Rocky Mountain Angel (33 page)
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Nothing comes easy. You’ve gotta work for it.
Rocky Mountain Desire
© 2012 Vivian Arend
Six Pack Ranch, Book 3
Matt Coleman always figured at this point in his life, he’d be settled down with a family. Since his ex split for the big city, though, no way will he give anyone else the chance to drop-kick his heart. Physical pleasure? Hell, yeah, he’ll take—and give—with gusto, but nothing more.
Hope Meridan is working long hours to hold on to her new quilt shop, going it alone since her sister/business partner ran off. Sex? Right, like she’s got the time. Not that she doesn’t have the occasional dirty fantasy about Matt. Fat chance he’d dream of knocking boots with her—the younger sister of the woman who dumped him. Nope, she’ll just have to settle for the F-word.
Friends
would be far easier if there wasn’t something combustible going on between them. And when casual interest starts to grow into something more, their tenuous bond strengthens in the heat of desire. But it may not survive the hurricane-force arrival of the last person either of them ever wanted to see again…
Warning: Small-town rivals, men in pursuit and family meddling—in good and bad ways. Look for a cowboy who knows how to rope, ride and rein in a hell of a lot more than eight seconds of sheer bliss.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Rocky Mountain Desire:
“What are you doing?” He paced the store, and she followed, dragging her gaze off his ass just in time as he spun around, wide smile beaming down.
“Just checking out the place. You’ve got some neat stuff in here. I mean, I already knew you had quilts, but there’s a lot of different projects.”
“Anytime you want to take up sewing…”
He leaned a hip on the cutting table, and the broad surface slid away from him. Matt stood rapidly as she grabbed for the edge and rebalanced it.
“Shit, sorry about that. I usually stand in the middle and brace it with my knee when I cut.”
He held out a hand. “I can fix that for you.”
Suspicion snuck over her. She turned and examined the bucket he’d had in his hands. The one he’d placed on the floor that she’d ignored while distracted by all the rest of him. It was filled with hammers and screwdrivers and other tools. “Matt, what are you doing here?”
He glanced around, feet shuffling in place like a naughty kid caught in the act. “Just thought I might offer you a hand. You know, brace the table, adjust shelves, anything that you need help with.”
“And you would do this because…?”
“I want to?”
Yeah, right. “Sure. You got up this morning and decided ‘I have nothing better to do today. I should volunteer my services to Hope.’ Is that it?”
Matt shrugged. “Well, I had a coffee first, but then yeah, that was pretty much what happened.”
Hope laughed. “Aren’t you a shitty liar? Don’t worry, you don’t have to feel guilty about anything getting ruined when I went off the road. I got everything back and most of it survived the adventure. It’s good, and frankly? Being saved from that ditch—you were right. It was just stuff and neither of our lives was worth risking. Please, put your guilt aside.”
The door opened, the bell ringing sweetly through the shop. This time it was a customer, so Hope waved farewell at Matt and went to help the woman.
Only, he didn’t leave, or not for good. At one point he headed out the door and she thought the strange visit was over, but before long he was back, coat once again on the hook, light tapping noises coming from the cutting area where he popped up and down like a broken jack-in-the-box. The entire time she pulled embroidery floss from the cupboard and helped her customer gather items for a project, he was there in the background. After the third time she’d forgotten what number thread she was going for, she steadfastly ignored him.
A few more people wandered in, and Hope got busy serving and chatting with the ladies, admiring projects and pictures of completed gifts they’d already mailed off to relatives for the holiday season.
It was over an hour later before she realized she was alone with him in the shop. It was obvious, no matter what she said, he was going to do whatever he pleased.
She wasn’t sure if that pissed her off or if she liked his stubbornness.
After filling a mug with coffee, she brought it over and placed it in front of him. “If you’re planning on staying much longer, you should know I will drape a display quilt over your back.”
Matt stood, pausing to brush his palms against his thighs before picking up the coffee and taking a long swallow. He closed his eyes as he hummed in approval, and she allowed herself one brief fantasy of kissing her way across his firm jawline, tasting his lips.
She snapped her gaze back up to meet his, attempting her most innocent expression possible.
He was grinning. “Am I in your way?”
She shrugged. “Not really, but I still don’t understand what you’re up to. Go home, Matt. If you don’t have chores to do, you certainly don’t need to waste a day off in my shop.”
He moved aside a basket full of patterns for Christmas ornaments and sat on the stool he’d cleared. “Yes, I’ve got some time off today, but I don’t consider it a waste to spend it here.”
Bloody fool. “What the hell is going on? Just tell me.”
“I want to help you.”
“I didn’t ask for help.”
“But you said we were going to be friends.”
Hope opened her mouth to respond and nothing came out.
Friends.
The night she’d offered that word to him rushed back. Her brain flooded with too many erotic images. Him stripping down, his cock tenting the front of his boxers. She might have had her eyes open a tiny crack as he stripped, and her penance was that now she had a good idea exactly what size equipment he was packing.
