Happy Saturday! I'm still having some computer issues - grrrrrrrr - and didn't have time to work them out this week so my blogging was nil. Right now I'm on the netbook so I can post this fabulous Saturday Snippet.


Today's topic is Black Moments. I admit, I'm a sucker a deep, dark, emotional black moment. I love them! The more emotional, the better!

This one comes from my May release, MARKED. It's not THE black moment(that would give too much away!), but it's the lead-in to it. I hope you enjoy!

***
Excerpted from: MARKED
ISBN: 978-0-505-52822-3
Release Date: April 27, 2010

Theron stared at the ceiling long after Acacia fell asleep. Gods, he liked this. Way too much. Her, here in his bed. Hidden away from the world. Warm and snug and his.

His. There was a word. The irony was like a knife to the stomach.

He rolled to his side so he could watch her sleep and knew they didn’t have long. The king had probably already called the rest of the Argonauts together. What he’d said in the king’s chambers—with Zander as a witness—would be considered treason. He fully expected one of his kin to come charging in at any moment and drag him away.

He could hear their discussion now. Cerek the peacemaker would convince the rest not to take action until the morning. They’d come at first dawn. Play to Theron’s sense of honor. If that didn’t work, Gryphon would crack a joke about getting the king good, in a lame attempt to lighten the mood. Zander wouldn’t care one way or the other— so long as what happened to Theron didn’t affect him. And Demetrius . . . yeah, Demetrius would be pushing to have Theron hanged.

Too late, Theron realized he’d never told his Argonauts how much he respected them. Though they served together, fought together, none of them were close. And as he looked down at Casey, sleeping on her stomach with both arms tucked under her, her face tipped his way and one of her legs intertwined with his, he realized he’d never even thought of his Argonauts as separate individuals before. To him, they’d always been nothing more than fighters in a war they’d all been trained for. But now?

Now it was as if his eyes had been opened.

He brushed a finger down Acacia’s cheek, watched her back rise and fall in deep sleep. Studied the way her lashes formed spiky crescent shapes on her pale cheeks. Her courage still awed him. Last night she’d been ready to take him on. There was no other female in the universe who would dare stand up to him when he was in one of his moods, but it hadn’t stopped her. She was fearless. And as selfless as he’d told the king. Everything he’d never wanted but now couldn’t imagine living without.

He’d known she was his from the first taste. Long before he’d ever slid deep inside her. If he’d been more in tune with his humanity, he would have recognized it the first time he’d kissed her back in her small house. But he hadn’t. Because he’d needed her to unlock that side of him he’d always repressed.

She was his curse. His soul mate. His life. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to keep her from dying.

His finger ran down her shoulder, over her back until he found the sheet covering her gorgeous ass. He gripped the cotton and pulled it down, then eased up on an elbow and looked at her marking.

Gods, it was fading. In a matter of days, it would be gone.

His chest squeezed tight, and though he wanted nothing more than to slide back inside her and wake her from the inside out, he knew he couldn’t. Shouldn’t. She needed to save her strength, not use it up pleasuring him.

One glance at the window told him the moon was setting and morning would be here soon. Careful, so as not to wake her, he pulled the covers up around her shoulders and headed for the shower. Her scent all over his body was distracting and arousing at the same time. As he lathered and rinsed under the hot spray, he told himself he was doing the right thing. The king had been correct on one count. Sometimes a great sacrifice is necessary.

He cut the water, grabbed a towel and dried his hair. After toweling off his legs, he pulled on new jeans, lifted the terry to his shoulders and froze.

Someone was outside on his porch.

Skata, he’d been wrong. They’d come for him already.

A deep male voice echoed through the closed doors. Followed by Acacia’s surprised and wary one.

His heart rate jerked.

No. He was wrong. They’d come for her.

***
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I'm back with Saturday snippets and today's topic is lost loves, which fits in perfectly with my August release, ENTWINED. So this is a piece from that.

Enjoy!

***
Excerpted from: ENTWINED
Eternal Guardians Book #2
Release Date: August 2010
ISBN: 978-0-505-52822-3

“Where do you want me?”

Callia turned away from the window without meeting Zander's eyes, dropped her arms and pointed toward the end of the king’s now-empty desk. “There. Sit.”

He crossed the floor silently in bare feet and eased a hip onto the end of the king’s long desk. He tested the piece of furniture for stability, and when he was sure it wasn’t going to collapse under his weight, scooted back until his legs were hanging over the edge and his bare feet dangled inches above the floor.

She didn’t say anything about the fact he wasn’t completely naked, and he wasn’t about to bring it up again. To distract himself, he stared down at his toes while she moved around the room. She pulled a small side table with her supplies next to her. Seconds later he felt her hand land on his back and couldn’t stop the way he arched in response. When she said, “Deep breath,” he forced himself to relax as she moved the stethoscope around, obviously listening to his lungs.

The metal against his skin was cold, but her fingers were warm and silky—too warm and silky. His blood was already heating just from being this close to her, and every time she brushed his skin, it set off tremors deep in his body. He focused on his breathing—on the steady in and out—in an attempt to stay calm. When she moved around to stand in front of him, repeating the order, he averted his eyes from her face and focused on the fitted white sweater she wore instead.

Her gasp brought his head up. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“That’s not nothing.” She focused on his shoulder as she looped the stethoscope around her neck, reached for her bag and came back with gauze and supplies.

“Leave it,” he said before she could touch him. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

She dabbed at the dried blood with a wad of gauze. “The muscle’s torn. You need this stitched closed before infection sets in.”

“It’s already healing.”

“I see that but—”

He grabbed her wrist, stilling her motion. A jolt ran through him at the connection, but he ignored it. The last thing he needed was her hands on his body more than was already necessary. “I said leave it.”

Her eyes slid from the wound to his face and held. And before he realized it, he was staring into eyes like a Caribbean sunset in the human world. Eyes he’d looked into countless times before as they’d made love. Eyes he’d dreamed about numerous times in the years since until he’d woken in a cold and aching sweat.

Thoughts vanished from his mind. The connection they’d had from the first sparked deep in his chest, burned in the bottom of his soul. Tempted him to reach for her and find out if she felt it, too. He couldn’t be the only one who remembered, could he? She had to feel something when she saw him. When she stood this close. When she touched him.

Thoughts, memories, feelings he’d kept buried for a long time pushed in as he stared into her gem-like eyes. A movie of their time together flickered in front of his face. And then when he got to the part where she betrayed him, that blaze went out. Leaving behind nothing but charred ash and ruins.

It didn’t matter what she felt. Their past was over and done with. The Fates had screwed him in more ways than one. There wasn’t anything about her now that could change what had happened back then.

He dropped her hand as quickly as he’d grabbed it. Then glanced back at her sweater. “Finish the exam.”

***
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Now that my contest is done, I can get back to posting the Saturday Snippets! Today's topic is Mistaken Identity. And this excerpt comes from MARKED, book 1 in the Eternal Guardians Series - which releases April 27, 2010.

Enjoy!

***
Excerpted from MARKED
April 27, 2010
Dorchester
ISBN: 978-0-505-52822-3

She should have been shocked to see him again, but Casey was too numb to feel anything other than irritation at the interruption. “We’re closed early due to the
weather.”

“I—” Theron cleared his throat. “I’m looking for Acacia Simopolous.”

