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What do you get when you combine a feisty female journalist and a former Special Forces operative? Here's a sample:
He circled her with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "You look good enough to eat," he murmured softly.
His voice reached out and drew her in. It was sippin' whiskey, it was black velvet, it was hard steel - and God help her - it was hot sex, waiting to happen. She met his eyes as he came to a stop in front of her.
A pulse throbbed in her throat and he smiled, tracing it with his fingertips as his eyes held hers. Lowering his head, his lips brushed her skin where his fingers had been, then trailed lower, lingering in the hollow of her neck. "Olivia", he whispered, raising his head. "I don't know what I'm going to do about you." His lips seemed to suggest a world of possibilities.
Olivia MacMillan wonders what she's let herself in for when she agrees to accompany Josh Morgan to the European Riviera. Josh says he wants her contacts in the casinos so he can play in exclusive, high-stakes poker games. But she soon learns that his motives are more sinister than a simple game of poker. What could make a former Special Forces operative come out of retirement for one last, kick-ass mission?
Join Olivia and Josh as they visit Monte Carlo and Marbella in search of an arms dealer, then travel with them to Josh's ranch in Montana, where the truth threatens to tear them apart.
Explicit sexual content. Some characters in this book were first introduced in Deception, the story of Alex and Justine. If you liked Fool Me Once, you're sure to enjoy Deception.
Excerpt:
Set-up:
British Journalist Olivia MacMillan is at loose ends. Her best
friend is getting married to her neighbour, and her editor has
refused her request to do a news story. She escapes the engagement
party and enters her neighbour’s peaceful greenhouse:
Olivia
walked quickly through the house, exiting by the kitchen entrance.
The large Georgian mansion was almost as familiar to her as her own
home. From this side of the house, the only sign that a party was
underway was the collection of automobiles parked around the
cul-de-sac at the front of the house.
The
familiar trail that connected Haversham Hall with her parents’ home
skirted the greenhouse. Olivia paused in the open door, breathing in
the heavy, humid air. The atmosphere wrapped around her like a
comforting shawl and she drew in a deep breath. Here in the
greenhouse, life could not be rushed. Seeds germinated and plants
bloomed in their own time; a comforting concept in today’s frantic
world. She leaned back against the potting bench and pressed slender
fingers into her temples. Watching Justine’s transparent joy when
Alex came into view, a surge of envy had washed over her and she’d
been ashamed of her thoughts. Today, for the first time, her total
involvement in her career hadn’t been enough, and she’d found
herself adrift and achingly alone. Which explained why she’d
experienced such a visceral reaction to the American. Thank goodness
she’d had the presence of mind to get out of there. The last thing
she wanted was to tangle with a man who made her think wicked
thoughts from just one glimpse. With any luck, he’d be gone by
tomorrow.
Calmer
now, she pushed away from the bench and wandered farther down the
aisle toward her favorite section. Suspended at the end of graceful
stems, orchids hung like lush tropical jewels. In her teenage years,
when Olivia first started observing Alex’s mother in the
greenhouse, she’d been too impatient to appreciate the orchids that
Daphne painstakingly cultivated. She’d preferred the
quick-flowering annuals – their showy splashes of color appealing
to her own vibrant nature. She paused to admire a white orchid,
bending closer to examine the delicate freckling at its throat.
*
* *
Josh
Morgan stood silently in the doorway of the greenhouse. Alex had
pointed it out earlier, indicating that he was welcome to visit it at
any time. It was a large building, built in the early 1900s of thick
glass and supported by a sturdy metal frame.
What
drew his attention now wasn’t the riot of plants, although he
glanced around with interest at the permanent display. No, what
interested him was the tall woman in the pale green dress, her
coppery hair glowing in a shaft of sunlight that pierced the tangle
of leaves overhead. Her back was turned, and he studied her at
leisure, his gaze lingering on a long, tanned leg, and then sliding
up over her buttocks. As she bent to examine an orchid, the fabric
clung to her slender body, revealing subtle curves that were
deliciously feminine. Her breasts, while not large, were high and
firm. His fingers tensed, his throat went dry and for the first time
since he’d arrived on English soil he began to doubt himself.
‘There’ll
be none of that,’ he told himself brusquely. The success of his
mission depended on Olivia MacMillan. He felt a twinge of guilt at
what he was about to do. But it was necessary. He hadn’t come
halfway across the world to get involved. It wasn’t in his nature
to be deceitful, but this was different. This was payback.
Shoving
those thoughts to the back of his mind he forced himself to smile. He
needed to convince her to accompany him to the Mediterranean.
*
* *
“Phaelanopsis.”
Olivia stilled. His voice was exactly as she knew it would be… deep
and resonant, with an underlying suggestion of heated sexuality. She
straightened slowly, turning to face him.
“Are
you an orchid expert?” She tilted her chin, a deliberate challenge
in her tone.
A
slow grin raised the corner of his mouth and he took a step closer.
