Bare Naked: Naked Cowboys, Book 4 (14 page)

BOOK: Bare Naked: Naked Cowboys, Book 4
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“Well, that’s what he did. Gave me the keys and took off with my mother in their camper for parts unknown.”

“Just like that?” The sheriff frowned. “It’s really none of my business, but shouldn’t you know something about running a paper before taking it over?”

What a smartass.

“I know a lot about it,” she snapped. “I grew up with that newspaper and I’ve spent ten years in New York learning even more. I assure you, the
Herald
is in good hands. And you’re right, it isn’t any of your business. As long as I get the facts right you have nothing to complain about.”

Holy cow, Jinx! Back off a little. Why are you letting this guy push your buttons?

Maybe because I had instant lust the minute I saw him? I can’t afford that. Not now. Not again. Not ever.

“Glad to hear it.” She watched his eyes as he took note of the way she was crowding the tape roping off the area. “I’m sure in New York you also learned you can’t go tramping around crime scenes.”

Jinx pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It wouldn’t do any good to get this man angry at her right off the bat. The publisher of the newspaper was supposed to cultivate goodwill with the locals, not tromp all over it. She’d have to get back to the less-than-frantic ambience of the area all over again.

“You’re right. And I’m not—what did you call it?—tramping around your crime scene.” She tried on a smile. “Just trying to get the facts to report them to my readers. I, um, had them hold the paper so I could get this on the front page of this week’s edition.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I don’t much care for reporters.”

She wanted to smack him. “Well, we should get along just fine since I don’t much care for cops.”

“Fine.” He ground out the word between clenched teeth.

“Fine.” She could be as abrupt as he was. “I’m so glad we understand each other.”

For a long moment he said nothing, just studied her as if she were an alien who had suddenly appeared from outer space. Then he glanced at the three-ring circus taking place along the roadside with the same frown of annoyance.

“Don’t people have anything else to do around here?”

She took in the scene again and couldn’t hold back the laugh. “They’re just curious. You’ll have to get used to it if you plan on staying around. This is the biggest thing to happen around here in the last century.”

“They can be all the curious they want,” he told her, “as long as they don’t get in my way and mess things up.”

She tilted her head, giving him a quizzical look. “Is that meant for me too?”

Two weeks on a beach can deepen more than just their tans.

 

Texas Fandango

© 2014 Cynthia D’Alba

 

Texas Montgomery Mavericks, Book 3

KC Montgomery was eleven when she met the love of her life. Of course, seventeen-year-old Drake Gentry didn’t know she existed, but that didn’t stop her girlish fantasies from growing and changing over the years.

Now, after enjoying a front-row seat to his breakup with his latest girlfriend, she’s been handed an all-grown-up fantasy come true—two weeks at the Sand Castle Resort. With him.

Drake most definitely noticed KC a long time ago, but the timing’s never been right. Now that he’s facing a lonely vacation that was supposed to be for two, it seems only natural to accept KC’s offer to fill in. And as far as her terms go… No strings. No expectations. No holds barred. Drake is no fool—he’s all over it.

But once they’re back in Texas there are invisible strings still hanging between them. Strings labeled attraction, affection…even love. And the more they try to untangle the knots, the tighter they’re bound together.

Warning: Beware of sunburns, whirlpool sex and sand in delicate places.

 

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Texas Fandango:

This woman…this beautiful woman had a thing
for him
?

His circulatory system shunted all his blood to his groin, which swelled with interest and desire.

“Drake? What are you doing here?” she repeated.

For an additional second, he reconsidered why he’d come. What if Leo had been wrong? Crap. What if he made a total fool of himself?

He cleared his throat. “Do you have a minute? I thought we could talk.”

She picked up the wiggling dog and cocked her head. “About what? You pretty much made your position clear at Leo’s.”

He walked down the porch steps to where she stood on her walkway. “Yeah, about that. I need to apologize.” He tapped the side of his head. “Brain fog.”

“Great,” she said with fake enthusiasm. “Apology accepted.” She swept past him and climbed onto her porch.

“Wait.” He followed her. “What’s his name?” he asked, stroking her dog’s head.

The puppy squirmed in her arms. Drake leaned over and the animal licked his nose.


Her
name is Killer,” KC said.

“Can I?” Drake held out his hands to take the puppy.

KC passed her over.

“Killer? Why, this little lady doesn’t look like a killer.” He nuzzled the dog’s fur. The puppy darted her pink tongue out and tickled his face with tiny licks.

“You’re just lucky I don’t give the command to kill. She’d rip your lips right off your face.”

He chuckled. “You mean lick my lips right off my face, right?”

She sighed and opened her door. “C’mon in, I guess. If you insist.”

Killer—Drake had serious doubts that was the dog’s real name—and he followed KC into the house. They stood in the foyer as she unclipped the dog’s leash.

“You don’t have to hold her. She’s done her business outside so she can run around.”

He set the tiny bundle on the floor. “What breed is she?”

“Yorkie. She turned six months old last week. Want something to drink?”

“Just water. I’ve had my beer quota for today.” They turned to the right and he followed her into a large, bright kitchen.

“I haven’t.” She pulled a bottle of beer and a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

“Nice place,” he said, taking the water and allowing his gaze to roam. The hardwood floor from the entry continued here. The dark gold and black granite countertops were set off by the glossy white of the cabinets. The black appliances complimented the black swirl in the granite.

