By Jeanne St. James
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance (Light Suspense)
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Two scarred souls: one physically, one mentally. Both on the mend, hiding from their
Mace Walker can’t wait to get home.
Being buried deep undercover for the past two years, on the most complex case of his
career, has torn him down physically and mentally. Now the FBI agent has come home
to recover after having his leg badly injured from a gunshot wound. Arriving home late
one night, his relief is short-lived as he's faced with a stranger pointing a gun to his
head, acting like he is the one who doesn’t belong there!
Colby Parks, a biochemist at the local university, had come to town a year earlier to
escape an abusive relationship. She vows never to put herself in that situation again.
Then the perfect opportunity comes along: house-sitting for Mace’s sister while making
the house she purchased habitable. But she couldn't anticipate this big snag: the one
wearing the tight Levi’s and worn leather jacket, looking like he had just escaped prison.
Being forced to share a house creates sparks between them in more ways than one.
However, things take a turn when their pasts catch up to them, threatening to pull them
Late in the afternoon, Mace heard a car drive up and opened the front door to see
who it was. He surprised himself; he never even looked out the peephole first. It felt
good to open a door without fear of some thug blowing holes in him. Three days home,
and he was starting to relax already.
Colby parked a bright red, but older, convertible next to his not so bright, old Ford
truck. He spotted the groceries in the back seat and went to help her.
“Sharp,” he said, snagging a couple of the bags.
Colby handed him a third and grabbed one herself. “Me or the car?”
“Both. I didn’t think you had a vehicle.”
“It was at the garage. Needed a water pump.”
He followed her into the house. “Yeah? Too bad I didn’t arrive sooner. I’m great with
“And women?” she tossed over her shoulder.
He grinned. “Them too.”
“Did you learn your mechanical skills at—”
Mace dropped the grocery bags on the kitchen table in time to cover her mouth with
his hand. “Don’t. I’ve had enough of your jailhouse wisecracks.”
His fingers against her warm, moist lips immediately sent a shock wave down to his
groin. He wanted to run his thumb along her bottom lip and then dip it in and out of her
mouth until it was wet. He would follow his thumb with his tongue. And other things. Or
just one other thing: his aching, swollen cock. His eyelids lowered with need until Colby
stepped away from him, breaking his contact, breaking into his thoughts.
“Too close to home?” she asked, her voice a little shaky.
Good. Maybe he affected her like she affected him. “No.”
“So, tell me what you do for a living.”
He broke eye contact first, because if he hadn’t, he would have pushed her Miss
Proper skirt up and slammed his cock home very improper-like against the kitchen
cabinet. Frontward, backward, he wouldn’t be picky.
Instead, he concentrated hard on the subject at hand. “You first. What do you do
with your days, Ms. Parks?”
“You’re avoiding the question. Finish carrying in the groceries while I unpack them,
and then, and only then, I might play your little game, Mr. Walker.”
If she only knew what game he really wanted to play with her…
He behaved himself and brought in the rest of the bags. Settling into a chair, he
regarded Colby while she started dinner.
“Are you an MCP?”
A what? He shot her a questioning look.
“A male chauvinist pig,” she clarified. “Don’t you cook or clean or do laundry?”
Mace smiled. “I try to avoid it at all costs.”
“So, who normally does all your domestic duties?”
“Here we go with the questions again. You still need to answer mine.”
She gave a little shrug. “Fine.”
He stood and moved in behind Colby. She started when she turned around and
found him so close. Close enough to feel her heat. And make him lose his mind.
“What are you doing?”
The tremble in her voice caught his attention and threw a little cold water on his
steaming hot libido. “Helping. I assume that’s what you wanted when you started in on
the male chauvinist crap.”
When her relief was obviously clear, Mace shook his head. Three days had gone by.
They’d eaten meals and watched TV together, and he had even helped her paint her
yellow kitchen. Not to mention the make-out session in the hallway yesterday. But she
still hadn’t relaxed around him yet.
Thinking about their up-close and personal time on Sunday made his cock snap right
back up to attention. But he needed to be cautious. Even though he wanted to get down
and dirty with her, discover all her secrets, he couldn’t push too hard. Not yet. He didn’t
want to scare her away. Hell, if he wasn’t careful, the sexual tension would kill him.
“You’ve read my mind. You can make the salad.”
If they were reading each other’s minds, he was in trouble. Because right now, his
mind was dirty, dirty, so fucking filthy. He imagined digging his fingers deep into her
fireball mane while she sucked him off. She would be on her knees, and he would be
guiding her head back and forth. Her wet mouth around his cock, little moans escaping
Mace bit off a groan and removed the rinsed vegetables out of the colander where
they’d been drip-drying. He grabbed a cutting board and sat back down at the table to
chop them. He had to concentrate on something else. Like lettuce.
JEANNE ST. JAMES is a USA Today bestselling erotic romance author who loves an
alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing. Her first paid
published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel,
Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs.
She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages. Want to read a sample of her work?
Download a sampler book HERE.