$3.82
Edie wants to make her 60s protester
grandparents proud. But championing the little guy gets her in trouble
with sexy CEO Everett Kirk. Someone's trying to force Everett out of his
job, and Edie's latest escapade hasn't helped. A snowstorm and an empty
cabin makes them confront their attraction.
Edie Rowan is passionate about workers' rights, wanting her Sixties protester grandparents to be proud of her. But championing the little guy gets her in trouble with sexy CEO Everett Kirk. Kirk is Mr. Ultra-Executive with his expensive hand-tailored suits and his eyes the steel blue of a finely tempered sword - but for the intriguing contradictions of his neat ponytail and square workman's hands.
Edie's latest disaster, a teambuilding exercise gone facepalm wrong, leads to a knockdown drag-out with rival manager Bethany "The B" - or add the "Itch" - Blondelle. The incident is the last straw for Kirk. He sends Edie to management camp and to her shock, announces he will drive her there himself. She wonders why he would want eighteen hours of enforced intimacy with her, even as she's dazzled by his sparkling white smile and killer dimple.
Everett walks away from the confrontation with a headache. For years he has protected Edie from the fallout of her righteous crusading, but this may be the last time. A corporate backstabber is trying to eject Everett from his job. Even so, he's looking forward to spending time on the drive with Edie, attracted to her sunny red curls, fiery personality, and fine dark eyes.
Then a snowstorm forces them to seek shelter in an empty mountain cabin. Edie thinks she will take the lead in wilderness survival but Kirk proves more durable than his Italian loafers and silk sweater would suggest. The extended stay rubs them together in all sorts of ways, kindling emotional and physical flames. But when their corporate shells burn away, what secrets will be revealed?
Sensuality Level: Sensual
Edie Rowan is passionate about workers' rights, wanting her Sixties protester grandparents to be proud of her. But championing the little guy gets her in trouble with sexy CEO Everett Kirk. Kirk is Mr. Ultra-Executive with his expensive hand-tailored suits and his eyes the steel blue of a finely tempered sword - but for the intriguing contradictions of his neat ponytail and square workman's hands.
Edie's latest disaster, a teambuilding exercise gone facepalm wrong, leads to a knockdown drag-out with rival manager Bethany "The B" - or add the "Itch" - Blondelle. The incident is the last straw for Kirk. He sends Edie to management camp and to her shock, announces he will drive her there himself. She wonders why he would want eighteen hours of enforced intimacy with her, even as she's dazzled by his sparkling white smile and killer dimple.
Everett walks away from the confrontation with a headache. For years he has protected Edie from the fallout of her righteous crusading, but this may be the last time. A corporate backstabber is trying to eject Everett from his job. Even so, he's looking forward to spending time on the drive with Edie, attracted to her sunny red curls, fiery personality, and fine dark eyes.
Then a snowstorm forces them to seek shelter in an empty mountain cabin. Edie thinks she will take the lead in wilderness survival but Kirk proves more durable than his Italian loafers and silk sweater would suggest. The extended stay rubs them together in all sorts of ways, kindling emotional and physical flames. But when their corporate shells burn away, what secrets will be revealed?
Sensuality Level: Sensual
Excerpt:
Copyright © 2013 Mary Hughes All rights reserved — a Crimson Romance publication
The next morning, the first thing to breach Edie’s awareness was soft, soothing music from her clock radio.
Followed by loud, masculine swearing from her apartment door.
A startled glance at the clock told her she’d overslept. Jingling jump drives, Kirk was here to pick her up. Two days alone in a car with his authority, his shoulders, his smile —
Pounding blasted the door. The man had fists like sledgehammers. Something told her he’d been pounding quite a while.
She groaned. She hadn’t even had her coffee yet. Thank goodness her brand-new, theft-deterrent door stood between her and a blistering lecture. She clambered out of bed and threw a robe over her oversized T-shirt. More pounding, blisteringly loud, drowned out the soft padding of her bare feet. Hopefully the door was as good as the sales rep promised.
She padded a bleary path from her bedroom, along the hall toward the living room.
The pounding stopped.
He’d given up. Yay. Not that Kirk was known for giving up, but she was desperate for caffeine. She U-turned for the kitchen.
A bam spun her. A bang, and the front door burst open in a shower of splintered wood.
Kirk rushed through. “Damn it, Edie. Are you all right?”
“Don’t swear. Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be all right?”
e stepped into her living room and she saw the damage. Her eyes opened wide. Both door and jamb were splintered.
Apparently the rep had overstated its solidness.
“I still have eleven easy payments left on that!” She scurried past Kirk to get a better look.
And stepped on a chunk of broken wood. “Ouch.” Pain slashed her sole, stabbed her big toe.
