Intrusion (19 page)

For some ungodly reason he doesn't take his hand away.

Maybe he thinks if he does it will look bad, like an admission of a guilty thing that neither of us has done. Or at least that
he
hasn't done. He didn't ask to have his hand grabbed. His hand is totally innocent in all of this. My hand is the evil one. It keeps right on grasping him even after I told it to stop. I don't even care if it makes me look worse—
just let go
I think at it.

But the hand refuses.

It still has him in its evil clutches when we go inside the hotel. My fingers are starting to sweat and the guy behind the counter is noticing, yet I can't seem to do a single thing about it. Could be we have to spend the rest of our lives like this, out of sheer terror of drawing any attention to the thing I have done.

Unless he's just carrying on because he thinks I'm scared of this place. Maybe he thinks I need comfort, in which case all of this might be okay. I am just a girl with her friendly good-looking priest, getting a hotel room in a real honest and platonic way so I can wash my lank hair and secretly watch television about spaceships. 

Nothing is going to happen—a fact that I then communicate to the counter guy with my eyes. I don't know why I'm doing it, however. He doesn't know Killian is a nearly priest. He has no clue that I'm some beat-up kid who needs help and protection rather than sordid hand-holding. He probably thinks we're married just like I thought before, and the only thing that makes that idea kind of weird is how I look in comparison.

I could pass for a stripe of beige paint next to him. In here his black hair is like someone took a slice out of the night sky. His cheekbones are so big and manly I could bludgeon the counter guy with them, and I'm liable to do it. He keeps staring, even after Killian says, “Two rooms, please.” He's still staring as we go down this all-carpeted hallway, to the point where I have to ask.

“Why was he looking like that?” I whisper as Killian fits a key that is not really a key but a gosh darn credit card into a room door. So of course I'm looking at that when he answers me, and not at his face.

But I wish I had been. I wish I'd seen his expression when he speaks, because when he speaks he says the single most startling thing I've ever heard in my whole life.

“He was looking because you're lovely.”

About the Author

CHARLOTTE STEIN
is the acclaimed author of over thirty short stories, novellas, and novels, including the recently DABWAHA-nominated
Run to You
. When not writing deeply emotional and intensely sexy books, she can be found eating jelly turtles, watching terrible sitcoms, and occasionally lusting after hunks. For more on Charlotte, visit www.charlottestein.net.

Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at
hc.com
.

Give in to your impulses . . .

Read on for a sneak peek at five brand-new

e-book original tales of romance from Avon Impulse.

Available now wherever e-books are sold.

 

VARIOUS STATES OF UNDRESS: VIRGINIA

By Laura Simcox

THE GOVERNESS CLUB: LOUISA

By Ellie Macdonald

GOOD GUYS WEAR BLACK

By Lizbeth Selvig

SINFUL REWARDS 1

A
B
ILLIO
NAIRES AND
B
IKERS
N
O
VELLA

By Cynthia Sax

COVERING KENDALL

A
L
OVE AND
F
OOTBALL
N
OVEL

By Julie Brannagh

An Excerpt from

by Laura Simcox

If she had it her way, Virginia Fulton—daughter of the President of the United States—would spend more time dancing in Manhattan's nightclubs than working in its skyscrapers. But when she finds herself in the arms of sexy, persuasive Dexter Cameron, who presents her with the opportunity of a lifetime, Virginia sees it as a sign . . . but can she take it without losing her heart?

V
irginia threw her hands in the air and walked over to face him. “Come on, Dex! Be realistic. You need a
team
to fix this store. An army.”

“So hire one.” He leaned toward her. “I need you. And you need me.”

“I don't need you.” She narrowed her eyes. There was no way she was going to tell him about dumping Owlton. Not right now, anyway.

Dex slid off the desk and covered the few feet between them, frowning. “Yes, you do,” he said.

She stared at his mouth, her legs suddenly feeling wobbly. “No, I don't.” She raised her hands to his shoulders to steady herself.

“You can choose to keep telling yourself that, or you can make a move.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Move forward.”

She took a deep breath. “I don't know if I can.” The words came out raspy, and the look of irritation in Dex's eyes changed into something much more focused. He hesitated for a moment and then leaned closer. “Make a leap of faith, trust your instincts, and take the job. You'll have my full support.”

As she gazed up into his steady eyes, she was all too aware of her fear. Because of cowardice, she never acted as if she expected anyone to take her seriously—and so they didn't. It pissed her off. She didn't like being pissed, especially not at herself. Dex took her seriously, didn't he? She closed her eyes. “Okay. I'll do it.”

When she opened them, he smiled. “Great. Now . . . about moving forward?”

“Yeah?”

“Literally
moving forward would be fantastic. I never got to kiss you back, you know.”

“I . . . didn't expect you to,” she said.

“That might be, but the more I thought about your kiss last night, the more necessary kissing you back became to me. And now? I can't think about much else.”

She gripped his shoulders and gazed into his eyes. “To be honest, neither can I.”

“Please tell me we can try again. Kiss me and see what happens.” His voice was low and thick.

Virginia's legs almost gave out from under her, and a shuddering breath left her body. She should be taking a step back, not contemplating kissing him again. Her body swayed forward, and she tightened her grip on his shoulders to steady herself. Just as she closed her eyes to think, his mouth descended, hot and sweet, angling over hers and stopping a hairsbreadth from her lips.

“Mmm,” he uttered, the sound coming from deep in his throat, and it was all she needed.