He didn’t even know he was looking for her? Wonderful. Her day was sooo getting better.

“You found her.” She refocused on her task and shoved a book on the shelf harder than it needed. “And for the record, the only person allowed to call me Acacia is my grandmother, who, thanks for reminding me, is dead. Now, if that takes care of the reason you’re here, you can head right back out the way you came in.”

He let out what sounded to her like a frustrated breath.

As if she cared.

“I’d like a few minutes to speak with you—”

She turned to flick a withering look his direction from above. “My friends call me Casey. Since you are neither a friend nor relative, you can call me Ms. Simopolous. Assuming, that is, you can remember my frickin’ name.”

When he continued to stare up at her with a befuddled expression, her last shred of patience broke. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. What the hell are you doing here, Theron? You made it perfectly clear the other night you didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

“You remember that? I didn’t—”

“Trust me, buddy. I’d like nothing more than to forget I ever met you.”

“Acacia—”

She waved a hand and continued to roll right over him as the pressure in her chest intensified and every one of her worries hit full force like a Mack truck. “So there’s really no reason for you to be here now, is there? Just turn around and go, because I don’t want you to . . . be . . . here right . . .”

Oh, God. She was gonna lose it. The pressure built until it felt like a ten-ton bomb was sitting on her chest. Tears pushed at her eyes. She would not cry in front of this man. She wouldn’t give him a single reason to think it was about the way he’d treated her, because it wasn’t. It was about everything else. Everything Jill had just told her.

She climbed down off the ladder quickly and pressed a hand to her chest.

“Meli.” He advanced on her.

“Don’t!” She held up a hand to block him. There must have been enough panic in her voice to get through, because he stopped two steps away. She focused on taking several breaths, on clearing her head, and when she felt calmer, she opened her eyes and looked up.

His skin had healed so well, there were no remnants of the accident he’d been in. He was, she noticed now, just as rugged and dangerous and sexy as he’d seemed that night in XScream. The stubble on his jaw, the dark, silky hair brushed back from his face, the strong square chin and those deep-set black eyes. But he also looked tired. Worn. As if he carried the weight of something mighty heavy on his shoulders.

Well, that made two of them. And she didn’t have the time or energy to worry about what the hell was up with him.

“I asked you to leave. I’d appreciate it if you’d do at least one thing I asked.”

“Are you all right?”

Was she all right? What a joke. She wanted to scream, No, I’m not all right. I’m never going to be all right again, you idiot! But she knew it was useless and childish, and she had just enough self- respect left to keep from making a fool out of herself in front of him. She’d already done enough of that the other night, when she’d nearly gone to bed with a complete stranger.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, jerking her hand away before he could touch her. Why wasn’t he leaving?

He glanced around the store as if taking it all in. “How do you . . . ?” He gestured to the stacks of books. “I thought you worked at that club.”

Oh, that’s right. She’d not only almost gone to bed with this guy. She’d almost gone to bed with him after meeting him at a strip club. Yeah. She got the gold star for brains this time around.

“I do,” she huffed. “Part time. Not that it’s any of your business anyway.”

What could only be described as pity crept into his eyes. Pity that fueled her temper. “I’d really hoped I was wrong.”

Wrong? Oh, now he was gonna get it. “Look, buddy. I’m not completely sure what the heck is going on here, but—”

His spine stiffened. “I have something very important I need to talk to you about, Acacia.”

The clip to his voice stopped the argument on her lips. “What could you possibly have to talk to me about?” she asked hesitantly.

“Your father.”

Okay, she’d been wrong. Seeing him again wasn’t the biggest shock of her life. This virtual stranger had just dropped the f-bomb on her.

“My father?” she asked in stunned disbelief. “My father’s dead.”

“No, he’s not. He’s very much alive. At least for the moment.”

Casey eased back against the shelf and steadied her hand on a stack of books. Paperback novels pressed into her spine, but she barely felt them. For the first time since Jill had told her of the test results and the extra battery of tests they wanted to run, she wasn’t thinking of herself. “Wh-Where is he?”

“Far away. But he’s asked for you. He’s a man of great importance where I come from. There isn’t much time left.” Theron held out his hand. “If you come with me, I’ll take you to him.”

Casey looked from his strong hand up to his intense, midnight eyes and back again. He could take her to her father. To the man who’d known her mother. To the man who should have been the one to raise her and love her and take care of her. To the one who could put together the broken pieces of her family and answer all her questions about who she really was.

Slowly she extended her hand. Warmth and electricity zipped along her skin even before their palms met. She looked up, surprised, and that’s when she saw it. Just a flicker behind his hard eyes. A window into his thoughts. And what she saw there chilled her.

Lies.

She jerked her hand back before he could touch her, and closed her fingers into a fist. “Before I agree to anything, I want to know what’s going on. Who are you?”

A menacing chuckle came from the doorway. “A hero who’s about to die.”

***
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Hey all, sorry I've been MIA all week. I've been busily working on my deadline book. Getting close to the end. Thankfully!

If you're looking for something funny, check out my post yesterday at The Mid-Willamette Valley RWA blog. I wrote about my mental process and what I go through when I'm writing a book. The comments were great and it's nice to know I'm not the only one with angst.

Today's Saturday Snippet is black moments. I love black moments. This comes from STOLEN SEDUCTION. A little warning: It's only a tiny section of the scene because if I post the whole thing in it gives away too much. I hope you enjoy!

Excerpted from STOLEN SEDUCTION
Release Date: December 29, 2009
Dorchester

Shane hadn’t spoken a word to her on the boat ride back to Marathon. Hadn’t asked if she was okay or even looked her way. And Hailey tried not to read anything into that. Tried to tell herself she didn’t care whether he was worried about her mental health.

But it was hard. Especially when they climbed on the Roark Bombardier and she gave the pilot the coordinates from her father’s letter, found out they were heading to Jamaica, told Shane, and he still didn’t say a single word in response. Just strapped in and waited for takeoff with clenched jaw and eyes that seemed to look off into space.

Okay, he was ticked. Didn’t take a brainiac to figure that one out. She twiddled her thumbs while the plane gained momentum and they shot into the air. The second they were high enough, she flipped off her seatbelt and hit the galley for something to drink to settle her nerves.

She was pouring her second shot when Shane picked her up by the elbows and turned her around to face him. The bottle of bourbon slipped from her fingers and hit the counter with a crack. “What the hell are you—”

His mouth was over hers before the words were even past her lips, but she knew instinctively this wasn’t a gentle kiss. Wasn’t a loving kiss. Wasn’t even an I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through kiss. It was hard and wet and a little bit mean as his teeth sank into her bottom lip hard enough for a lick of pain to shoot though her skin. He didn’t give her a chance to say yes or no or anything in between, because he was yanking her off the floor and pushing her through the door into the private cabin and shoving her down to the mattress before she even realized they were moving.

He was pissed. She could feel the anger pumping off him in hot, rolling waves. Knew he was replaying what she’d done in that bunker and using it to punish her. And while her brain told her rough, angry sex was a really bad idea, especially after the way things had gone last night and this morning, her own adrenaline was still so high, she didn’t care.

Oh, God…

Bad, awful, really dangerous idea. So how come with him it felt so right?

***
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Today's Saturday Snippet is all about weapons. I decided to pull something from MARKED for this one. I hope you enjoy!

