Razor's Edge: Men in Blue, Book 2 (41 page)

“Fuck,” he murmured softly as he wrestled with the doorknob.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Having problems?”

“Yeah.” He finally opened the door and they went inside. He relocked the door.

He tossed his keys on a table beside the door and turned to her. Her hair, once artfully arranged atop her head earlier in the evening, lay in tumbled disarray across her shoulders. One thin strap of her red velvet gown had slipped down her shoulder. He almost groaned remembering what her nipple had felt like against his fingers. Tight. Aroused. Ready for the lash of his tongue, the sucking heat of his mouth. The curve of her bust, the smallness of her waist, and the roundness of her hips called to him on the most primitive level. Her gentle smile held questions. Her dusky eye shadow gave her eyes a mysterious allure.

His cock hardened a fraction more. He had to get inside her or die. Plain and simple. Yet the last thing he would do was frighten her. She looked too much like a woman who hadn’t committed to the next move. A woman on the threshold of deciding, of reversing the confident answer she’d given him in his car not so long ago. He burned to make love to her, but he didn’t want her hesitation and uncertainty.

He started undoing his clothes, slowly. He tossed his tux jacket on the same table where he’d placed his keys. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No. I’m good.” Her voice was gentle and soft.

She walked toward him, and to his surprise, helped him undo his shirt buttons. She stared into his eyes and he allowed her to open his shirt and bare his chest. Her eyes widened a bit, and her attention glided over his muscles. She licked her lips, and his cock throbbed.

Screw subtlety.

“If you look at me like that…” he started to say.

“What?”

“I’ll have to do this.”

He leaned down and did away with his shoes, tossing them aside. They skidded across the foyer. As she propped her back against the closed front door, he placed his hands down on either side of her about shoulder-width apart. Neena’s pupils dilated a little, and he smiled. Oh, yeah. She was still interested. But would she admit it?

“Do you…?” She swallowed hard. “Do you still want me?”

He laughed softly, and because he couldn’t stand it any longer, he drew her hand to his cock. Through the fabric he was still hard as granite. Her fingers moved under his, caressing his length.
Oh, Jesus.

Her lips parted. “I guess that was a stupid question.”

Their first kiss melted her resistance, their second one melted his heart.

Kissing Cowboy

© 2010 J.C. Wilder

She’s a woman with a plan…

From childhood, Payton ‘Pip’ Whittier has loved Jeff ‘Cowboy’ Diver. Even after he publicly humiliated her and forced her to leave town, he’s the one man she can’t erase from her heart.

Nine years have passed and Pip has returned to the scene of the crime, her hometown of Haven, Ohio. This time, she’s determined to rid her system of Cowboy, once and for all. He’s a man determined to thwart her every move…

When Cowboy sees Pip at the local bar, he’s floored by the changes in his one-time best friend. The shy, sweet girl has been replaced with a sexy-as-hell woman in red stilettos. Years ago they’d shared a tender moment, one that changed irrevocably their lives.

This is his one chance to convince her to give him one more—even if it means his heart could be crushed under her lethal high heels.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Kissing Cowboy:

Police Officer Suffocated by Mini Skirt.

Not exactly the way he wanted to end his career.

His gaze traced the length of her long, shapely legs. Wincing, Jeff shifted in his chair trying to find a more comfortable position. Payton Whittier aroused quite a few feelings in him, and none of them was remotely brotherly.

Forcing himself to look away, he stifled a groan. If her tiny skirt wasn’t up to finishing him off, he’d just discovered what would.

Cherry red.

Four-inch high.

Fuck-me heels.

Death by Stiletto, what a way to go...

Jace jerked him back to reality by punching him in the arm. “You’re doing it again.”

“Damn it, bro.” Frustrated, Jeff ran his hand through his hair. “I have no business looking at Pip that way.”

“Why not? She’s smoking hot.”