She pushed up onto her toes, her fingers laced behind his neck, and she kissed him. He tasted earthy—wild, almost—and that surprising discovery sent a shock wave through her brain. She kissed him again. “More,” she murmured, even though she knew she shouldn't. His tongue invaded her mouth; he turned and, in one motion, lifted her onto the desk. Electricity sang through her body, and, as she twined her tongue with his, the idea of
shouldn't
started to become hazy. Her hands threaded through his cropped hair and she leaned back—arching her breasts toward him—wanting Dex to press her down with his body.
Please
, she whispered in her mind,
Please, Dex.

His hands ran over her hips, but he didn't move closer, so she deepened the kiss, letting her hands trail over his smooth jaw, the taut sides of his neck; then she slid her fingers around the lapels of his suit and tugged. With a groan, Dex pulled her against his chest again, his hands skimming up her back to gently tug on the blunt ends of her hair. She complied, letting her head fall back, and his hot, open mouth slid down her throat and nestled in the crook of her neck. He kissed her there, lingering.

“More,” she gasped out loud, clinging to his shoulders.

He kissed her throat again, his tongue branding a circle under her jaw. Then slowly, he pulled away. “We have to stop,” he said, looking into her eyes. “If we don't . . .” He swallowed and she watched his throat work. She hadn't gotten to kiss him there, yet. Dipping her chin, she leaned forward, but he pulled away. He gave her a sheepish smile. “I think we sealed the deal, don't you?

An Excerpt from

by Ellie Macdonald

Louisa Brockhurst is on the run—from her friends, from her family, even from her dream of independence through the Governess Club. Handsome but menacing John Taylor is a prizefighter-turned-innkeeper who is trying to make his way in society. When Louisa shows up at his doorstep, he's quick to accept her offer to help—at a price. Their attraction grows, but will headstrong, fiery Louisa ever trust the surprisingly kind John enough to tell him the dangerous secrets from her past that keep her running?

H
er eyes followed his movements as he straightened. Good Lord, but the moniker “Giant Johnny” was highly appropriate. The man was a mountain. A fleeting thought crossed her mind about what it would be like to have those large arms encompass her.

He spied her packed portmanteau and looked at her questioningly. “You are moving on? I thought your plans were unconfirmed.”

Louisa lifted her chin. “They are. But that does not mean I must stay here in order to solidify them.”

He put his thick hands on his hips, doubling his width. “But it also means that you do not have to leave in order to do so.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he stayed her with his hand. “I understand what it is like to be adrift. If you wish, you can remain here. It is clear that I need help, a woman's help.” He gestured to the room. “I have little notion and less inclination for cleaning. I need someone to take charge in this area. Will you do it?”

Louisa stared at him.
Help him by being a maid? In an inn?
Of all the things she had considered doing, working in such a place had never crossed her mind. She was not suited for such work. A governess, a companion, yes—but a maid? What would her mother have said about this? Or any of her family?

She pressed her lips together. It had been six years since she'd allowed her family to influence her, and this job would at least keep her protected from the elements. She would be able to protect herself from the more unruly patrons, she was certain. It would be hard-earned coin, to be sure, but the current condition of her moneybag would not object to whichever manner she earned more. It would indeed present the biggest challenge she had yet faced, but how hard could it be?

“What say you, Mrs. Brock?”

His voice drew her out of her thoughts. Regarding him carefully, Louisa knew better than just to accept his offer. “What sorts of benefits could I expect?”

“Proper wage, meals, and a room.” His answer was quick.

“How many meals?”

“How many does the average person eat?” he countered. “Three by my count.”

Would her stomach survive three meals of such fare? She nodded. “This room? Or a smaller one in the attic?” She had slept in her fair share of small rooms as a governess; she would fight for the biggest one she could get.

“This one is fine. This is not a busy inn, so it can be spared.” He rubbed his bald head. “My room is behind the office, so you will never be alone on the premises.”

Hm
. “I see. Free days?” Not that she expected to need them. She knew no one in the area and had no plans to inform her friends—her
former
friends—of where she was.

“Once a fortnight.”

“And my duties?”

“Cleaning, of course. Helping out in the kitchen and pub when necessary.”

“Was last night a typical crowd?” she asked.

“Yes. Local men come here regularly. There are not many places a man in this area can go.”

“And the women? I am curious.”

He shrugged his boulder shoulders. “None have yet come in here. I don't cater to their tastes.”

Louisa sniffed and glanced around the room. The condition truly was atrocious. If the other rooms were like this, it would take days of hard work to get them up to scratch. It would be an accomplishment to be proud of, if she succeeded.

Ha—
if
I succeed? I always succeed
.

She looked back at Giant Johnny, watching her with his hands on his hips, legs braced apart. She eyed him. He stood like a sportsman, sure of his ground and his strength. A sliver of awareness slipped through her at the confidence he exuded. This man was capable of many things; she was certain of it.

And if she were to agree to his offer, she would be with him every day. This mountain, this behemoth, would have authority over her as her employer. It was not the proximity to the giant that worried her; it was that last fact.

It rankled. For so long she had wished for independence, had almost achieved it with her friends and the formation of the Governess Club, only to have it collapse underneath her. And now she found herself once again having to submit to a man's authority.

It was a bitter pill to swallow. She would have to trust that she would eventually be able to turn the situation to her advantage. Nodding, she said, “I accept the position, Mr. Taylor.”

An Excerpt from

by Lizbeth Selvig

When single mom Rose Hanrahan arrives in Kennison Falls, Minnesota, as the new head librarian, she instantly clashes with hometown hero Dewey Mitchell over just about everything. But in a small town like Kennison Falls, it's tough to ignore anybody, and the more they're thrown together, the more it seems like fate has something in store for them.