***
Excerpted from MARKED
Release Date: May 2010
Dorchester

The air chilled, and the hair on the back of Theron’s neck stood up before he could question the child in-depth. Destiny forgotten, he edged toward the opening of the loft that looked down over the burned village. Then cursed long and low.

“Marissa,” Acacia said in a forceful voice, “Did Theron put you up to this?”

Theron moved as quickly and quietly as he could across the floor and grasped Acacia by the arm, pulling her up to his side. “We have a problem,” he said quietly into her ear.

She looked over with irritated eyes. “What now?”

“Three daemons. They look to be on patrol.” Acacia’s face went ashen. “My guess is they watch this area for stragglers in the hopes they may lead them to the colony.”

“Oh, shit,” she whispered.

“Acacia,” he said brusquely as he she trembled against him. “Stay with me.” Wide violet eyes met his, but there was fear there—lots of it—as she obviously remembered their last run in with Atalanta’s henchmen.

Dammit, this was what he’d been afraid of the moment she’d set out on this stupid quest. “I can handle the daemons. But you have to get Marissa to safety.”

She glanced right and left. “All three? You can’t…back at the store—”

“I can,” he said quickly. “At the store I was worried about you. Trust me. I know what I’m doing. But only if we work together.”

“Oh, God.” When she sagged against him, he knew he was losing her.

He tightened his arm around her waist, while listening intently to what was happening outside. The daemons were moving closer. He was running out of time. “You have to pull it together right now because I want to hear all the other reasons you’re not really attracted to me.”

She looked up, swallowed hard. And as their eyes met the connection they’d shared from the first flared deep in his soul. He knew she felt it too. Just as he knew if something happened to her here, he would never be the same.

She nodded once, twice, and pulled her courage up like a suit of armor. “I…I’m not attracted to you.” But she gripped his shirt at the chest and didn’t make any move to let go.

“Liar,” he whispered, just before dipping his head and taking her mouth.

The kiss was fast, and not nearly as deep as he wanted. But they didn’t have time for anything more.

He pulled the spiked dagger knife from his ankle, unsnapped the holster and attached it to her calf. Then he opened the weapon that was shaped like a bowie knife with menacing spikes sticking out of the underside of the handle. “Take this. Hold it here.” He positioned her fingers. “If any get past me, this won’t do you any good unless they get close. Swing like this. Away from your body.” He moved her arm to show her what he meant. “The spikes tear up the flesh and the blade does the rest. It won’t kill a daemon, but a good solid hit will incapacitate one long enough for you to get away.”

“Theron, I—”

“We don’t have time.” He shoved a penlight into her pocket, then grabbed Marissa and pushed her toward Casey. “Wait until you see me out front, then take the back ladder and head for the mountain across the stream. Try to find a cave or shelter to hide in. I’ll find you after.”

Shaking, Acacia slid the knife into its holster, lifted a frightened Marissa into her arms and cradled the child against her chest. “But how will you know where we are?”

He crossed the floor and stopped at the edge of the shadows, just out of sight of the daemons below, and took one last look at her. “I’ll always find you, Acacia. That is a promise.”

“Theron—”

He didn’t wait for her response. Instead he stepped off that second floor and landed against the cold earth one story down. All three daemons turned his direction with surprised, glowing green eyes.

“Hello, boys,” he said, reaching for his parazonium strapped to the small of his back. “You look a little lost. Let me direct you back to hell.”

***

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Happy Saturday! As you read this I'm on a plane, jetting off to Kauai for ten days with the family. It'll be a working vacation as I have a book due soon, but I'm looking forward to relaxing on the beach and soaking up some sun. I'll post pics when I get back. Though I may post some from Kauai while I'm there--will depend on the internet connection.

So today's Saturday Snippet is dialogue and I've pulled a piece from STOLEN SEDUCTION, which releases January 2010 (only a couple of months away!) I hope you enjoy this peek at Shane & Hailey.

Aloha!

***
Excerpted from STOLEN SEDUCTION
Copyright Elisabeth Naughton (January 2010)
Dorchester Love Spell
ISBN: 978-0-505-52795-0

“I hope black’s okay," Shane said. "I’m all out of milk.”

“That’s fine.”

Shane set the cookies on the coffee table and watched as Hailey brought his favorite Cubs mug to her full lips, sipped and smiled with a sexy little sigh that jacked up his hormones and supercharged his blood. She turned towards the family picture from Christmas. “I love how all the women are grinning and the men are scowling.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Stressful day. Holidays basically suck in the Maxwell household.”

She laughed again. Sipped. Moved down the wall to look at something else. He loved watching the way she moved, as smooth as a dancer with her long legs and slim frame, but with purpose and self-confidence. Suddenly she stopped, and her cobalt eyes grew wide. “Oh, my God. Is that…”

He set his mug down on the coffee table and walked up behind her, looking over her shoulder at the framed fifteen-year-old snapshot on his mantel. “Yeah, it is.

“No way.” She put her mug down and reached for the frame. “How the hell did you meet Jon Bon Jovi?”

“Funny story, actually. It was years ago, as evidenced by my baby face in that shot there. I was working patrol at the time and this guy comes flying down Lake Shore Drive just as my shift’s ending. I pull him over, read him the riot act, and turns out its Jon’s drummer. They’d just finished a concert at the United Center.”

“How fast was he going?”

“Ninety, ninety-five.”

“On Lake Shore Drive?”

“Yeah.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s like one in the morning, the streets are deserted, I’m convinced he’s blitzed. Turns out he wasn’t, just blowing off steam from the set. After a while I give him a warning, I’m too tired to deal with the paperwork anyway, and to say thanks he invites me to this party he’s going to. I wasn’t gonna go but…” He smiled, shrugged.

She flicked a look over her shoulder that was so damn sexy, he curled his fingers in his pockets to keep from reaching for her. “A warning? For ninety-five in the city?”

He shrugged again. “I plead insanity. I mean, it was Bon Jovi.”

Her grin was wide and awe-filled as she turned to trace her finger over the photo. “That is so cool.”

God, he loved the way she smiled. With her whole face, not just her plump, perfect lips. As he watched the shadows play across her features and toned body, he had a sudden urge to see her smile at him like that.

Not a good idea. Remember the last time you had that urge?

The little voice chanting in the back of his head brought reality back into sight, but he worked like hell to ignore it; was sick and tired of living his life by the push and pull of that voice even though he knew it was the only thing keeping him alive these days.

“Kinda ruined me,” he added, hoping to get her looking at him again as he moved dangerously close to her.

“Why?”

His smile returned when she shifted those glittering blue eyes his way once more, the ones that looked like the Caribbean on a cool day and reminded him of what he’d wanted to do with her in Puerto Rico. “I was like twenty-three when that happened. It was just after I’d joined the department. I thought that was normal. Imagine how shocked I’ve been that no other rock stars have been beating down my door, intent on dragging me off to their wacked-out parties.”

There it was, that sparkle in her eyes and that broad smile that showcased her tempting kiss-me lips. Only this time she was looking at him, not a piece of paper. “Wild night?”

“The wildest.”

