Rocky Mountain Haven (27 page)

Blake watched, motionless and noiseless for so long he felt like a statue, every bit of his body gone as hard and rigid as his aching shaft. Indecision held him, immobilized him. The rush of blood through his veins drowned out the part of his common sense saying he needed to leave. The pounding faded everything logical and rational away in him and stripped him bare to need and desire.

His eyes needed him to stay here, to fill his brain with the vision of her glowing skin, her seductive movements. His hands needed to touch her, run over her curves in imitation of the water caressing in endless sweeps. His mouth needed to taste—not only her lips, but her breasts and the spot on her back where the skin dimpled above her ass.

He desired her. Every fiber of his being wanted to show her how much, but his conscience kept kicking his feet from under him before he could cross the room.

This was
Jaxi
.

He wished he had never walked down the hallway.

Jaxi opened her eyes, her gaze unfocused for a second before she noticed him standing in the steamy room like some ghostly Peeping Tom. Her quick intake of breath showed clearly enough she didn’t expect anyone, hadn’t realized she’d been putting on a show.

Now was a perfect time for him to drop his head and slip away. He couldn’t do it. She stared back at him through the mist hanging in the air, her eyes as big as silver dollars. She bit her bottom lip, and he fought a mental battle to leave, fought to stay quiet.

Then he noticed her nipples change. Tightening even as he looked at her. Electric pulses shot through him, and his hands itched to touch her, to lift the weight of her breasts and lap at those gems that had grown erect beneath his gaze.

Jaxi turned off the water and stepped slowly toward him, head held high. She sauntered up, slippery and wet, naked as a jaybird. Her skin glowed with heat as she stopped inches away, staring unendingly with those mesmerizing grey eyes. She reached out, her naked skin brushing his shoulder. She drew back, her arm clasping a towel she’d grasped from the hook beside his head.

He thought she’d wrap herself up quick. Instead she rotated her fingers and let the towel hang as she held the fluffy fabric to him. He glanced down, saw the way her hand trembled even as she put on a bold face and kept her body motionless under his heated gaze. He reached for her, his hand moving of its own accord before his brain fully engaged.

What brain? All the blood he needed for thinking had pooled in his groin.

This was the second time she’d taken him by surprise, and he couldn’t make the same mistake. He’d been haunted since the first incident.

He couldn’t let anything happen. It wasn’t right for them to be together.

Blake withdrew his hand.

And fled.

She wants it. He’s got it. And the chase is on…

Chasin’ Eight

© 2011 Lorelei James

Rough Riders, Book 11

Bull rider Chase McKay has finally landed in a pile too big to charm his way out of. Caught with his pants down, he finds himself bucked right off the PBR tour until he can get his act together.

Hollywood actress Ava Cooper became the tabloids’ favorite target when her longtime boyfriend was outed as gay. Now she wants a place to lay low and a chance to prove to herself that she can satisfy a red-blooded man between the sheets. The sexy, rugged cowboy she finds holed up in her Wyoming hideaway seems like the answer to her every fantasy. 

But Chase has sworn off women. Forever. Or at least a month. Whichever comes first.

When they take to the road to get Chase more hands-on bull riding experience, they have every intention of keeping their hands off each other. But the two headstrong stars quickly end up riding a hot and heady rodeo circuit all their own—until the press gets wind of their affair. When the dust clears and the lights of the paparazzi fade, are they ready to give up chasing the dream for a chance of finding forever?

Warning: Strap in, another hot McKay is about to bust out of the gate and this bull rider knows a thing or two about riding hard…

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Chasin’ Eight:

When Ava saw the half-naked cowboy sprawled on the couch, snoring softly, she knew last night hadn’t been a dream.

She rested her shoulder against the partition separating the hallway from the living room and looked her fill.

The man, quite simply, was stunning. And living in California, surrounded by the best-looking men in the world, she knew stunning. Sculpted cheekbones that emphasized the leanness of his cheeks. A broad, masculine jaw. Full, ripe lips. His nose was slightly crooked, but it worked centered among the rest of his perfect features. His dark eyebrows were drawn together in a frown, even as he slept. His hair, a striking shade of coal black, held a hint of curl.

