make herself move. Her body seemed disconnected from her brain.
“You look like you need a little help,” Mack teased. “Hang on.”
He vaulted lightly over the fence, pulling a rag from his back pocket as his feet touched the lawn and jogged over to where she was sitting. In seconds he had the wine blotted up and tossed the rag aside. Alix thought he’d say something else smartass then go back to his own yard, but instead he sat down on the side of her lounge chair, facing her.
“Thank you,” she told him. “I’m not usually so clumsy.”
“No problem.” His eyes landed on the pink bag next to her. “As my reward maybe you could show me all those goodies in that bag again.”
His grin could best be described as erotically lethal, she thought. Slightly crooked with–oh, god–a dimple at the left corner of his mouth. Reflexively she squeezed her thighs together. Unfortunately Mack noticed that tiny flexing of muscle and widened his grin. His big hand rested on her leg just below the knee, his fingers stroking lightly.
At once the air around them was charged with so much sexual electricity Alix wondered it didn’t incinerate them. From the look on Mack’s face she realized he felt it, too.
Uh oh.

“What are you doing?” The pink flush on her cheeks deepened as she gasped for air. Sparks glittered in her velvet eyes. “This,” she started but reconsidered her words. “We won’t end well. Believe me. I care too much for you to hurt you.”
Her unexpected confession surprised Colin but bolstered his resolve. “Just give me tonight,” he growled in frustration.
“Colin, even if we give in for only one night, we’ll make things complicated between us.” She looked down and sighed. “I don’t have the time for complications. You just have to understand that.”
“I do understand, lass.” He reached for her hand, drawing her back to him, and then held her close. “After tonight, no complications. As you Americans like to say, ‘scouts’ honor.’”
For now.
Breathing in her scent of jasmine and pressing into her soft curves crumbled the reservoir of restraint he’d maintained since first meeting the tempting siren. Lust, jagged and rough, surged through his system like sandpaper, making each nerve ending raw and sensitive.
Unable to reign in his primitive need, Colin crushed his mouth against hers. He coaxed open her lips and brushed his tongue along the inside of her sweet mouth, wishing he could taste more—needing to be closer to her. His lips still locked with hers, he guided her backward until her feet bumped the glass of the great room’s window.
Though he expected more resistance, Gianna didn’t try to pull away. Instead, she melted into his embrace, the weight of her body slowly giving way to his hold.
A moan escaped when her tongue met his and ran down its side, then plunged back again, striking with a fervor he never imagined she possessed. She tilted her lower body against him and rotated her hips in slow circles. With each gyration, her short skirt inched higher, her long bare legs becoming another tease.
Sliding his hand down, he placed his palm beneath her knee and lifted her leg. To his delight, she ground her cunt against the solid length of his thigh. His jeans offered no protection from the moist heat her pussy generated. His dick leapt to life, only to be agonizingly held down by a layer of underwear and denim.
Gianna broke the kiss, but not before biting his bottom lip.
Colin’s breath came out as a ragged hiss at the pleasurable pain. “So it’s like that, is it?”
“Let’s just call it fair warning.” She placed her foot on the floor and leaned back against the window, her red mouth slightly swollen. “I’m serious when I tell you this can’t end well. Even if we give in for just this night.”
“I think I’ll take my chances.” He ran his free hand up her shoulder then behind her neck, allowing his fingers to tangle in the ebony locks flowing down her back. He grabbed hold of the silken strands and gently pulled.
Heat burned in the embers of her dark brown eyes, and a sly smile curved the corners of her mouth. “I’ll give you an hour to stop that. If you’re a really bad boy, I’ll make it three.”