“She’s practically our little sister, and it just isn—”

“Who are you trying to fool, Cowboy?” Jace gave him a cutting look. “You were the one who got caught playing doctor with her.” He shrugged. “We’re grown up now and, let’s face it, she’s a hottie with a naughty body.”

“Watch it.”

Jace grinned, totally unrepentant. “What can I say? I like the ladies.”

“Well, you just watch which
lady
you’re going to like next,” Jeff growled. “If I catch you looking at the wrong one I’ll kick your ass.”

Feeling someone’s gaze on him, he looked up to see it was Ryan. Having spent the first nine years of his life on a reservation with his shaman grandfather, Ryan had a high level of spook factor. Jeff was pretty sure he could read minds, or at least it felt like it sometimes.

“What, Ry?”

Something dark flashed in Ryan’s black eyes then it was gone. Without a word, he rose and stalked away.

“What was that about?” Jace spoke to no one in particular.

The sound of Pip’s laughter sent a blaze of heat straight to his groin. Kent was practically wrapped around her again, staring at her breasts as if they were on the menu. Pushing him away, more forcefully this time, she spun around on one slender heel. Watching that damned skirt lift then resettle again, he exhaled. He could only hope she was wearing underwear.

His cock grew harder.

Great big, full-coverage granny panties.

Were his jeans shrinking?

Industrial grade, white with no trim.

Frustrated, he rubbed his jaw. His cock didn’t care if she wore ballistic undergarments. Putting Pip and underwear in the same sentence was enough to kick-start his libido. He glared at his crotch.

Damned fine time for you decide to come out and play.

With his crotch on fire and the overwhelming urge to punch every guy who’d spoken to her, he realized that he might have picked the wrong Whittier after all.

Cowboy was still watching her.

Picking up her cocktail, Pip drained the glass. Four years of college and five years working her way up the food chain in Chicago had done nothing to kill her unrequited lust for him. Not that she’d let him know that.

Picking up her cue, she moved into position. Miranda mentioned he seemed to have a thing for her legs. Whatever body part it was, she definitely had his attention so she might as well use it to her advantage. Pretending to concentrate on the table, she reached for the cue ball on the opposite side. Holding her breath, she prayed her skirt didn’t give up the ghost and expose her ass. Her goal accomplished, she turned away and felt a faint rumble beneath her feet.

Hopefully it was his jaw.

Moving to the head of the table, she noticed Cowboy was now standing. Damn, he seemed so much bigger…upright. Her palms grew damp. He’d always been a good-looking kid but, as a man, he was sex on a stick. With his broad shoulders and heavily muscled chest, she couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like naked. Did he have a six-pack? Twelve-pack?

Your sister would know in spades.

Pip winced. Hell, even her inner monologue was against her.

Their gazes clashed, and she felt it all the way down to her toes. Those pale blue eyes of his, so startling against his dark skin, pierced her flesh. She experienced the oddest sensation of him stripping her bare, exposing every little secret she struggled to keep hidden from the world.

She looked away, then almost immediately looked back. What she would give to know what was going on behind those unearthly eyes of his. Licking her lips, the light shifted and his eyes darkened to a fierce, stormy blue. While she’d never seen that particular look directed at her before, her body recognized its meaning.

Lust.

The muscles in her lower body loosened, lengthened, and the flesh between her thighs grew damp. Struck by the inexorable urge to go to him, Pip flexed her hand and dug her nails into her palm. The sharp little pain jerked her out of the spell he’d cast upon her. Turning away, feminine power, unlike anything she’d ever experienced, exploded in her gut.

Had a man ever watched her with such naked hunger?

Not even close.

With shaky hands she could barely focus on the layout of the table. She heard Kent say something behind her, but she didn’t care what it was. The jerk was probably looking at her ass again. She’d never liked him when he and her brother, Rand, had hung out together in school, and she liked him even less as an adult.

With a satisfying crack, the cue ball struck its target sending it into the corner pocket. Talk about luck. With Jeff watching her she couldn’t concentrate let alone play a proper game.

