A Forever Kind of Guy: The Braddock Brotherhood, Book 2 (40 page)

“Nope. I won’t be here soon. I have plans.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re leaving your clients?”

Elisa fell silent. Possibly he had pushed for too much information from a woman he hadn’t seen in years, but words used to come easily between them. A bit of awkwardness, he could understand. Her treating him like a complete stranger, though, was odd.

“I’m not a doctor,” she finally answered. “I’m helping out my brother. I decided this isn’t the business for me, so I’m finishing school right now and—” She stopped then clapped her hands. “But who wants to hear about that? Finish your paperwork and then I’ll show you around. Justin should be here soon.”

She avoided his eyes and talked business while she bustled around her desk. She’d mentioned something about school…and that she’d lost interest in her dream of becoming a vet. His mood soured. He could guess what had thrown her off track.

Hoping for the whole story, Liam feigned casual interest. “What are you studying?”

She handed him a pen and directed him to the row of blue chairs that lined one wall of the waiting room. “Public relations.”

Swallowing his disbelief, he scrawled his personal data across the top of the first form and waited for her to continue. She’d always talked about being involved in people’s lives, immersed in hands-on experience. Why in the world would she choose something so…corporate?

His ears met silence. She wasn’t going to give him an inch.

He pressed on. “That sounds interesting. Where would you like to work?”

“I’ve gotten some interest from a software company in Nashville.” Elisa’s face twisted, and she snatched the forms from his hands. “You can finish this paperwork later. Let me show you around this place so we can both get to work.”

Tossing the clipboard onto her desk as she passed, she stalked into the back of the clinic. Liam followed her, not keen to cause problems during his first hour on the job. “Did I say something wrong?”

She stopped inside a doorway. “I don’t want to talk about my plans. I want us to…just work today, okay?”

In other words,
let’s pretend we never knew each other.
Apparently, it was the theme of the day. If he’d entertained any hope that over the years she might have come to value him more than she used to, he could go ahead and forget it. His role in her life remained that of sidekick—nice guy, reliable pal.

Oh well. He had spent enough time picking up the pieces each time her arrogant ex broke her heart. If she still went for that type of guy, it wasn’t Liam’s business or problem.

Elisa’s gaze dropped when he met her eyes, as if she knew what he was thinking.

He’s the one problem she can’t solve.

Best Man, Worst Man

© 2011 Stacy Gail

From hysterical bridezillas to grooms with sub-zero feet, renowned wedding planner Claire Pomeroy has never met a disaster she couldn’t handle. Then she runs afoul of her client’s not-so-best man, a devilishly flirtatious rogue with a killer smile and a chest as solid as a concrete roadblock. Yet their sparks of attraction only highlight his obvious quest—to make sure this wedding knot never gets tied.

Confirmed bachelor Ryder Price knows one unshakable truth: marriage is nothing but a fairy tale. No way is he going to stand idly by while his wingman face-plants into the dreaded marital trap. But there’s a problem. A dark-eyed, dangerously curvaceous problem who’s bound and determined to pull this wedding off.

As her suddenly skittish clients teeter on the edge of cancellation, Claire challenges her nemesis to imagine long-term as something more than a quickie and a vague promise to call. Ryder counters with a challenge of his own. Let him give her a taste of just how fulfilling a little no-strings-attached passion can be.

Warning: This product contains cold feet, heavy petting, heavier breathing, and chocolate-covered fingers. To avoid a sweet-tooth side-effect, the author recommends having a chocolate-covered man nearby.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Best Man, Worst Man:

Having Ryder around wasn’t as horrific as she’d imagined, Claire decided an hour later as she wrapped up an initial consult with new clients looking to organize a late-summer wedding. He hadn’t gotten in her way, or scoffed over her new clients’ dream wedding—a Southfork Ranch ceremony that would be the exact recreation of Lucy’s wedding on the old 80s TV show,
Dallas
. Nor had he made any smartass
run for it
comments as she’d half-feared he would when the groom had wanted a detailed explanation of the ceremony cancellation fee. Instead, Ryder had wandered away to disappear into the myriad display rooms she had in back that housed the portrait gallery and studio a photographer sublet from her, floral arrangements and a small boutique of her own designs.

When the happy couple finally left with a packet of information in hand and their signatures drying on the contract, Claire left Mari to tackle the booking of Southfork Ranch in Dallas while she went in search of Ryder. Her acrobatic heart twisted itself into a pretzel when she found him in the display room appropriately named Wedding Night, a richly carpeted room decorated in crimson red and displaying her more intimate lingerie collection.

Naturally. Where else would a man like Ryder be?

“I wasn’t kidding when I said you’ll need running shoes to keep up with me,” she said, doing her best to sound unaffected as he idly browsed through the delicate wisps of silk and lace. “Mari and I have to be downtown in half an hour, so if you’re still intent on tagging along…”

“‘Claire’s Creations’,” he read off the label. Selecting a barely there chiffon baby-doll, bra and thong set, he held it up. “Your designs?”

“Of course. French lace,” she added, coming closer to run her fingers down the fragile detailing. “Thai silk in every conceivable color. If you’re looking for polyester, you won’t find it here. Do you like it?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” Putting the set back on the rack, he turned his attention to a zebra-striped demi-bra. “But I am surprised. Don’t you find this a little hypocritical?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, this whole room is dedicated to one thing and one thing only—sex.” His gaze flicked unexpectedly to her, and she found herself held hostage by that one smoldering look. “And not just any kind of sex. It’s dedicated to the no-sheets and lights-on, falling-off-the-bed-and-onto-the-floor, hot-and-sweaty-grinding sex, Claire.
That’s
what’s in this room. Yet last night you tried to spin it like sex wasn’t important when it came to the lifetime commitment of marriage.”