“Damn it, Edie. You should have slippers on.”
“Please don’t swear — ”
“Screw that.” Kirk swept down on her and scooped her up.
Her belly swooped. She’d been carried by a man once but not so effortlessly. Kirk’s arms were immensely strong and secure and he smelled beguilingly of crisp air and cedar-packed wool. When he settled her on the living room couch, she was disappointed.
Disappointed? That scared the skit out of her. “I didn’t need slippers. My floor was perfectly clean until a moment ago.”
“We only have your word for that.” He sat on the couch at her feet. Grabbing her injured foot, he pinched her toe.
“Yowch! What are you doing?”
“Removing a splinter. A big ’un.”
“Sure you weren’t trying to pop my toe off?” But it did feel bett
He lifted her foot. “Hmm. A couple gashes.” He spread his arms to forklift her again. “We need to clean this.”
“No, we don’t.” She ducked and scooted to one corner of the couch. “I can walk.”
“Bare feet versus this floor? I’ll carry you.” He reached for her with his all-too-capable arms.
She leaped up, her injured foot slapping against hardwood. The gashes screamed protest and she stumbled, nearly face-planting into the wall.
Kirk leaped after her. “Damn it, Edie — ”
“Language!” She palmed stop. “You’re right. I’ll keep it off the ground, see?” She lifted her foot high — pulling something in her groin. She winched down a grimace and bunnied one-legged into the hallway.
Out of sight, she cautiously set her foot down.
“If you risk infection by putting that foot down,” Kirk called from the living room, “I will personally lash your ankle to your thigh. Let me warn you, I tie some pretty wicked knots.”
The next morning, the first thing to breach Edie’s awareness was soft, soothing music from her clock radio.
Followed by loud, masculine swearing from her apartment door.
A startled glance at the clock told her she’d overslept. Jingling jump drives, Kirk was here to pick her up. Two days alone in a car with his authority, his shoulders, his smile —
Pounding blasted the door. The man had fists like sledgehammers. Something told her he’d been pounding quite a while.
She groaned. She hadn’t even had her coffee yet. Thank goodness her brand-new, theft-deterrent door stood between her and a blistering lecture. She clambered out of bed and threw a robe over her oversized T-shirt. More pounding, blisteringly loud, drowned out the soft padding of her bare feet. Hopefully the door was as good as the sales rep promised.
She padded a bleary path from her bedroom, along the hall toward the living room.
The pounding stopped.
He’d given up. Yay. Not that Kirk was known for giving up, but she was desperate for caffeine. She U-turned for the kitchen.
A bam spun her. A bang, and the front door burst open in a shower of splintered wood.
Kirk rushed through. “Damn it, Edie. Are you all right?”
“Don’t swear. Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be all right?”
e stepped into her living room and she saw the damage. Her eyes opened wide. Both door and jamb were splintered.
Apparently the rep had overstated its solidness.
“I still have eleven easy payments left on that!” She scurried past Kirk to get a better look.
And stepped on a chunk of broken wood. “Ouch.” Pain slashed her sole, stabbed her big toe.
“Damn it, Edie. You should have slippers on.”
“Please don’t swear — ”
“Screw that.” Kirk swept down on her and scooped her up.
Her belly swooped. She’d been carried by a man once but not so effortlessly. Kirk’s arms were immensely strong and secure and he smelled beguilingly of crisp air and cedar-packed wool. When he settled her on the living room couch, she was disappointed.
Disappointed? That scared the skit out of her. “I didn’t need slippers. My floor was perfectly clean until a moment ago.”
“We only have your word for that.” He sat on the couch at her feet. Grabbing her injured foot, he pinched her toe.
“Yowch! What are you doing?”
“Removing a splinter. A big ’un.”
“Sure you weren’t trying to pop my toe off?” But it did feel bett
He lifted her foot. “Hmm. A couple gashes.” He spread his arms to forklift her again. “We need to clean this.”
“No, we don’t.” She ducked and scooted to one corner of the couch. “I can walk.”
“Bare feet versus this floor? I’ll carry you.” He reached for her with his all-too-capable arms.
She leaped up, her injured foot slapping against hardwood. The gashes screamed protest and she stumbled, nearly face-planting into the wall.
Kirk leaped after her. “Damn it, Edie — ”
“Language!” She palmed stop. “You’re right. I’ll keep it off the ground, see?” She lifted her foot high — pulling something in her groin. She winched down a grimace and bunnied one-legged into the hallway.
Out of sight, she cautiously set her foot down.
“If you risk infection by putting that foot down,” Kirk called from the living room, “I will personally lash your ankle to your thigh. Let me warn you, I tie some pretty wicked knots.”
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