Rider's Kiss

“This is going to sound a little strange, but I tracked you down from your license plate.” He quickly held both hands in the air. “I swear I’m not a weirdo or anything. I promise.”

She hesitated before saying, “Seems to me like that’s exactly the type of thing a weirdo would say.”

He could see he was getting absolutely nowhere, and with good reason. He’d shown up on the woman’s porch, for Christ’s sake. A total stranger. What the hell did he think would happen? “Look,” he said, attempting to allay her fears, “I know how this must seem, but I really only came here to thank you. I’d be dead if not for your quick thinking.”

“You’re welcome, but I—” Suddenly, she shook so bad Jensen was afraid she’d lose her balance.

He caught her beneath the elbow. “You’re obviously very sick. Is there someone I can call?”

She closed her eyes tight. “No, really. I just need to lie down.”

“At least let me get you inside,” he offered, but she only squinted up at him as if he had some nefarious plan. “You can trust me.”

A few seconds ticked by before she handed him the key to her front door. Once Jensen had the door open, he asked, “The couch?”

When she nodded, he put his arm around her waist

and led her across the room. She collapsed onto it and muttered, “I feel completely ridiculous.”

“Don’t. I’m glad I could help.” Jensen spotted a throw on the back of the couch. He yanked it off and laid it over her, but she still continued to tremble. He sat down beside her and laid his palm on her forehead. God, she was burning up. “You’re really feverish. Are you sure you don’t want to call a doctor?”

“What’s your name?” she asked as she stared at him in wonder. Jensen couldn’t help noticing that she had the most incredible shade of green eyes. Jensen had the crazy notion she could see right into the very heart of him.

“Jensen Kershaw,” he answered. “I work in an office building downtown near where you saved me.”

“Marquetta Hayes.” She smiled and closed her eyes. “There, now we’re not strangers,” she mumbled as she drifted off to sleep, her body still clearly racked with chills. When he started to get up, she whimpered, and a sudden spurt of protectiveness filled him. Jensen sat at the other end of the couch and watched over her.

The sun was going down before her fever seemed to finally break. He yawned and glanced at his watch, surprised to realize he’d been sitting there for a good two hours. She was fine now, and he knew he should leave. Instead, he closed his eyes. Just a few minutes, then he’d go.

Marquetta raised her head, instantly aware of a heavy weight against her calves. She scanned the length of the couch and found Jensen Kershaw. His brawny arm rested on her legs and his head was against the back of the couch. Asleep? He snored, and Marquetta frowned. What on earth? The man was a total stranger, and yet he acted as if he’d crashed on her couch hundreds of times.

Pushing his sexy ass out the door ought to get his attention, but some inner devil stopped her. He was sound asleep and completely at her mercy. Tempted beyond reason, Marquetta took the opportunity to look him over. Like, really look him over. Who knew when she would have another chance? Because there was no doubt she’d soon be tossing his gorgeous six-foot-plus frame out of her house and her life. For good.

He wasn’t classically handsome. Jensen Kershaw had more of a rugged, weathered look about him. As if he’d been through the very bowels of hell and had come out with a scratch or two. She took a moment to investigate him further.

His short dark hair framed the rough angles of his face. The five o’clock shadow covering his chin and jawline was sexy as all get-out. Still, it was his mouth that drew her attention. Not even an artist could draw a mouth as lush as his. Not straight and thin, but almost girlish in its fullness. In particular, though, was the little curl of his top lip. Intrigued, Marquetta wondered how a man could come by such a soft mouth surrounded by such a harsh face. In all, his features shouldn’t have worked when they were put together, but somehow on him they did. Very well, in fact.

She drifted her gaze down over his strong shoulders, then his biceps. She noticed a string of tribal tattoos that traveled the length of his arm, only to disappear beneath his shirt sleeve. She wondered if there were more on his chest and was tempted to take a peek. His ripped abs underneath the tight T-shirt didn’t escape her notice either. He was so hard and muscular all over that Marquetta nearly melted right on the spot. But he was a man, which meant he was trouble with a capital T. And too damn good-looking for her peace of mind. But before she could stop herself, Marquetta’s gaze moved south, over the bulge in his faded jeans. He was completely and unabashedly turned on. When her gaze landed on his face again, Jensen was no longer asleep. Instead, he was wide awake and staring at her as if she were lunch. The sneak. Just how long had he been watching her watch him?

“Don’t stop on my account,” he growled.

Well, shit. Marquetta stood and pointed toward the front door. “Leave.”

The best chef wins…but their hearts could lose the prize.

Cravings

© 2014 Dee Carney

Close to the Heat, Book 2

Chef Lee Solomon is so going down.

How dare he call a tow truck on Chef Ginger Danielle’s customers just because they might have been parked in front of his restaurant while dining at hers? So what if he’s gorgeous, successful, and a master of gourmet cuisine, it doesn’t mean he can do as he pleases.

When he suggests they settle their differences with an underground cooking competition, Ginger is all in. Her feel-good comfort food against his fancy fare? Game on!

Lee has tried to ignore how badly he wants to see Ginger in his bed, but he’s finished fighting it. Their antagonism—and their mutual lust—is at an all-time high; when it comes to this particular battle, he has no intention of losing. He’s set on seducing the petite chef, no matter what the cost to his profession.