The Phoenix
*CONFIDENTIAL*
Ranger Security Employee file #153
Name: Jay Weatherford, aka The Phoenix
Specialty: Getting out of
really
hot situations...and creating new ones!
Subject (Jay Weatherford) was nicknamed “the Phoenix” after walking out of a burning building unscathed. He’s Ranger Security’s newest recruit, and assigned to case file #8765—locating the heir to the Betterworth Chocolate fortune, Truffles (dog).
Working for the competition is Charlie Martin...and she has a grudge against Ranger Security. This could complicate the investigation. Getting under each other’s skin is one thing. Getting under each other—in the hot, sexy and naked way—is another!
The situation is heating up, and fast. Our man is fireproof.
Charlie Martin, however, is not....
Check out what
RT Book Reviews
is saying about Rhonda Nelson’s heroes in—and out of—uniform!
Letters from Home
”This highly romantic tale is filled with emotion and wonderful characters. It’s a heart-melting romance.”
The Soldier
”Wonderfully written and heart-stirring, the story flies by to the deeply satisfying ending.”
The Hell-Raiser
“
A highly entertaining story that has eccentric secondary characters, hot sex and a heartwarming romance.”
The Loner
”A highly romantic story with two heartwarming characters and a surprise ending.”
The Ranger
”Well plotted and wickedly sexy, this one’s got it all—including a completely scrumptious hero. A keeper.”
Dear Reader,
Happy New Year! I hope that 2011 was kind to you and that 2012 promises to be even better. If you’ve picked up this book, then I hope that you’ve added “read more” to your list of New Year’s resolutions. I always do and it’s one of the few resolutions that I actually keep. Alas, it’s the “diet” one that always falls by the wayside first, which is why my heroes always like a woman with a little meat on her bones. And the hero in this book is no exception.
Having been dubbed “the Phoenix” for walking out of a blazing building without so much as a blister, former army ranger Jay Weatherford has decided that it’s time to stop tempting fate and presenting himself to the world of war as a perpetual target. But when Jay is tapped to find Truffles, the wealthiest Yorkie in the southeast, he’s not altogether certain he’s made the right decision. And when scrappy, smart-mouthed Charlie Martin starts getting in his way—and under his skin—he’s absolutely certain of it.
As always, thanks so much for picking up my books! I am so very thankful for my readers and love hearing from them, so be sure to follow me on Twitter @RhondaRNelson, like me on Facebook and look for upcoming releases and news on my website, ReadRhondaNelson.com.
Happy reading!
Rhonda
Rhonda Nelson
The Phoenix
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A Waldenbooks bestselling author, two-time RITA® Award nominee and
RT Book Reviews
Reviewers’ Choice nominee,
Rhonda Nelson
writes hot romantic comedy for the Harlequin Blaze line and other Harlequin imprints. With more than twenty-five published books to her credit and many more coming down the pike, she’s thrilled with her career and enjoys dreaming up her characters and manipulating the worlds they live in. In addition to a writing career, she has a husband, two adorable kids, a black Lab and a beautiful bichon frise. She and her family make their chaotic but happy home in a small town in northern Alabama. She loves to hear from her readers, so be sure and check her out at www.readrhondanelson.com.
Books by Rhonda Nelson
HARLEQUIN BLAZE
255—THE PLAYER
277—THE SPECIALIST
283—THE MAVERICK
322—THE EX-GIRLFRIENDS’ CLUB
361—FEELING THE HEAT
400—THE LONER
412—THE HELL-RAISER
475—LETTERS FROM HOME
481—THE SOLDIER
545—THE RANGER
549—BORN ON THE 4TH OF JULY: “The Prodigal”
557—THE RENEGADE
579—IT MUST HAVE BEEN THE MISTLETOE...: “Cole for Christmas”
586—THE REBEL
594—THE WILD CARD
615—REAL MEN WEAR PLAID!
645—THE SURVIVOR
For Karley, my sweet, beautiful niece who will no doubt be as scrappy and resourceful as the heroine of this book when she grows up. Love you, Karley!