Her gaze meandered south, over the flare of his thick neck, to his bare chest, packed with muscles. More dark hair highlighted his defined pectorals, trailing down to bisect his ripped abs. The damn blanket hid his lower half from his hip to his knee, but one bare calf and foot poked out.

Probably creepy to gawk at him when he was unaware, but he’d seen her naked body last night, so tit for tat.

He’d thrown his left arm above his head, which drew her eye to his—holy crap—mammoth biceps and meaty forearm. Her gaze dropped to his crotch. Chances were high he had a little dick. Beautiful men like him always had one physical flaw, and since she couldn’t see any others…

Wait.

Her eyes narrowed and swept down the length of his body. His feet didn’t reach the end of the couch. Which made him short. At least three inches shorter than her. Not that it made a damn bit of difference in her mind. They’d still be eye to eye when they were having sex missionary style. And it wouldn’t matter at all when she was on top.

Stop gawking before he catches you, perv. You’re acting like you haven’t seen a half-naked man in years, not months.

She started a pot of coffee, lamenting the fact there weren’t any Starbucks within two hundred miles, and turned on her laptop, shooting a glance at the still-sleeping cowboy. Last night he’d claimed to be some kind of…rodeo riding guy.

Hello, Google search.

Ava was shocked by all the links that popped up when she typed in Chase McKay. This guy was a big deal in the Professional Bull Riders world. He had a website. He had a fan page on Facebook. She scrolled down. Hey. Chase McKay had more “Likes” than she did. But she noticed no new posts since the announcement he planned to take time off to heal a recurring injury.

He didn’t look injured.

She continued to cyber stalk him, fascinated by a world she knew nothing about. She found pictures of Chase McKay with mayors and governors. Other bull riders. Country singers. Stock contractors. PBR officials and sponsors. Close-up stills of his best rides and his worst wrecks.

But most of the pictures were of the hot cowboy with women. Lots of women—young, old, fat, skinny. Rodeo queens and other rhinestone-wearing women who weren’t queens but sure looked the part. The other odd thing? Not a single woman was taller than him.

Ava followed a link that directed her to articles about Chase. Happy as she was to hit pay dirt, the consensus in the last year of rodeo sports experts? Chase McKay was washed up. His riding percentage—whatever that meant—was rock bottom. Rumors abounded about the trail of broken hearts he left across the country. A couple of snarky reporters dubbed him “Chase’n Tail McKay” since his personal life overshadowed his professional career.

Welcome to the club, bub
.

The next series of articles, dated the last three months, hinted at Chase settling into a relationship with Sheree Bishop, daughter of Lou Bishop, billionaire owner of Bishop’s Sporting Goods, the PBR’s new sponsor. During one interview, Sheree admitted she and Chase were “serious” but Chase neither confirmed nor denied Sheree’s claim. In fact, there were no pictures of Chase and Sheree together.

Were they keeping their relationship on the down low? Or was there nothing to report?

“Looks like you’ve found some interesting reading,” Chase drawled behind her.

Ava jumped. Heat rushed to her face and she fought the urge to slam her laptop shut. “Can you blame me for being curious? Since you were sleeping in the next room and wouldn’t confirm or deny you’re a serial killer?”

“I guess not. But you coulda just asked me.”

“You were asleep.” She watched him pour himself a cup of coffee. He wore athletic shorts, no shirt, apparently perfectly comfortable half-dressed with a woman he didn’t know.

Like you have room to judge. You were naked in front of him last night.

And wowza. With a slamming body like that? The man should waltz around naked all the time.

“So?” He pursed his lips and blew across his coffee. “Did you find proof I’m not a serial killer?”

“Yes. But it sounds like you’re some kind of lady killer.”

Chase rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it.

“I’ll plead total ignorance on what it means to be a bull rider, so I did some research. All the rest of this stuff popped up.” Ava bit back a girly sigh when his beautiful blue gaze connected with hers. “Are you really off the PBR tour because of an injury?”

Chase held her gaze long enough to make her heart speed up. Just when she thought he wouldn’t answer, he said, “Nope. I’m suspended indefinitely for inappropriate behavior.”

