Drive Me Crazy (29 page)

“I’m flattered, really. But there’s no room in my life for what you’re offering. I’m focused on my career. I work over a hundred hours a week.”

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Why would you do that?”

“To be the youngest store manager in Mendelssohn’s history.” She picked up her fork again, smug satisfaction lighting her face.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

“And how old was the youngest store manager?”

“My grandmother was twenty-eight when she got her first store.”

So she was trying to follow a family tradition. Still, that was no excuse. “Aren’t you worried about burnout? Exhaustion?”

“I manage my time very efficiently. I try not to waste a moment.” She returned to her food, obviously not wanting to waste a nanosecond debating the issue with him.

What she needed was someone to show her there was more to life than work, breaking records, living up to someone else’s expectations. That living life in fast forward meant missing all the good parts.

What she needed was
him
.

He ate carefully, watching her every move. Planning how he’d launch his sensual strike on her. There was so much more to life, so many wonderful things he could teach her to enjoy. And exotic food was just the beginning.

But it was a start.

“You have to eat.” He set his fork next to his empty plate.

“I couldn’t have another bite.” She pushed her plate away, a satiated grin playing at her lips.

“No, I meant dinner tomorrow. If you really do make the most of every moment, then you can find a way to work us into your agenda.” Pulling his wallet from his back pocket, he dropped some bills on the table and found his feet.

“I thought I was paying,” she said, reaching for her purse.

“Then it wouldn’t be a date.” He took her hand and pulled her up beside him. With her body flush against his, a feverish awareness heated his blood. How he wanted to take advantage of the situation. But he knew if he moved too fast, it would be the last he ever saw of Breeze Cohen.

“This is not a date.” Her statement made him grin. Keeping her hand in his, he led her out of the restaurant and back to her car.

“It is a date, Breeze.” He backed her up to her side of the car, stepping closer so she couldn’t duck away.

“No, it’s not.” A hint of laughter danced in her eyes.

“Then why am I doing this?” He ran his finger along her jawbone and her breath hitched as he tipped her chin up. Her eyes darkened to a cobalt blue as he neared, long lashes fluttering closed as he lowered his mouth over hers.

All her resistance evaporated. In the kiss he only tasted intuitive surrender. She melted into him just as she had when she’d fallen into his arms that morning. Wholly and without the slightest reservation.

His lips glided softly against hers, gently coaxing her into far more forbidden territory. He threaded his hand into her thick curls and slanted her mouth more securely against his.

Her purse dropped to the ground with a distant thud and her hands reached for him. One hand rested on the arm he had braced against the car door. The other moved between them. She touched his chest tentatively with her fingertips, her palm, then flattened against him. Logan felt the imprint of her splayed hand through the thin fabric of his shirt as if she’d branded him without ever touching his skin.

A breathy moan parted her lips, opening her to him. He dipped inside, tasting her, drowning in a softness that seemed to go on forever. Knowing this was as far as she’d let things go, he took his time. Sampling, learning, enjoying.

Greed and lust had him stepping closer still, pressing the length of her body against his, and she froze, stiffening beneath his hands. Sensing her doubts, he drew his mouth away but couldn’t bring himself to lose contact yet. He brushed his thumbs along her jaw and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Dinner, tomorrow.”

“Logan.” She frowned, her finger tracing her slick bottom lip. “I don’t think—”

“Breeze, if I have to kiss you again to convince you I’m not sure I can stop there.”

She nodded. “Dinner. Tomorrow.”

Their love never died, but her secrets could break his trust beyond repair.

Texas Two Step

© 2012 Cynthia D’Alba

Texas Montgomery Mavericks, Book 1

After six years and too much self-recrimination, rancher Mitch Landry is ready to admit he was wrong. He’d loved Olivia Montgomery but commitment wasn’t high on his list back then. That was his first mistake. He’s just divorced his second, and he’s set to do whatever it takes to convince Olivia to give him another try.

Through hard work, determination and more than a few tears, Olivia survived the break-up with Mitch. She’s rebuilt her life around her business and the son she loves more than life itself. She’s not proud of the mistakes she’s made—particularly the secrets she’s kept—but when life hands you manure, you use it to make something better of yourself…lest you get stuck in it.

At a hot, muggy Dallas wedding, they reconnect. Olivia’s first instinct is to play it cool, but after one devastating kiss things flare real out of control, real fast. Maybe a quick roll in the hay will get him out of her system once and for all. Funny thing about hay though, once it’s tangled in your hair, getting it out risks revealing things that were never meant to see the light of day. Warning: Bourbon shooters, shirtless cowboys, and a hot rendezvous or two…

Warning: Contains hot sex, a vindictive ex-wife and hot chocolate-chip cookies.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Texas Two Step:

He kissed her and the world stopped revolving. She swayed into him. Ran her fingers into his thick, wavy hair. Stroked his tongue with hers. Tasted the champagne inside of his mouth. Sucked gently on his tongue. Soaked him up like an arid desert in an unexpected rainstorm.

Olivia could have blamed the dim lights, or the romantic setting, or even Mitch’s raw animal magnetism for her response to his kiss. Instead, she admitted she wanted this night, this man, his touch, his kiss. All of her fantasies started this way.