“Hey, Jack! Damn, I miss you.”
Sara Cooper’s enthusiastic tone matched her emotions. She’d enjoyed her visit to San Antonio for a friend’s birthday celebration, but impatience to get home rode her hard.
“I miss you too. Your flight set to leave on time?”
Jack Taylor had been her best friend and her rock for the past few years. Hearing his voice eased a bit of her anxiety as she waited for her carry-on to clear security. The TSA official running the x-ray scanner had spent an inordinate amount of time scrutinizing her bag, then called someone else over to take a look.
“My flight is running on time but I may be late.” She bit her lip.
“What’s going on?”
His concern touched her heart. Sara knew what had the security screeners in a tizzy. She said a silent prayer they wouldn’t open her suitcase and let her fellow travelers see its contents. Talk about embarrassing.
“Uh…there seems to be a problem,” she swallowed hard, “with my luggage.”
The security agent held up her red suitcase and stared right at her. “Ma’am, is this your bag?”
Heat infused her face as she nodded. Crap, she should have paid the ridiculous fee and checked her luggage.
“Please step over here, ma’am.” He grasped her elbow, guiding Sara out of line, and took her to a metal table off to one side.
“Sara?”
The agent donned blue latex gloves and watched her nervously chew on her bottom lip.
“I’m going to have to open your bag and check the contents.”
With her heart lodged in her throat, Sara could only nod.
“Has your suitcase been out of your possession at any time?”
“N-no. Do we have to do this here? In front of everyone?”
“Sara,” Jack groaned. “What’s in your bag?”
“No, ma’am. I can escort you to a private screening room if you prefer.”
Oh great, the agent’s expression had turned suspicious, increasing her mortification. She leaned forward and spoke softly. “I have some…personal items,” she confided. Personal to the extreme. “It was my friend’s birthday and she had a toy party.”
The man’s blank look offered no hope for saving her dignity. Sara sighed then dove in headfirst. “An adult toy party.”
He still stared dumbly as if not understanding.
“You know, vibrators and sex toys,” she blurted.
“You bought a vibrator? Aw, fuck!”
Jack’s harsh curse rang in her ear, adding to her misery. She’d forgotten he was still on the Bluetooth receiver looped over her ear. His disbelief irritated Sara. Righteous indignation had her clenching her hands into fists.
“And why the hell should it come as some huge shock that I bought a vibrator? I’m not an innocent young virgin, Jack. I’m a divorced, forty-four-year-old woman.”
God, how she wanted him to see her as a woman and not merely a friend. She’d been divorced for two years and was more than ready to move on with her life. She wanted to live again. And she longed to have sex—with Jack.
In her pique, Sara stomped her foot and pictured the pink satin bag filled with her purchases. “I bought flavored lube, arousal cream, a bullet, an egg, a rabbit, a dual penetrator, a glass dildo and a vibrating cock ring. Oh, and nipple clamps—can’t forget those.”
There, take that!
The fight quickly bled out of her as she realized the noisy airport had gone very still and quiet around her. The weight of stunned stares registered in her consciousness. A glance at the screener’s wide eyes confirmed everyone within hearing distance had witnessed her meltdown. He glanced at her empty hands. “Ma’am, who are you talking to?”
Sara tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing the hands-free device. “I…uh—” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “Gotta go, Jack. See you in a few hours.”
Sara tapped the off button, dropped the receiver in her purse and pleaded with the screener. “Can we please get this over with so I can find a hole to crawl in and die of humiliation?”
The man rediscovered his professional demeanor and held out his hand. “Ticket and identification, please.”
He made a fast yet thorough search of her bag without putting her recent purchases on display. In fact, the agent avoided handling the pink bag and its contents any more than necessary. He opened the drawstring, peeked inside, shifted the contents around a bit then quickly closed it back up.
Her thoughts turned to Jack, which made the rest of her airport experience pass by in a blur. She’d planned on introducing the subject of sex toys in a more tactful, less in-your-face manner. But she found relief in having it out in the open.
Would Jack be interested? God, she hoped so, because wanting him had become a physical ache. What had held her back was concern for their friendship. Jack meant the world to her and was a major part of her life. Losing him would be devastating, but she wanted all of him and that meant taking a risk.
Staring out the tiny window, she barely noticed the scattered clouds casting dark shadows on the ever-changing landscape rolling by thousands of feet below. No, in her mind she replayed a day six months earlier. The day she’d been sucker punched by her hunger for Jack.

Bright sunlight shone down from a cornflower-blue sky peppered with a few fluffy white clouds, the picture-perfect spring day just made for racing across sparkling blue-green water. Tropical wind scented with salt and suntan oil whipped through her hair, and a light mist of sea spray cooled sunbaked skin. The throaty roar of powerful motors drowned out everything else, allowing Sara to relax, leaving her stress and worries behind. She breathed deep, feeling truly alive for the first time in ages.
Bounced around in the boat’s wake were two tubes carrying Jack’s daughters, Lauren and Emma, who laughed and squealed in delight. But it wasn’t the girls Sara turned her gaze toward. Standing tall and confident at the helm, piloting the boat with easy grace, wearing nothing more than swim trunks slung low on his hips, Jack Taylor looked…different. The same yet somehow…changed.
He looked good.
Damn good!
She stared as if seeing him—really seeing him—for the first time. Windblown jet-black hair, messy as if she’d run her fingers through the silky strands. Slabs of delineated sinew rippling beneath tanned skin, honed from years of hard work. Not overly muscle-bound or too lean.
Perfect.
As if sensing her attention, Jack turned toward her and Sara lost the ability to breathe. How had she never noticed the devilish turn of those lush lips when he smiled? And his eyes. The boyish delight in the moss-green pools made her abdomen quiver.
Jack glanced back at the girls then checked the waterway ahead before once again meeting her gaze, worry clear in his suddenly tense expression.
“Sara? You okay?” he shouted.
No.
She was not okay. Not when her entire world had altered right before her eyes. Oh, she’d always considered Jack to be handsome. This wasn’t the same. She wanted to reach out and run her fingers over his magnificent body. Nuzzle her nose against his neck and breathe in his masculine scent. Kiss his supple lips and drink in his unique flavor. Hear the husky sounds he made when aroused. Saturate her senses with him. And she wanted to see him. All of him. Naked.
Holy shit. She wanted Jack. Not as a friend. As a lover.
Before she could answer, Sara had to remember how to speak.
Pressing a palm against her belly, she looked straight into the eyes of her dear friend, her soul mate, and lied.
“Good. I’m good.”