Coming around the table to stand directly in front of Cowboy, her body vibrated with tension. Pretending to consider the best plan of attack, she bent slightly and her rear end came into contact with something warm, hard and definitely male. She didn’t have to look to know it was him. She recognized his scent. Soap, warm skin and something musky tugged at her senses.

Turning, she noted the tightness of his jaw and his hooded gaze. With his arms crossed over his chest, he literally towered over her. Up close his eyes were darker and they burned with a heat that sent shivers straight to the apex of her thighs.

Ro was right. This wasn’t the same man she’d left. Both physically and emotionally he was harder, more remote than she’d ever seen him. Her gaze dropped to his crotch.

Make that much harder.

And, if she wasn’t mistaken, he was angry…with her.

Narrowing her eyes, she glared up at him. If anyone had the right to get pissy it certainly wasn’t him. Summoning her mother’s heavy southern accent, she drawled, “Are you lost, stranger?”

A muscle in his jaw flexed.

Boy, he didn’t like that much.

“We need to talk.” He glanced in the direction of Ro, Miranda and Sissy who watched them with unabashed interest. “Alone.”

“I’m so sorry, sugar.” Fluttering her hand, a move her mother had perfected while still in the cradle, her fingertips came to rest between her breasts. “Do I know you?”

He rocked back on his heels, and she smiled harder.

“You see, Mama wouldn’t like it if she heard I was talking to some
random
stranger in a
bar
of all places.” Slowly, she walked around him, sizing him up as if he were a side of meat. “You know, you do remind me of someone I knew long ago.”

He turned his head as if to speak, but she cut him off.

“Then again I could be mistaken.”

“For old time’s sake?”

Cowboy’s tone was so soft that only she heard him. Her stomach clenched, and her knees went weak.

Move away. Get away from him…

Then he laid his hand on her arm.

Electricity shot through her nervous system and short-circuited her brain. Every cell in her body leapt to awareness as if she’d been asleep and he was the only one who could awaken her. Shaken, all she could do was stand there and stare at where their flesh joined.

His fingers tightened on her arm. The scar across his first knuckle—she’d been there when he’d cut himself. Barely ten, she was so panicked at the sight of so much blood that she’d screamed her head off. Ryan had come running only to slap electrical tape over it and tell Jeff to get back to work. The pale scar on his wrist was her fault. While repairing the fence she’d distracted him, and the wire snapped back and caught him. He’d bawled her out only to apologize minutes later.

She’d spent countless lazy summer days watching him work with the horses. He had a limitless supply of patience with even the wildest of animals. These were the hands of a man who worked hard and played even harder. And they belonged to a man who, once upon a time, made her feel safe.

Special.

“All right,” she croaked.

Razor’s Edge

Jayne Rylon

There’s a thin line between protection and betrayal…and they’re dancing on it.

Men in Blue, Book 2

Isabella’s marriage to the wealthiest man in the state looked fairytale perfect. Only she knows the truth behind the nightmare forcing her to run with the clothes on her back, the scars on her body and no one to trust. Not even her own father.

When the man hunting her has unlimited resources, hiding in plain sight is a wise choice. Isabella basks in the protection of the limelight as an instructor on a pro-am TV dance competition. Perfect plan, except her ornery partner is packing moves she never learned in any studio.

A rookie mistake in the line of duty earned Razor months of rehab and a healthy distrust of innocent-looking women. Determined to prove to his fellow men in blue his green has worn off, he goes undercover as Isabella’s dance partner to investigate her possible involvement in a sex-slavery ring. But as he attempts to cozy up for information, their instant chemistry challenges his detached composure.

An attempt on her life should have cleared the air. Instead it muddies the waters even more, forcing them both to trust each other. And depend on the one thing Razor thought he’d lost. His instinct.

Warning: This book contains ultra-sexy young cops, who aren’t afraid to show a girl their best moves on and off the dance floor.

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