“What’d you do?” Another one of his intense eye locks. But he didn’t seem inclined to answer this time, so she tossed out, “I’m no stranger to PR nightmares. Regardless if I was the one at fault. If you’re looking for someone to commiserate with? That’d be me.”

He smiled. And holy fuck was it a smile that unlocked the gates of heaven.

Or the devil’s door. Which quite frankly, she preferred.

“Short version? Two weeks ago I was caught in a compromising position with a couple of ladies. I ain’t gonna make excuses, it was what it was, and I’m paying the price. I suddenly found myself with time off while I wait for the PBR to call me back. My folks and brothers live here, but I didn’t want to deal with their pity, so I asked Kane if I could hang out and make plans.”

“Sounds like you’re reading a page out of the story of my life.” Ava typed her name into the search engine and spun the laptop around. “Have a look.”

Chase scooted out the chair across from her and sat. His fingers clicked on the keyboard. His eyebrows went up a couple of times. But he didn’t speak for a few minutes.

She refilled their cups and braced herself when she sensed him staring at her.

“Your ex was gay?”

“Yes. It was quite a shock to me.”

“It wouldn’t have shocked me at all. He looks gay.”

Ava bristled. “You can’t tell that by looking at him.”

“Sure I can.” Chase spun the laptop around and enlarged the photo of Ava and Jake at an Emmy Awards after-party. He pointed at Jake’s feet enclosed in white patent leather clogs decorated with brightly colored polka dots. “No straight man ever wears shoes like them.”

“Shows what you know. Those are high-couture shoes.”

“Those are highly
gay
shoes.”

She wanted to laugh, she really did. It’d been ages since she’d met a man so willing to speak his mind. “Shoes are your gauge for determining sexual preference?”

“No, the best indicator is sex. How often did you have sex?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” she snipped.

Chase leaned closer. “It’s the only thing that’s relevant. Because if he wasn’t dragging you to bed at least twice a day, the man was either a fuckin’ moron or totally gay. Probably both.”

That was kind of sweet…in a caveman sort of way. “Not everything has to do with sex.”

“Oh yeah? If that’s true, then this Jake guy wouldn’t have left you to have sex with a dude, would he?”

Ava’s mouth dropped open.

“Shit. Sorry. That came out wrong. What I meant—”

“No. Don’t.” She placed her hand on his arm. “I think you’re the first person who’s been totally honest with me.”

He relaxed. Smiled again and she bit back another sigh. “So this is what sent you running from California?”

“I got tired of the paparazzi.” Something kicked from what he’d said about his family. “I got tired of the pity. Of the trade mags making such a big deal out of it. I needed to get away and prove…”

There was that amazing grin again. “Don’t clam up on me now, Hollywood.”

Ava laughed at his impromptu nickname for her.

“And if you’re afraid I’ll judge you? Think again.”

“You were dead-on with the sex question. One of the reasons I’m here? To find a guy I can get wild with. To prove I’m hot between the sheets. To prove I can keep a man sexually satisfied.”

“Is that right?” he drawled.

Her brain slipped into seductress mode as she channeled the femme fatale she’d played on TV for two seasons. “Maybe…you’re the man who can help me with that.”

Some hearts only want what they can’t have…

Headstrong

© 2011 Meg Maguire

Libby Prentiss is ready to simply be herself. After half a lifetime rebelling against her privileged family’s expectations, she hopes her biological research trip to New Zealand will cut the cord for good.

It doesn’t take long to spot the hopelessly amateurish spy her overprotective father has hired to keep an eye on her. Fortunately, Reece Nolan’s desperation to save his family’s pub makes it all too easy to convince him to turn double-agent. Yet there’s something different about him. His icy reserve sets her on fire…and ignites a secret yearning to let him see the mass of insecurities she hides behind her provocative persona.

Where Reece is a glacier of cool self-control, his brother Colin is a hot-blooded, unpredictable volcano. Libby’s instant friendship with Colin is more satisfying than anything she’s ever known—and traps her in completely foreign territory. She’s caught between one man determined to hold her at arm’s length, and another who offers her the intense connection she’s worked so hard to avoid.