“Busted. That’s the only one I know.” His eyes took inventory
of the plants on either side of the aisle and came back to rest on
her face. “But it is lovely.” His gaze lingered on her lips and
she turned back to the flower, wondering if he could see the pulse
pounding at the base of her throat. This was ridiculous! She didn’t
even know the man.
“I
apologize for intruding like this.” He closed the distance between
them, filling the space between the benches. With a sudden flash of
insight, Olivia knew that this was a man who could be comfortable in
any situation. Surrounded by an aura of quiet confidence, he
epitomized the alpha male, with the emphasis on male.
She
clutched at the edge of the bench, wondering briefly what had
happened to her normal composure. “You’re not intruding,” she
countered with a sideways glance. “But I think we should introduce
ourselves.” She extended her hand. “I’m Olivia MacMillan.
Justine and I are old friends.”
Her
hand disappeared in his. His grip was firm. “Josh Morgan. A friend
of Alex’s.” His hand was like the rest of him. Large and
competent.
She
looked into his eyes. They were a dark chocolate brown, shot through
with warm glints of amber. “Josh Morgan. That sounds like a name in
an American western.”
He
tipped an imaginary hat. “That’s me, ma’am. Your all-American
cowboy.”
“You’re
kidding, right?” She retrieved her hand. “You aren’t really a
cowboy.”
“Why
not?” He cocked an eyebrow. “It’s one of the most honest
professions in the world.”
“Yes,
I’m sure it is, but…” She stopped abruptly. “I’ve never met
a cowboy before.”
He
grinned. “Then you should come to my ranch some time. Although I
confess the real cowboys are the men who work my spread.” He
shrugged. “Some days the only riding I do is the chair in my
office.”
Olivia
nodded. “You have my sympathies. I’d be content if I never had to
go near an office again. It’s… I don’t know… it’s
suffocating.”
He
looked at her appraisingly. “I feel the same way. That’s what’s
so great about living on a ranch. When they coined the term ‘wide
open spaces’ I think they had Montana in mind.”
She
liked the way he spoke.
“‘Big
Sky.’” She leaned against the bench opposite him. “When I first
heard that term I envisioned skies so blue they make your eyes hurt.
Is it anything like that?”
“It’s
better.” His voice was like a caress. “Where I live, the Rockies
dominate the western sky. When the light hits them just right, it
takes your breath away.” He looked down at her. “Of course you
could explain it better. You have an amazing gift for writing about
what you see...what you feel.”
“You’ve
read my work?”
“I
just said I did.” His eyes flashed. “You don’t believe me, do
you?”
She
regarded him coolly. Too many men before him had falsely claimed to
read her work.
“Boy,
you’re tough,” he said. “Okay, let me think. I read your
article a few months ago about the inner workings of casinos. You
also wrote a very touching follow-up piece on Lockerbie and how that
air disaster has changed the community. And more recently I read the
stories about the Afghani women.” He shook his head and a subtle
change came over him. “Although when I finished reading the last
story I thought perhaps you should have called it ‘One Step
Forward, Two Steps Back’, instead of the other way around.”
“You
understood!” She smiled up at him. “Thank you for reading between
the lines.” She sobered. “It’s a strange, violent place.”
Olivia
saw a flash of pain in the dark eyes. “What was it like over
there?” he asked, his voice little more than a whisper. “Was it
rough?”
Sensing
that her reply was important, she thought for a moment. “Yes, it
was rough, but I was so involved with the story, I can’t honestly
say I noticed. The heat and the dust were unpleasant, but somehow
when you believe in what you’re doing, you forget all about
creature comforts. The most difficult thing was gaining the
confidence of the women I wrote about; getting them to talk freely.
Fortunately I had an excellent interpreter.” She smiled crookedly.
“I apologize for not believing you. It’s just that…” she
shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Come
on.” His tone was part teasing, part serious. “Don’t leave me
hanging.”
She
pretended to study a spray of orchids, gathering her thoughts. “It’s
just that I’ve met some people who pretend to have read my stuff
when in fact it’s obvious they haven’t.” She regarded him
openly. “What are you doing here, Josh?”
“Alex
invited me.”
She
waved away his reply. “No… I mean here. What are you doing in
this greenhouse, talking to me? There are plenty of young women at
the party who would welcome your company.”
Something
molten shifted behind his eyes. “I have no interest in those other
women.” His eyes roamed boldly over her body. “Whereas you…you’re
different.”
Oh
yeah…this one was dangerous. She tossed her head. “Don’t be
ridiculous. You don’t even know me. Besides, you can’t just walk
in here and throw a few compliments my way and expect me to fall at
your feet.”
“Oh?”
A smile flirted with the corners of his mouth, and then moved to his
eyes. “Why not?”
Olivia’s
thoughts churned. “Because I’m a grown woman who knows her own
mind, and I’m not interested in a relationship right now.” She
cringed inwardly. That speech was so pathetic!
“Well
that suits me fine, because neither am I.” He still lounged
casually against the bench. “I simply want to hire you. I want you
to pose as my fiancée.”
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