“Your mind works in mysterious ways.” Claire congratulated herself for sounding unmoved when his words painted a thoroughly inappropriate—but utterly delightful—mental image of them together, two sweat-slick bodies straining hard against each other as they drove in mindless harmony toward the heady rush of ecstasy… She sucked in a sharp breath and tried to remember what it was to be a professional. “I never once said sex wasn’t important.”

His light eyes darkened. Burned. “You implied it.”

“Like I’ve pointed out before, you don’t really know women. And you definitely don’t know me.”

“Convince me, then.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, the swell of her breasts, before slowly sliding back up. And every place he looked, she felt the delicious heat of ravishment. “Convince me you believe sex is important.”

Damn him for toying with her, she thought with uncharacteristic savagery. And damn her for not being able to just leave well enough alone.

“Sex,” she gritted from between clenched teeth, all the while wrestling with the sense that he was playing her like a violin, “is vital to a healthy marriage, as is chemistry, imagination, seduction, trust and love. When you combine sex with those components, not even a dozen lifetimes together would burn that passion out.”

“You think?” As if he were only vaguely paying attention, he turned to an open antique armoire displaying chocolates from her new chocolatier, including jars of edible body paint. “Have you ever been married, Claire?”

“No. But when I do find the right man we’ll be together forever.”

“There is no such thing as forever.”

“Then I’ll make him wish there were,” she shot back, suddenly and irrationally furious Ryder would never be the sort of man she dreamed of. “When I find the man who’s destined to be my husband you can be damn sure he’ll know just how lucky he is to have me by his side during the day and warming his bed at night. When he needs someone to talk to, I’ll listen and I’ll support no matter what. When he feels like the world is closing in, I will be his safe harbor. When he needs someone to hold, I’ll be no more than an arm’s reach away. I’ll be his best friend and closest confidante, and when it comes to sex, just look around you,” she invited with an angry sweep of her hand. “Every last detail in this room came from the most intimate side of who I really am, so I’ll let you judge if the man I choose would be happy to spend
forever
with me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to get back to. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

“Not so fast.” Before she had taken one step, his fingers were around her wrist like a living shackle. She didn’t have to tug against it to know it was unbreakable. “You can’t just leave after saying I can do whatever I want.”

Confusion brought her brows together before her eyes widened. “Ryder—”

“You’ve never said my name before today,” he went on, talking over her until she stopped. Lifting his free hand, he traced a slow, exploring finger along the edge of her lower lip before coming to rest at the corner of her mouth. “I can’t believe how much I like to hear it coming from your lips. Say my name, Claire.”

How could this horribly incompatible man melt her from the inside out? Where in the world was her backbone? “I’m too busy for this.”

“That’s not my name.” He bent to where his finger rested, replacing it with the alluring brush of his lips, a butterfly-light touch that made her turn toward him on instinct. But his mouth slid away like a dream, gliding a gentle caress along the smooth warmth of her cheek, all the way to her ear. “Say it.”

The voice of caution whispered through her even as her traitorous bones threatened imminent meltdown. She should step away while she could still think, she knew that. Ryder Price was a fabulous male specimen, the kind of man who could trip the trigger of any female with a pulse. But in no conceivable way was he her type. He would
never
be her type, and to mess with him now was stupid. It was masochistic and pointless. It was…it was…

Delicious.

But really, she had to step away from him. And she would.

Any minute now.

“Claire.” Teasing, as light as a whisper, his lips feathered over her ear before they closed on the lobe, the wet suction of his mouth so delightful it made her eyes drift shut. “Say my name. Say it, or I’ll make you say it.”

Step away. Step away.

His tongue toyed with the lobe held with exquisite gentleness between his teeth before he moved on, his mouth sliding farther down her neck. Her breath caught in the heavy stillness, a fractured sound of arousal she had no hope of containing. A faint tremor shook him in response, and his teeth sank into the throbbing cord at her neck, his tongue drawing hungry little whorls over her heated flesh.

Step…

At some point he had let her wrist go. Claire never noticed, instead bracing her hands on his slim hips as her knees liquefied like warm honey. Her breasts brushed against his muscle-padded torso, and the contact was like being stroked with a live wire. She shivered, a soundless breath escaping her even as she rubbed against him once more to revel in the exquisite tightening of her nipples.

Closer.

A Forever Kind of Guy

Barbara Meyers

Is he the real deal, or just another regret waiting to happen?

First on Hayley Christopher’s list to get her train-wreck life back on track: stay away from men. Especially the ones who cause a ripple effect of bad decisions.
 

Still reeling from a high-profile divorce, the college dropout and former pro cheerleader is stumbling through yet another challenge—temporary custody of her nephew, Fletcher. No one knows better than Hayley that she’s not mother material. When she opens the door to her new landlord and old flame, she wonders just how many more past mistakes she is destined to pay for.

After the death of his wife, Ray Braddock is still putting the pieces back together. Hayley—and the silent little boy at her side—both bristle with emotional barriers so high, it appears no one but him can see that together, three broken people just might make a whole family.

As she watches Fletcher respond to Ray’s patient care, Hayley’s determination to hold on to her heart begins to soften. But just when she begins to think that Ray is one opportunity she shouldn’t let slip by, Fletcher’s gang-connected father threatens to make her pay for the one good choice she ever made…

Warning: Touches on issues of death, child abandonment, neglectful parenting. Sensuous love scenes.

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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.

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A Forever Kind of Guy

Copyright © 2011 by Barbara Meyers

ISBN: 978-1-60928-678-1

Edited by Sue Ellen Gower

Cover by Valerie Tibbs

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.