His groin tightened at the way she was studying him, and he knew he was walking a thin tightrope with her here, now, like this. Not only had it been way too freakin’ long since he’d been with any woman, but she was the trigger that seemed to shut down his brain. Realizing that fact was part of the reason he’d walked away from her three months ago in Puerto Rico. An even bigger part of the reason he hadn’t dragged her upstairs to his hotel room after his sister’s wedding and stripped her out of that clingy black dress with his hands and teeth and toes like he’d wanted to do that whole damn day. And the only reason he hadn’t contacted her since.

Her eyes slid to his lips as he moved just a fraction of an inch closer. “I should probably go,” she said. But she didn’t move.

“You haven’t finished yet.”

“Finished what?” she asked, never once looking away from his mouth.

“Your coffee.”

“Oh. Right. That.” A hint of disappointment edged her words, and when she licked her lips in a suggestive move that made him visualize her mouth running down his bare chest and abdomen, all the blood in his head went due south.

He knew then, without a doubt, that she was feeling a little of the mind-numbing arousal he was. And hell if that didn’t jack him up more and shove the rational side of his brain to the wayside.

Don’t do it.

He rubbed his finger across her cheek and felt her tremor all the way in his feet. “I’ve got one question.”

“Just one?”

Her need-filled voice wasn’t helping. But before this went any further, he needed to know for sure. “Did you pick that bar at random, or did you know Players was my neighborhood hangout?”

“Lisa might have mentioned it. Once or twice.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

***
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One of these days I'll post this on time...

Today's Saturday Snippet is first paragraphs. So for fun I'm pasting in the first paragraphs from all three STOLEN books and the opening of MARKED, my new paranormal series. And you know what I discovered? I have a tendency to start in the heroine's POV. Who knew?

Enjoy!

Excerpted from STOLEN FURY
Copyright Elisabeth Naughton (January 2009)
Dorchester Love Spell
ISBN: 978-0-505-52793-6

The floor was still at least twenty feet below her.

Surrounded by utter blackness, Lisa Maxwell tipped her head so the cone light from her helmet could slide over the interior of the cave. Then wondered what the heck she’d gotten herself into.

***


Excerpted from STOLEN HEAT
Copyright Elisabeth Naughton (August 2009)
Dorchester Love Spell
ISBN: 978-0-505-52794-3

All things considered, she looked pretty good for a six year-old corpse.

Katherine Meyer checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror one last time and smoothed a few wild strands of hair back from her face. The black slacks and matching jacket were perfect, not one thing about them the slightest bit memorable. No one glancing her direction tonight would ever see anything other than the professional assistant she resembled, and that was precisely the way she wanted it. The less attention she drew, the safer everyone would be.

***


Excerpted from STOLEN SEDUCTION
Copyright Elisabeth Naughton (January 2010)
Dorchester Love Spell
ISBN: 978-0-505-52795-0

“You’re trying to get my ass kicked, aren’t you?”

Hailey Roarke smiled at the moody male voice echoing in her ear as she peered into the darkness. “Define trying,” she said into the mike attached to her turtleneck.

***




Excerpted from MARKED
Copyright Elisabeth Naughton (May 2010)
Dorchester Love Spell
ISBN: 0-505-52822-3

Some nights, a woman just wanted to bash her brain against a wall to keep from screaming. For Casey Simopolous, this was one of those nights.

“Yo, sistah. My tongue’s not getting any wetter over here by itself.” The blond frat-wannabe at the other end of her section threw his arms out wide with a could-you-be-more-stupid? look on his face. “We gonna get those drinks or what?” The two idiots seated next to him at the small circular table laughed and slapped him on the shoulder in a you-da-man move that made Casey grind her teeth together.

***
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Jaci Burton
McKenna Jeffries
Moira Rogers
Taige Crenshaw
Vivian Arend
Juliana Stone
Anya Bast
Lacey Savage
Shelley Munro
Sasha White
Ashley Ladd

Hey all...today is the Saturday Snippet again and the theme is the heroine doing some serious damage. This comes from STOLEN HEAT:

***
Excerpted from STOLEN HEAT
Copyright Elisabeth Naughton (August 2009)
Dorchester Love Spell
ISBN: 978-0-505-52794-3

A shadow in her rearview mirror caught her attention. Thoughts of Pete slipped to the back of Kat’s mind as her instincts jumped to alert. Slinking down in her seat, she reached up slowly and tipped the mirror so she had a better view behind her.

It was a man. Broad shoulders, long legs. Tall. Wearing a full-length dark coat. He glanced around the empty street several times before crossing the road and heading for the piranha’s building.

He stepped under a streetlight for a brief moment, then eased back into the shadows. But not before Kat saw his arm lift toward the sky. Metal glimmered in his hand. Seconds later, the light went out with a near silent pop.

But one second was all it took. In that moment he’d been in the light, Kat had a clear view of his face. Of his close-cropped hair. Of his beady eyes.

Busir.

The hair stood up on her arms, but she didn’t avert her eyes. Not even when he slinked into the shadows along the building and then stopped. Slowly, she reached for the backpack she’d set on the passenger seat, flipped it open and pawed around until she found her 9 mm. Her fingers closed over the cold metal with stunning force. Though she was expertly trained in how to use the firearm, a rush of adrenaline swept through her. Would she be able to take a life after all?

She wasn’t sure. If she did, it would put her on the same level as the men who had killed Sawil and Shannon.

She knew only one thing for certain: Busir and his goons had come for Pete just like she’d predicted. Her conscience wouldn’t let her sit back and do nothing.

After slipping the Beretta into the pocket of her jacket, she searched the backpack again for the small stun gun her self defense instructor had suggested she buy. She’d much rather use that if she could. Gripping it and an extra cartridge in her hand, she climbed out of the car, careful to stay low and silent.

A quick glance back confirmed Busir wasn’t alone. He’d brought a friend, though not the same one she’d seen at the auction. This one looked American. Kat inched her way around parked cars, well out of both their view, until she got to the alley. Once there, she kicked up her feet and ran down the wet pavement, made a trip around the block until she came up from the south behind their car.

She was breathing heavy as she ducked out of sight and moved close to the vehicle. Busir was still waiting in the shadows. His counterpart sat in the driver’s seat, awaiting his signal.

Long seconds passed while she waited. Her breathing slowed, but the adrenaline rush sent the blood pounding in her ears in time with her heart. She let instinct and years of training finally sink in, tried to block the self doubt on the fringes of her subconscious. Logic told her she couldn’t take out both men on her own, but she had surprise on her side. And she’d make the most of it.

Pete suddenly emerged from the lobby, head down and arms crossed over his chest. A frown cut across his face when he looked up to where the limo had been. One quick glance around, and then he turned toward the car. Tucking his chin against his chest, he headed up the street, oblivious to what was about to go down around him.

Perspiration dampened Kat’s skin. It nearly killed her, but she waited until she saw Busir make his move.

Then she made hers.

As Busir slinked out of the shadows and followed Pete up the sidewalk, Kat gripped the driver’s door and pulled. The man in the front seat jolted around to face her.

She was sure she’d never seen him before, but that didn’t stop her. She gripped the stun gun and hit him hard, right in the neck to avoid his coat. He jerked and yelped, but she held her ground and counted to four.

The man seized, then fell over on the front seat. He wasn’t unconscious, but he was incapacitated. At least for the time being.

And for a moment, Kat’s eyes widened at what she’d just done. Images flickered through her mind like a silent movie. The tomb. The sounds. The struggle. And running.