Contents
1
CHARLENE “CHARLIE” Martin had known before she walked into this interview that she didn’t have a prayer in hell of being hired by Ranger Security. She lacked a key piece of equipment—a prerequisite of sorts—that would have made her an ideal candidate for the job.
A penis.
Nevertheless, she’d had to try.
Upon seeing her, Jamie Flanagan had widened his eyes in unmitigated shock, Guy McCann had choked on his coffee, but true to his cool, unflappable reputation, Brian Payne hadn’t reacted at all. Not a single ripple on the pond of that admittedly attractive face. She studied him thoughtfully and couldn’t decide if she more envied or pitied his wife. Breaking that icy exterior undoubtedly was its own reward, but putting up the effort to do it on a regular basis had to be exhausting.
“You’re a third-generation officer, Ms. Martin, and you’ve been with the Atlanta P.D. for a long time,” Payne remarked, studying the résumé that had been thrust into his hands moments before. He looked up. “What has prompted the desire to thwart tradition?”
There were a multitude of reasons—she was sick to death of the boys’ club, the constant need to defend the few promotions she’d managed to snag since she’d come aboard six years ago, the most important of which had been her advancement to detective. She’d paid for her so-called police pedigree with snide remarks and pointed, knowing stares every time she received a pat on the back for a job well-done. Though she had a few friends and had earned the respect of the majority of her coworkers, frankly, the constant struggle to prove herself had sucked the joy out of the job for her.
When she’d decided to leave the police department, she’d made two lists. One featured the things that she liked most about the job—the actual detective work, putting the details together.
Charlie had a knack for seeing things other people didn’t see, for picking up on nuances that remained hidden to other observers. For instance, she’d noticed a tuft of cat hair clinging to Payne’s leg, indicating he had at least one pet. Guy McCann had red-rimmed eyes and had missed a tiny row of whiskers on his chin. She’d be willing to bet he had a newborn. And Jamie Flanagan… Well, the pink shimmer of lipstick on his ear meant he’d more than likely gone home for a nooner on his lunch break. A twinge of envy shot through her. She hadn’t had a nooner or any variation thereof in more than two years and the prospect of changing the current status quo was dishearteningly bleak. But now wasn’t the time to be thinking about her uninspiring, dismal sex life. She saved that for evenings in front of the TV, a carton of ice cream in her hand.
As for the second list, it had showcased her options, her ideal future employer.
Considering Ranger Security was synonymous with “the best,” it was her first choice.
A lost cause? Probably. She was neither an army Ranger nor a man, but thanks to a non-gender-specific name and Juan Carlos—their secretary—owing her a favor, she’d walked in directly off the street this morning. She’d had to—the least little bit of digging would have revealed that she was a woman and then she’d never have gotten into the “inner sanctum.”
More man cave than boardroom, the space she found herself in was littered with high-end electronics, supple leather furniture, a kitchenette, a pool table and a beautiful view of downtown Atlanta. Though she’d passed each gentleman’s office proper on the way to this room, it was clear that this was where most of their “work” was done.
As for “thwarting tradition”? She smiled. “I prefer to think of it as thwarting
expectation,
Mr. Payne.” She gazed mildly at him, silently communicating that her reasons were her own. Naturally, her family hadn’t liked her decision, but… “It’s time for a change.”
A flare of admiration sparked in his cool gaze and she lifted her chin a fraction, acknowledging the respect.
“This is quite a résumé,” Jamie Flanagan remarked. “You graduated cum laude with a degree in Criminal Justice from the University of Georgia, spent the first three years in a uniform then were rather speedily promoted to detective.” He paused, still reviewing the résumé. “Several commendations,” he reeled off, his tone even, speculative. “You teach self-defense classes at many battered women’s shelters and college campuses.”
She knew all of this, as she’d written it. Yet she nodded. “Yes. The women at the shelters are there because, typically, a man put them there.”
Bastards.
She’d had a friend once who was in an abusive relationship and it had taken years to get her away from him. The physical damage was one thing—it was the emotional turmoil that was truly insidious. “They need to know how to defend themselves.” Her lips tilted. “The college girls come for the free pizza, but it’s a good age to reach them.”