The area behind the sink opened up on the dining room just beyond it. Through that large opening, there was an expansive view of a golf fairway.

She shrugged at his comment. “Let’s go to the living room and you can tell me really why you’re here.”

He followed her through the adjacent dining room and then down three steps to a sunken living room. The room had a back circular wall comprised completely of glass, providing the view of the golf course he’d admired from the kitchen. He realized that the sunken room kept the incredible view available to anyone in the kitchen or the dining room.

She dropped into a plush off-white leather recliner. Killer—that just couldn’t be this dog’s name—followed them, her nails clicking faintly on the hardwood. As soon as KC sat, the puppy stood on her hind legs to be picked up, which KC did. She stroked the dog’s head, sat back and waited.

A large, butter-yellow overstuffed leather sofa beckoned to him. He sat and took a large gulp of water. First to dilute the beer floating around in his gut. Second, to put some moisture in his mouth and down his throat, both of which had turned to dust the minute he saw KC standing on her walk. And third, to buy him some time as he tried to find the words he wanted to say.

KC waved her hand in a get-on-with-it gesture. He nodded.

“Leo said—”

“Oh God. Leo sent you here?” she snarled. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Don’t kill him yet. He sort of knocked me upside the head and rattled my brain enough that what you said this afternoon finally sank through my thick skull. You really want to go with me to the Sand Castle?”

She dropped her head against the headrest. “Great. Just freaking great. You have rattled brains, and because of that you’ve come to see me.”

He laughed. “Not exactly.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His movement caught the attention of the puppy, who jumped down and ran over to him. The ball of furry energy danced around his feet and Drake picked her up. If she weighed a pound, he’d be shocked. The puppy wiggled and climbed up to his face, again smearing it with her puppy tongue.

“Traitor,” KC said.

“Me or Killer? And what is her name? It isn’t Killer.” He nuzzled his nose on the puppy’s head. “This baby isn’t a killer of anything.”

“Ha! You haven’t seen the heel of my leather boot.”

He grinned.

“Her name is Jasmine. I call her Jazz.”

At the mention of her name, the puppy’s head snapped toward her owner and she immediately began struggling to get down. Drake set Jazz on the floor and she scurried to KC, who shook her head and picked her up.

“She’s rotten,” she said, but there was no fire behind her words.

Drake leaned back on the sofa and crossed an ankle over a knee. “Okay, as I was saying, do you want to go with me on vacation? You sort of caught me off-guard this afternoon, and I’m sorry for being so slow on the uptake. I’d love for you to come with me.” He drained the remaining water and set the empty bottle on the side table. “But you need to know that I reserved a one-bedroom suite. I’ll sleep on the couch, you don’t have to worry. You can have the bed.”

KC set the puppy down and leaned forward. “You’re asking me to go with you on vacation?”

“Yep. My treat.”

“And you’re not going to make me sleep with you?”

He shrugged and made himself maintain eye contact when what he wanted to do was look anywhere but at her. Damn. Her voice was a little tight and high with that last question. Now what had he done wrong? He didn’t think he’d ever understand women.

“Right.” He dragged the word out. “No obligation.”

She drained her beer. The empty bottle dangled from the tips of her fingers. The side of her cheek sucked as she rolled it between her teeth.

“So no sex. That’s what you’re saying? I just want to make sure there are no misunderstandings this time.”

He nodded. “Sure.”

She echoed his nod and then set her bottle on the floor. “Well then, in that case, no.”

His head popped back. “What?”

Leaning toward him, she said, “No sex, no trip.”

This time, he swallowed hard. Crossed and uncrossed his legs. Adjusted his position on the sofa. “Explain exactly what you’re saying. Use small words and short sentences. I don’t think my mind is hearing correctly this afternoon.”

“Here’s the deal, Doc. I want a vacation with the five S’s. Sand. Surf. Sun. Spa. And sex.” She leaned back in her chair. “And not necessarily in that order.”

“So you
want
to sleep with me?”

“I want a two-week torrid, scorching-hot affair. No holds barred. Then, we walk away. No harm. No foul. Those are my terms.” She stared into his eyes. “Take it or leave it.”

Bare Naked

 

 

 

Desiree Holt

 

 

 

 

She’s burned out and he’s down and out, but together they might light up the night.

 

Naked Cowboys, Book 4

Georgie Zielinski’s success in the hospitality industry comes to an abrupt end when her new boss says she needs to put out or get out. So Georgie gets out, investing her savings and 401k in a dilapidated B&B in Saddle Wells, Texas. Hiring help isn’t high on her to-do list, but when a rough-around-the-edges cowboy offers his handyman services, she listens to her gut and takes him on.

Cade Hannigan would eat humble pie all day if he could afford it. The silver spoon he was born with is tarnished and he’s down to the clothes on his back, a beat-up truck and a reputation so bad no one in three counties will hire him. Except a newcomer like Georgie.

As they work to bring the old B&B back to life, Georgie and Cade’s connection explodes into a wild ride of passion. But when Cade’s past comes back to slap him in the face, their chance to be together starts to disappear like smoke.

 

Warning: Contains a bad boy hammering out a new future, a good girl not afraid to get a little dirty—okay a lot dirty—and and a whole new definition for “sweat equity”.

eBooks are
not
transferable.

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

 

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.

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