She closed her eyes tight and took large breaths to calm her nerves. But two was all she could afford. She opened her eyes, ready to find Pete. And that’s when she noticed the empty vial on the console. She reached around the man’s body and lifted the small glass container.

Lorazepam.

Oh, dear God.

***

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I always have these great intentions of posting early, then real life inevitably gets in the way and I'm left scrambling. Such is my life...

Last night we went bowling with friends (which, btw, I suck at) then out to dinner. Got home too late for me to post, then got up too late and found myself scrambling to get to the football field in time to watch Gremlin #2's team. And now it's already after noon. *sigh*

BUT...at least I didn't forget.

Today's Saturday Snippet is all about world building. So I thought I'd try something new and give you a sneak peek at my upcoming Eternal Guardians Series and the first book - MARKED (May 2010). I hope you enjoy!

***
Excerpted from MARKED
Copyright Elisabeth Naughton (May 2010)
Dorchester Love Spell
ISBN: 0-505-52822-3

Theron turned at the base of the grand staircase and headed for the king’s suite of rooms on the fourth floor of the castle. Enormous Grecian columns flanked the massive hallway. Plush furnishings, gilded mirrors, statuary and fresh flowers atop pedestals and marble tables filled the space around him as he moved. Wealth dripped from every trinket, from the velvet curtains at the enormous windows to the gold dusted doors he passed along his way.

The place so totally wasn’t him. His shoulders tightened with every step he took. How could the king or Isadora stand it? How in Hades would he manage living in this mausoleum? He could barely walk down the hall without feeling the overwhelming need to run for the nearest open door to freedom.

Just as he reached the end of the hall, the king’s door opened and Callia stepped out with her trusty bag in tow. He waited until she turned and saw him before speaking. “Callia.”

“Theron.” She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and gave him the once-over. “I see the rumors about you were true. I smell lavender. Is there anything you’d like me to look at?”

Always the same Callia. Direct and to the point. There’d been a time—when he’d been young and foolish—when he’d been entranced by her startling beauty just like every other pubescent Argolēan, but that had quickly faded. There’d never been a love match between himself and Callia. He liked the gynaika he bedded to have a beating heart.

“No. I’m well enough.” Thanks to Casey.

He quickly pushed thoughts of the human out of his mind. “Tell me about Isadora. Her health concerns me.”

A worried look crossed Callia’s normally confident face. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder toward the king’s doorway then motioned for Theron to join her across the hallway, out of earshot.

“Yes,” she said when they reached the staggering windows overlooking the stone courtyard below. “Theron, I’m not sure how to tell you this but, there’s no other way to say it. Isadora’s dying.”

Her words should have elicited a reaction, but instead all Theron felt was…nothing.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. A tiny part of him was relieved. And that emotion angered him more than the misery he knew he should be feeling.

“You’re sure of this?” he asked. “How? She looks—”

“I’ve consulted every medical book I have, poured through the historical annals looking for something—anything—that’s remotely similar. None of the traditional healing methods have worked. Something is broken inside her, only I can’t figure out what. It’s like…”

“What?”

She frowned. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Nothing could be crazier than knowing our kingdom is about to lose both its king and its heir. Don’t hold back from me, Callia. What?”

She let out a breath. “It’s almost like she’s losing that part of herself which is inherently Argolēan. Her immune system—which is normally strong—is the weakest I’ve ever seen. It’s almost like her human half is taking over.”

Theron glanced around the posh room but saw none of it. “Have you told anyone else this?

“No. You’re the only one. I mentioned her fading health to the king, but I don’t want to put more stress on him than is necessary. He hasn’t seen her since she was returned to the kingdom. I’m afraid her situation could push him over the edge.”

Theron glanced toward the cathedral window and the view of Tiyrns down the hill below. A bird flew over the parapet, swooped low into the courtyard and landed on the fountain’s edge. He followed the flap of its wings as the timeline he’d been ticking off in his mind jumped to light speed. He’d spent precious hours with Casey when he’d been needed here.

“How long?” he asked. “How long do you think she has left?”

“I’m not sure,” Callia said softly at his side. “Could be days. Weeks. Possibly longer. But one thing’s certain, Theron. She’s not strong enough to produce the heir the king so desperately wants from your union. A pregnancy would seal her death warrant.”

No, he’d been wrong. He did feel something. A shred of impending loss for Isadora. And a low, searing ache at the bottom of his heart for their race. This changed everything.

His gaze snapped to Callia. “This goes no farther. The Council cannot be told.”

“You’re the only one. As her future mate, it’s your burden to bring this to the Council of Elders when you see fit.”

He nodded, though it was a duty he didn’t particularly look forward to. He was a fighter, a soldier who commanded an elite band of guardians against those who would destroy their world if they could. He cared little of politics and status and the bickerings of the Council. If Isadora died without producing an heir—even if he did marry her—the Council would never allow him to become king. And the direction of the Argonauts would shift forever.

He looked toward the king’s bedroom door.

“Try not to stay longer than necessary,” Callia said. “He’s frail. And he needs his rest. If you have any other questions regarding the princess, come find me.”

Callia stepped around him, leaving him alone in the deserted grand hall. When she disappeared from sight, he rubbed a hand over his face, and fleetingly thought of Casey. Staying with her would have been a helluva lot easier and way more pleasurable than coming back to all this.

The king’s nurse rose from behind a large desk when he stepped into the outer sitting room. Theron waited while she checked to see if the king was up for a visitor.

When she returned, her lips were drawn down in a disapproving frown and lines creased the skin between her eyes. It was a look he’d seen often from her over the last few weeks. Not that he cared.

“Not long,” she said. “He needs his rest.”

He rapped on the bedroom door and waited. And told himself somehow he’d find a way to save Isadora. It was his duty, not only as the leader of the Argonauts, but as her future husband as well.

“Come in, son,” a weak voice called from the other side of the door. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

***
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Lauren Dane
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Vivian Arend
TJ Michaels
Juliana Stone
Anya Bast
Lacey Savage
Eliza Gayle

Is it Saturday again? Wow. This week flew by and I didn't blog at all. I've been buried in page proofs for STOLEN SEDUCTION this week, but I'm happy to say they are done and off to my publisher. I'm feeling a little nostalgic today...this is the end of the STOLEN TRILOGY (at least for now) and I've really fallen for all of these guys. Especially Shane. Oy. What a guy.

Today's Saturday Snippet is an emotional fight scene. This is one happens to be both emotional and physical and it's from STOLEN SEDUCTION:

Excerpted from STOLEN SEDUCTION
Copyright Elisabeth Naughton (January 2010)
Dorchester Love Spell
ISBN: 978-0-505-52795-0

Hailey's eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

“Answers. Unofficially,” Shane added before she could spout off anything else about her lawyer. “But mostly to help you.”

Those blue eyes of hers searched his face, and he could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. Along with a great big dose of I-don’t-think-so.

“You want answers?” she said. “Unofficial?”

He nodded slowly, thinking she was capitulating way too quickly, but thankful he wasn’t going to have to pry it out of her.

“Fine. I’ll answer whatever question you’ve got. But you’ve got to take me down first. I take you down, I get to ask the questions.”

She wanted to spar? With him? Here? Now? He glanced around the mats, back at her, slicked with sweat, bruises not yet healed from her last run-in and juiced up on endorphins. Yeah, he wanted answers, but he wouldn’t hurt her to get them. “I don’t think that’s such a good—”

“Scared?”