The sight of him, the feel of his hard body underneath hers in the tub—all of it rendered her speechless to respond.
Friends?
Good Lord. She was going to die right there in the shop.
To win her heart, he’ll have to touch off her internal combustion.
Overdrive
© 2012 Chloe Cole
Even after ten long years, Frankie Sepkaski’s success as the best vintage car mechanic around still hasn’t overcome her teenage rep as a promiscuous troublemaker. No matter how tempting the prospect, the last thing Mac Galbraith needs is for her to take him out for a spin. Especially since his family thinks he should be looking for a prospective wife among the local socialites, not slumming with a grease monkey.
Mac likes vintage rides, but buying a new one every month just to have an excuse to see his ridiculously sexy mechanic in her overalls? That’s pathetic. When she finally says yes to his date offer, he’s not fooled. It’s only because she has every intention of using him to indulge her fantasies—then walking away. But Mac knows something else: underneath her bad-girl persona is a woman worth her weight in lug nuts.
It might take a crowbar to get her to admit she has feelings for him, but he plans to put the pedal to the metal to convince her to keep him around for more than just a test drive.
Warning: Sweaty, down-and-dirty sex between a mechanic and her best client. Read at your own risk. Dangerous curves lie ahead, and these roads are slippery when wet.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Overdrive:
The line went quiet again, save for their echoing breaths. She should probably hang up.
“I don’t want to hang up yet,” Mac said, the reluctant honesty in his tone encouraging her to be honest in return.
“Me either.”
“What do you want, Frankie?”
What did she want?
She shoved aside all the doubts and self-recriminations and spoke the truth. “To listen to you talk. Your voice is so…”
“So…?” he urged.
Her heart pounded, and she closed her eyes. “Sexy. Your voice is so goddamn sexy.”
“I’m glad that you think so. And what would you like me to talk about?”
She squirmed, a familiar pressure spreading low in her belly. How to answer that loaded question? Mac had offered her the chance to explore a world she’d denied herself for so long. If she was going to do it, she was going to do it right.
“The things we’re going to do tomorrow, maybe,” she whispered.
His breath came out in a hiss. “That’s up to you, babe. I’m at your disposal. Whatever you want, however you want it.”
His answer both excited and frustrated her. She’d been hoping he’d—
“But I can tell you what I’d like us to do,” he said softly. “What I’ve imagined doing a thousand times. Would you like that?”
“Yes.” She gripped the phone tighter and pressed her thighs together.
“First, tell me, are you in bed?”
“Uh-huh. Are you?”
“Yes. I hate to be cliché and ask what you’re wearing, so I’m going to pretend it’s a black, short, lace nightgown.”
She glanced down at her flowered boxer shorts and Bob Marley T-shirt and bit her lip. “Yeah, we’ll go with that.”
His warm chuckle sent a thrill through her, and she smiled.
“Are the lights on?” Mac asked.
“Yes.”
“Turn them off.”
She didn’t hesitate, reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp. “Okay, they’re off.”
“Mine too.”
He must have moved to settle in because she could hear the creak of the bed. The darkness of the room only intensified the intimacy of the situation.
“Do you remember the first car I brought you?”
She burst out laughing. “Um, let’s see. I think it was the Camaro, right? Is that your idea of mechanic dirty talk?” she teased.
“Nope. I only brought it up to give you a point of reference. That day your dad was out, and you came out of the garage into the office wiping your hands on a rag. Your hair was in a ponytail like usual, and you had on black overalls. They were made of some stretchy material, and they fit you like a glove. It was like some high school wet dream come to life.”
His admission made her nipples hard, and she shifted beneath the covers.
“You asked me what the problem was. I told you, and you launched into this amazing analysis of what you thought was wrong. That made me even hotter for you.” His breath grew harsh, and his voice dipped lower. “I went home and jerked off thinking about you. Pulling the zipper down with my teeth. Pushing those overalls past your breasts…your hips. Making you step out of them so I could bend you over the hood and use my knee to spread your legs apart. You’d be open, Frankie. Accessible and wet as I slid my cock into you one inch at a time. Slow. I’d go so slow, baby, even now, because I’d want to feel all of you as I went in. I’d relish the heat and the burn. I’d push and stretch you until your pussy squeezed me tight, over and over while you screamed my name.”
Frankie pressed her thighs together as his words pulsed straight to her clit. Her strained breath joined his. “W-were you in your bed when you…jerked off?” she whispered, slipping a hand down her stomach. She imagined him stroking his cock as he caressed her, feeling the silken skin of her belly and lower. Her knees parted as a hand—she groaned—connected with the hot, moist flesh exposed. Her head fell back, and she closed her eyes.
“I was in the shower. I came so fucking hard I thought I was going to pass out,” he admitted gruffly. “Can you wear those tomorrow? The overalls?”