Could reality be as good as her imagination?

What would it be like to be with him again? Make love with him again?

There was curiosity, but that wasn’t what was driving her response to his kiss. Desire ran rampant through her veins. A soul-deep lust consumed her.

Their love story was history, so she’d waste no time planning a future that would never come. She’d take what he offered, take what she wanted. Here and now, not a future. Tonight was all there was. She’d not walk away from his arms until she’d gotten what she needed.

Mitch’s mouth scorched her lips as he took her mouth with a rough passion that left no doubt of his intentions. He pulled the pins holding her chignon and threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her head in place as he plundered her mouth with his tongue.

Returning his kiss with a fervor matching his, she allowed the all-consuming yearning to fill her. The desire to touch him, be close to him, make love with him overwhelmed her.

She flattened her hands against his chest. His heat seared through the shirt’s material and burned into her flesh. She stroked hard muscles sculpted from years of physical labor. His nipples stiffened to her caress. The soft cotton of his shirt teased the nerve endings in her palms.

He leaned his huge body over her and cupped her breast in his work-roughened hand. He squeezed and flicked her now distended nipple.

Ripples of sexual longing echoed through her. She moaned into his mouth and, arching her back, pressed her breast firmly into his palm, wordlessly begging for more.

Mitch gave her what she wanted, fondling and stroking her breasts until she wanted to rip her clothes off. She groaned, burning with a frantic desperation to feel skin against skin.

Olivia slipped the buttons on his shirt through the holes with ease. She separated the shirt’s edges until she could feel the crinkle of his chest hair and the direct hot flesh of his chest beneath her hands.

The tantalizing scent of Mitch filled her nose. She’d probably smelled the same cologne on other men, but the cologne’s interaction with Mitch’s body chemistry produced a bouquet unlike any other on Earth. She lowered her head to his chest, first kissing then flicking her tongue on his turgid nipple before wrapping her lips around it. His skin was a dichotomy. Sweet and salty. Dangerous and comforting. Past and present.

There’d be no turning back for her now. She’d had a sample of her addiction, and she had to have more.

When she sucked his nipple between her lips, he groaned and slid his hand under the hem of her dress. Her abdominal muscles danced and jerked when his thick fingers touched her inner thigh.

He stroked fingers along the inside of her thigh, the silk of her stockings tickling and enflaming her flesh at the same time. “Your silk stockings drive me wild,” he said, nibbling along her chin. “Your skin was always silky and smooth. I love to touch you. I’ve always loved to touch you. I loved the way you moaned and twisted at my touch. The way your eyes would glaze over when I stroked you.” His hand moved higher, stopping at the top of the stocking. “But tonight, I want—no, need—to see you in these stockings. These stockings, my necklace and nothing else.” His voice was coarse and guttural and harsh.

Olivia quivered at his words. Emotional fires she’d suppressed since finding out she was pregnant with Adam flared. She’d believed them stomped out and dead. She’d been wrong. She was dry tinder to his lit match.

He stood, took her hand, pulled her to standing.

Her legs were weak and rubbery, threatening to collapse under his relentless assault.

Gazing intensely into her eyes, he said, “I want you. I want to be deep inside you. If you want to stop, say it now, because in a minute I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

He waited. Gave her time to say no. Gave her time for rationality to return.

But she didn’t want rational thoughts. Didn’t want to think about tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. Didn’t want to let go of all the sensations surging through her.

She’d made up her mind when she’d unbuttoned the first button on his shirt. For her, there was no going back.

She shook her head. “Don’t stop. Please.”

Drive Me Crazy

Jenna Bayley-Burke

The quickest way to love isn’t always a straight line.

This was supposed to be Xavier Moreau’s long-awaited vacation. A few precious weeks away from his over-scheduled career to see the America his mother loved and still make it to his best friend’s wedding in time. Instead, he’s ferrying the bridezilla’s sister to the nuptials. The luscious Jaime Cruz makes his mouth water, but her near-frenzy to get to Oregon
now
would scrape on his last nerve—if he didn’t sense that she needs the break as much as he does.

Fresh off a teaching assignment in D.C., Jaime’s white-knuckling it. She’s got only three weeks to get home, find a job and a place to live, and ensure her sister’s big day comes off without a hitch. Except Xavier tosses her three-days-or-bust itinerary out the window. Even more annoying, Jaime finds herself succumbing to his relentless determination to make sure she enjoys every minute of the trip. And falling under the spell of his sizzling touch.

Three weeks and three thousand miles later, Jaime’s feet are on home ground, but her heart is pulling her in a completely unexpected direction. Toward Xavier and a new journey that will require the ultimate leap of faith.

Warning: Caution! Dangerous curves ahead. Do not enter if you might be spooked by haunted hotels, embarrassed by sex in the great outdoors, or fear you might yield to a devastating Frenchman willing to drive you to distraction.

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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.

11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B

Cincinnati OH 45249

Drive Me Crazy

Copyright © 2012 by Jenna Bayley-Burke

ISBN: 978-1-61921-082-0

Edited by Heidi Moore

Cover by Scott Carpenter

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.