The look of utter confidence across her face stopped him. “No, I just—”

She took a step back and held out her hands. “How bad do you want your answers, Maxwell? Gimme your best shot.”

He wasn’t going to actually do this, was he?

The smug spark in her eye answered his question. Before he thought better of it, he was toeing off his shoes and sliding out of his jacket.

“The gun, too,” she said as he tossed his coat on the counter along the far wall. “I don’t want you to get shot again.”

He glanced back at her as he removed his shoulder harness and set his firearm on the counter as well, refusing to rub the scar on his shoulder where he’d been shot three months before when he’d gone looking for his sister in Florida. Hailey had been there then as well. In fact, if it weren’t for Hailey, he might not have survived.
He remembered the panic in her voice when she’d found him left for dead, and the way she’d said his name—the only time he ever remembered hearing her say his first name—how sweet and sexy it had sounded on her lips. How he’d wanted to hear her say it again. But she hadn’t. Not when she’d sat with him at the hospital telling him stupid jokes when he’d been getting stitched up or when she’d kept him company on the way back to Florida. Even after they’d hung out and danced most of the night at Lisa and Rafe’s wedding, weeks later, she hadn’t once called him by his first name again.

Which, in retrospect, was probably a good thing. What would he have done if she had? Just because she was the first person who’d made him feel something in almost a year, didn’t mean shit.

Except…he suddenly wanted to hear her say it. Needed to for reasons he couldn’t understand.

He walked back out on the mat, dressed in his jeans and T-shirt, watching as her eyes ran over him from head to toe. His blood warmed under that heated look, and he told himself if she wanted to play this game, he’d go along, but he wouldn’t hurt her. No answers were worth adding to her bruises.

“You’re looking a little overconfident there, Maxwell.”

“Only because I know you’ve got to be tired after your workout.”

Her eyes sparked. “I was only warming up. Show me what you’ve got.”

Neither of them moved. Just stared at each other. He felt like an idiot because he wasn’t about to flip her to her back and pin her to the mat. When it was clear they were at a standoff, he stepped toward her. “Look, Hailey—”

She had her hand around his wrist before he even saw her move. She was quick, and her pressure-point technique worked like a charm. As his wrist numbed and pain shot up his arm, she hooked her arm under his elbow, twisted his wrist around his back and slammed him into the mat, face first.

“That’s one for me,” she said, pressing his wrist into his back until his teeth knocked together from the pain. “Why did you walk away from me in Puerto Rico?”

“I didn’t—”

“Nice try.” She twisted his wrist up until he slapped his free hand against the mat to keep from screaming like a little girl.

“Alright! Goddammit. It was a crappy thing to do, okay?”

She let go of his wrist and stood quickly. “I know it was.”

He rolled to his back, wiggled his wrist to get the blood flowing again. Then sat up slowly and studied her across the mat.

Okay, this was a surprise. He’d known she was attracted to him, but he’d figured walking away from her after the wedding instead of after he slept with her would spare her some angst. Obviously he’d thought wrong. “I saved you from getting involved with me then. You should be thanking me instead of being pissed about it.”

“I am. Get up and let’s go again.”

That good ol’ instinct of his said he should do what he’d done back then and walk away from her now. But that irritating voice screaming, coward, forced him to his feet. And as he studied her carefully, he realized she’d led with her left. Come to think of it, when she’s been pounding the crap out of that bag, she’d been using her left hand as well. “Hailey, I really just want to talk to you about what happened at your cousin’s—”

“No talking. Give me your best move.”

He still wasn’t willing to fight her over this. He took a step forward to try to get her attention, and again she moved so fast he barely tracked it. One minute she was facing him, the next she was up close, her left arm sliding around his back, her torso twisting around and lowering so her hip hit him just beneath his center of gravity. Then all he felt was air as she threw him over her hip and he hit the mat with a resounding thud.

He groaned and rolled to his back. Okay, that one she hadn’t learned at the academy. And damn, she was stronger than she looked.

“That’s two for me, Maxwell.” She braced her hands on her knees and leaned down toward him with a self-satisfied expression. “Is that a habit of yours, going around leading women on, or are you just a prick?”

“Leading women on? Is that what you think I did?”

“Two for two. I’d say that’s exactly what you do. I think you like the power of it. I think you like seeing a woman get all worked up so you can drop her on her ass. Good fun, huh?”

Shit. “Hailey, I—”

“In case you forgot, I’m the one asking the questions. You’re the one getting your butt kicked.” She stepped back. “Go again.”

His blood pulsed as he pushed to his feet. Okay, he’d been wrong. She was ticked about what had happened in Puerto Rico and even more pissed about last night than he’d thought. Which meant only one thing—he’d gotten under her skin. Maybe as much as she’d gotten under his. That thought cooled him out a little. But his adrenaline surged when she charged out of nowhere, grabbed him by the shoulders, slid to the ground and kicked both legs out from under him.

He landed hard on his back, and this time saw stars. And oh, shit, there was something seriously wrong with him because he liked this. Liked having her hands on his body and loved being hurt by her.

She was on her feet before he could even catch his breath. But she was breathing hard. And she wasn’t quite as solid as she tried to appear. “Go home, Maxwell. I’ve got better things to do than toss you to the ground all night long. And as fun as this has been, I’m not interested anymore.”

She turned and got one step away before he kicked out, knocking her off balance. Her hands flew out in surprise, but before she hit the mat he was up, twisting around so he was at her front, going down with her so he took the brunt of the fall and she landed hard against his chest.

She immediately pushed off, but he rolled, pinning her beneath him. Her hands darted out, but he easily grabbed them and shackled them over her head. Then he hooked his feet around her legs so she couldn’t break free and kick him in the nuts as he stared down at her enraged face.

“Let me go,” she growled.

Each time she wiggled, it brought their hips into closer contact and sent more blood rushing to his groin. “Not a chance. I think a pin counts for three.”

“Go to hell.”

“I will. But not today. Question one. Are you sleeping with Billy Sullivan?”

***

Okay, here are some links for some other awesome excerpts!

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Leah Braemel
Jaci Burton
McKenna Jeffries
Moira Rogers
Taige Crenshaw
Victoria Janssen
Vivian Arend
TJ Michaels
Juliana Stone
Anya Bast
Lacey Savage
Eliza Gayle

Oy! I'm only a little late in posting this. Sorry!!! In my defense, I was out late last night listening to...


OMG, awesome AWESOME concert. We had such fun. I had no voice, couldn't sing along, but I could dance. And it was a total blast. Nickelback didn't sing the one song I LOVE from the new Dark Horse Album, so I've posted it in below. But they DID sing all my other favs, in addition to Highway to Hell (WOW is all I can say) and Friends in Low Places (hilarious!). Even the DH was rocking out with me.



Okay, now on to the post at hand. Today's Saturday Snippet is supposed to be something humorous. This is taken from STOLEN FURY (in case you haven't read it). One of my favorite scenes in the book.

Enjoy!

***
Excerpted from STOLEN FURY
Copyright Elisabeth Naughton (2009)
Dorchester Love Spell
ISBN: 978-0-505--52793-6

"God, you scared me.” Lisa pressed a hand against her heart. “Don’t do that.”

Rafe turned when she pushed past him into the apartment and dropped an armful of shopping bags on the leather couch in the middle of the room. She shrugged out of a winter white suede coat with fur trim he didn’t remember her leaving the apartment in earlier and tossed the garment over the back of a chair.

“Where the hell have you been?”

She looked up from the shopping bag she’d already started picking through. “Close the door. You’re letting in cold air.”

He blinked twice, unable to process her words. “What?”

“The door, Sullivan.”

When he didn’t respond, she frowned and stepped past him, closing it herself. “Winter. Cold air. Chicago. Ring a bell, Slick?” Shaking her head like he was a complete moron, she moved back to the bag.

Good God. The woman was a piece of work. He glanced down at his watch, a mixture of relief and confusion pumping through him. “You’ve been gone for five hours. You said you were shopping. What the hell happened?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were worried about me.” She lifted a white garment bag.

Worried about her? Damn right he was worried about her. After what had happened last night, they had no idea who was out there watching them. He’d been utterly stupid to let her walk out of the apartment alone, when any number of things could have happened to her. He’d realized that shortly after she’d left, and he’d been stressing about it since then.

“Don’t worry, Slick.” Her smart-assed voice dragged at his consciousness. “I didn’t run off and go after Tisiphone on my own. I know that’s all you were worried about.” She walked out of the room.

Oh, shit. The blood drained from his cheeks. That thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

He tossed his jacket across the couch and followed her into Shane’s bedroom. She still hadn’t explained where she’d been, and he wasn’t letting it go just yet. Not until he had some answers.

He stopped in the doorway, slipped his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and tried to settle the nerves still churning in his stomach before he laid into her again. His eyes took a careful sweep of the room. Her garment bag lay across Shane’s unmade bed. She stood at the closet pushing hangers and jackets aside, searching for God only knows what.

She’d changed. She wasn’t wearing the same ripped sweater and dirty jeans she’d left in that morning. A long-sleeved black-and-white horizontal-striped blouse highlighted her curves, dipped low at her cleavage and accentuated the swell of her breasts. Snug black slacks molded to her muscular legs, hugged her hips and perfect behind. Shiny black boots with thin heels covered her feet, and light-catching
silver drops hung from her ears.

She looked chic and stylish, and not a bit like the woman who’d walked out of here earlier, although that one had sent his blood soaring even before this little transformation. This one made his jeans grow tight. Even her hair seemed different, all tousled and wild from the wind, like she’d just rolled out of bed, like she’d just had a lover’s fingers run through her silky locks.

He straightened and coughed. Five hours. She’d been gone five freakin’ hours. She’d better not have been off with some other guy. Not when his insides were tied in knots because of her. Not when he’d spent the last hour going out of his mind because he didn’t know where she was.

“There it is,” she said, pulling a tux from the closet.

“Where have you been?”

She looked up at him, green eyes sparkling in the artificial light. Stepping forward, she held the jacket against his chest. “Should fit. You and Shane are about the same size.”

Fit? What the hell was she talking about? “What’s going on?”

She laid the jacket on the bed next to the white garment bag. “You and I are going to a party.”

“A what?”

She pushed past him, and he stood slack-jawed while she sashayed out to the living area, grabbed a couple of shopping bags and returned. “A party, Slick. As in, you and I both get dressed up and hobnob with the rich and famous.” She stopped in the doorway next to him, pinched his cheek. “I know it’ll be a stretch, but I think we can clean you up.”

She smelled like a sexy, exotic flower, looked like every man’s wet dream, and at the moment she was talking in complete riddles. He didn’t want to go to some party he couldn’t care less about. He didn’t want to do anything but discover what she’d been up to while she’d been gone. And tossing her onto that mussed bed so he could find something for that smart mouth of hers to do instead of flip sarcastic comments his way was sounding better and better by the minute. He turned away, rubbed a hand down his face and tried to refocus.

Holy hell, he was losing it. He needed to get a grip. Fast.

“You find anything on the Landau Gallery?”

Landau Gallery. Right. That’s where he was supposed to be focused. He tried to remember what he’d found earlier in his research, tried to get images of her writhing beneath him out of his mind and glanced back at her, where she stood next to the bed, pulling items from the bag. “Specializes in rare sculpture. High-end clients.” If he wasn’t going to get lucky, he might as well get serious. “Your brother mention the assistant who was murdered last week?”

She stiffened. “Yes. What else?”

It was clear she thought the murder might be related to their predicament. A thread of guilt slithered through him as he watched the color drain from her cheeks. Guilt for bringing her into this, for putting her life on the line, all for a few bucks. He raked a hand through his hair. “Not much. Doesn’t sound like they have many leads on the investigation. But the woman was definitely working on a new collection, and rumor has it she was more than his assistant.”

She glanced up. “His lover?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. He hasn’t admitted to it, but that’s the word going around.”

“Alan Landau’s unveiling that new collection tonight. I get the impression this little party is a way to get the public’s focus off her murder and back on his gallery. I think it’s our best chance to get close to him, find out what he’s up to. Get inside his place.”

“How do you plan to get into this little soiree?”

“I have connections.” A smile curled her sensuous lips, highlighting her sparkling teeth. “Had my assistant back in San Francisco arrange for two tickets.”

That explained the tux. And the men’s white dress shirt she pulled out of the bag. “I had to guess on your size. Hopefully it fits.”

Wonderful. Just what he wanted to do with his evening. He stepped forward with a frown and reached for the garment she handed him. His fingers slid over hers, and electricity zinged up his arm at the simple touch.

She wasn’t his type. Not by a long shot. He liked his women a lot more agreeable and a lot less mouthy. So how come every time she got close, he had trouble thinking straight? The woman had little use for him, had made that perfectly clear by ditching his ass all day and going off on her own. And the fact that that didn’t even seem to bother her only made him more frustrated and more determined to prove her wrong.

When she looked up, her eyes held his for a brief moment, shimmering gems that seemed to soften as he looked at her, as if they could read his thoughts, as if…as if they wanted him to prove her wrong. Eyes—to his utter surprise—that tugged on something deep in his chest and made the aggravation he was feeling slip away inch by
inch.

Yes. Keep looking at me like that, querida.

Warmth pooled in his stomach, and he felt the overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms so he could find out if her skin was as soft as he imagined, so he could make her remember what it had been like between them in Italy.

She tugged her hand back and looked down before he was ready to break the contact. And just like that, whatever gentleness he’d seen flicker in her eyes faded behind her iron shield.

He glanced down and fingered the cold cotton in his hands. So much for that idea. He must have read her wrong. Just like every other time they’d been in the same room together.

She went back to pulling items from the bag. “I would have been back sooner, but I had to wait to pick up the invite. Then I had to find something to wear for tonight. It’s a zoo out there. Took longer than I thought it would.”

She picked up a bag at her feet and handed it to him—not, he noticed, in any way apologizing. “Here. I got you a few things while I was out. You can pay me back later.”

He opened the bag and peered inside. Disbelief knit his brow as he lifted a black thong and held it up by one finger. A paper tag hung from one side. His eyes narrowed on what was obviously not a piece of female lingerie. “This had better be for you.”

When she didn’t respond, his gaze snapped to her. Head down, she continued to paw through a shopping bag. “Lisa?”

She huffed and finally looked up. “I didn’t have a lot of time, and I didn’t feel like guessing about your style.” She pinned him with a look. “For heaven’s sake, it’s just underwear, Sullivan.”

“Real men don’t wear thongs. And I’m not wearing this.” He held it out to her. The scrap wouldn’t cover anything. Especially not anything he had. No doubt she’d bought it just to get under his skin. The woman wasn’t happy unless she was taking cheap shots at him.

“Fine.” She lifted one elegant brow. “Wear your day-old dirty Jockeys. Or go commando. Not my problem.”

“What the hell’s going on in here?”

Shane’s voice from the doorway made them both turn.

Great.

Tension worked its way back into Rafe’s shoulders. Lisa’s brother’s gaze darted from the thong in his hand to Lisa to the rumpled bed and back to Rafe, and there was no missing the back-off-mysister- you-sexual-predator warning in his dark eyes.

Fucking fantastic.

Rafe crumpled the thong and tossed it into the bag in front of him. This day was ranking up there as one of his finest.

“Sullivan’s going to borrow your tux,” Lisa said. “We’re headed to the Landau Gallery’s unveiling tonight.”

“No one’s going commando in my tux.” Shane’s scrutinizing gaze darted to Rafe again.
Lisa’s sarcastic smile followed.

Holy hell. Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a long breath. Walking into that damn auditorium in Italy had been the biggest mistake of his life.

***
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Saturday Snippet - STOLEN SEDUCTION!

Today's Saturday Snippet topic is "First Touch". This is taken from STOLEN SEDUCTION, book three in the Stolen Trilogy, which releases Jan, 2010.

***

She heard laughter and music, glasses clanking and the sounds of ESPN’s SportsCenter from the bar when she stepped out into the darkened hallway. No Shane. Breathing easier, Hailey turned and ran smack into one very hard, very familiar chest.

“You made a wrong turn at Tallahassee, Officer Roarke.”

Heart thundering against her ribs, she looked up, thankful the hall was dark enough to camo her bruises, and saw that sexy lopsided almost-smile of his. What would it look like at full grin?

“I…” Thump, thump, thump. In an instant she got lost in those smoldering eyes just like she’d done three months ago. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.” Shane’s voice was as soft as a whisper and as dangerous as a lover’s first touch. And he was standing so close she could feel the heat radiating off his muscular body and smell the beer lingering on his tongue. “You are the last person I expected to see in Chicago in January. What are you doing here?”

Oh, man. How to answer that one?

She should really step back. She had enough problems already to last a lifetime. Her arm ached, her face hurt, and her adrenaline was suddenly back in the out-of-this-world range. But just like she’d done in Puerto Rico at that wedding, she pushed aside the rational side of her brain that said she was flirting with disaster where he was concerned. “I’m here for work. Not here. Um, in Lake Geneva, I mean. But there were a few errands I needed to run in the city.”

Liar.

Had she really thought seeing him tonight was a good idea? Oh, good God. She was seriously losing it.

“Errands, like, hanging out in a dive bar all by yourself?” The sparkle in his eyes said he was baiting her and she should be careful.

And like a fool, she ignored it.

“No. That was an afterthought. Sorta.” And a bad one. Her palms grew sweaty.

“An afterthought,” he said, eyeing her carefully. He shot a thumb over his shoulder behind him. “Shoulda been your first thought with this crowd. What kind of business does a Key West patrol officer have up here?”

“None. I mean, a patrol officer doesn’t. But I do. I’m taking a break. Leave of absence, really.” Lovely. Now she couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. If that wasn’t a sign she needed to bail, nothing was.

“Why?”

His sister must not have filled him in on what had happened with her family, thinking he wouldn’t care. And why that bothered her so much at the moment was as much of a mystery as was the fact she hadn’t cut and run already.

“My father died.”

“What? When?”

“Two weeks ago. Heart attack.”

“Oh, geez. I’m sorry.”

She had to avert her gaze because the concern pooling in his chocolate eyes was suddenly too much to deal with. And because even though she and her father hadn’t seen eye-to-eye recently, there’d been a time, ages ago, when they’d been close. The memory of that stayed with her, and it hurt, just a little, just beneath the breastbone, whenever she thought of never seeing him again.

“If there’s anything I can do—”

She waved a hand and pulled her gaze from his strong chest. “Thanks. No. Really, I’m fine. It wasn’t a complete surprise. His health hasn’t been good lately. He asked me to help out with the company about six weeks ago. I’m only staying on until a new CEO can be appointed.”

Double liar.

“So what are you doing in Lake Geneva?”

“Oh. Um. We’re midway through construction on a new resort there. Unfortunately it’s way behind schedule. With everything surrounding my father’s funeral and such, this is the first chance I’ve had to get up here to check things out.”

He nodded slowly, and again she had to look away because those eyes of his were just too much to deal with. They made her think of dancing and laughing and his hands on her hips, his body pressed up against hers, his breath fanning her cheek and all the incredible places they could have gone that warm night in Puerto Rico if he hadn’t walked away.

Her cheeks heated at the memory, and she took a small step back to break the spell she was slipping under. She’d fantasized about him for the last three months, but the reality was, if he’d been interested, she’d have heard from him before now. The fact she hadn’t was what she needed to remember. That and the fact the very last thing she should be thinking about right now was a guy.

“I should get going,” she said.

“What? You can’t leave yet. I just got here. Let me buy you a drink.”

A drink? With him? And those sexy smoldering eyes? Ah, no.

“I can’t,” she said quickly. “I have to drive back to Wisconsin tonight before the roads freeze much more. And besides, I’ve reached my Cubs limit for the night. In fact, I think I’ve reached it until at least the playoffs.”

He chuckled then, a smooth, rich sound that vibrated all the way through the floor and into her toes. “It’s kind of a religion around here.”

“Ah, yeah. I got that. Spring training hasn’t even started.”

“Pitchers report in two weeks. Can’t get here soon enough.” He grinned then, and oh, man, yeah. That smile at full force was too much. She had to glance toward the door to keep from staring. Before she could figure out a way to say goodbye, he touched her at the elbow. “How about coffee?”

“Oh, I—”

“Come on, don’t say no. My sister Keira gave me this espresso machine for Christmas that I haven’t figured out how to use yet. This is the perfect excuse to break it out. My place is just around the corner.”

His place? Oh, holy hell, no. That was a monumentally bad idea. “I shouldn’t—”

His fingers tightened on her elbow, and she looked up to see that mischievous spark in his eyes all over again. The same one she’d seen in Key Biscayne. The same one she’d seen in Puerto Rico at that wedding. The same one she’d dreamed of way longer than was smart, and which had driven her here tonight when she should be safe in Lake Geneva right this minute, licking her wounds. “I don’t bite, Hailey. And besides, even if I did, we both know you could kick my ass anytime you wanted.”

Their eyes held, and she felt her lips slowly curve at what he was obviously remembering. The night he’d shown up in Key Biscayne to find his sister. Hailey had been there and thought he was an intruder. She’d taken him down hard to the patio, disarmed this beefy Chicago homicide detective and started reading him his rights before Lisa had come barreling out of the dark and announced he wasn’t a peeping Tom, but her brother.

“I guess one cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt anything,” she heard herself say before she thought better of it.

His grin widened. “Quick and painless. I promise.”

Her heart thumped. She seriously doubted that.

But damn if she wasn’t thinking how sweet a little pain, the likes of which only he could provide, would go along well with some espresso.

***
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