It's September. Fall is in the air (although it's supposed to be 90 degree in the northeast US this week). And baseball playoffs are fast approaching. Want to get in the mood for the playoffs? Not quite ready for baseball season to be over? Looking for some sizzle to warm up the cool fall nights?
Book 2 in my Knights of Passion series, Love From Left Field, comes out in one week - Sept 13, 2016.
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2cjkEK2
From Love from Left Field:
She walked down the hallway and saw a light under the office door she had assigned to Lucas. Maybe he had left the light on. She hesitated for a moment, but curiosity, and the desire to avoid mountains of work, had her feet moving towards the closed door, dread dogging her steps, unavoidable like a natural disaster.
She opened the door and Lucas looked up from his laptop monitor. She didn't want to notice how tired he looked, the way his sandy blond hair was messed up, as if fingers had run through it multiple times. His suit jacket was tossed over the back of a chair and he'd unbuttoned the top two buttons on the shirt.
He studied her coolly, almost as if he had expected her, his gaze steady and expectant.
She flushed and took a step back, fumbling for the door handle. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."
He stood, his Southern manners not completely gone. "You didn't." A slight pause. "How's your father?"
Tears dampened her eyes and she blinked them away. "He's hanging on. The bypass went well. He's resting comfortably in ICU." She hesitated. "Do you care?"
He frowned and walked around the desk, coming over to her. "I never wanted anything to happen to him."
Her shoulders slumped, lack of sleep, too much caffeine, and too much stress suddenly overwhelming her. The tears that threatened earlier in the conversation now spilled over and ran down her cheeks. Awkwardly, Lucas gathered her in his arms, pulling her close and stroking his hands up and down her back. He rested his chin on her head and let her cry, and the emotions of the past several days emerged in one cathartic instant.
Several minutes later, Miranda returned to her senses and found Lucas's shirt soaked through with her tears. He still held her close, his warmth and strength soothing her aching soul. Her arms had wrapped around his waist without realizing it, holding him close. She picked her head up and stared up at him, his blue eyes looking down at her with compassion and something else.
He lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers and a whole different set of emotions exploded within her. Heat spread from her stomach and throughout her body; desire a steady throb in her throat. His lips were warm and soft, not pressuring, but for one moment, she clung to him as a safety raft in the swirling chaos of her life, holding on to the escape even for a moment.
A low moan shook her back to reality and she pulled back, staring up at him, slightly dazed. He lifted his head, still holding her arms, keeping her steady.
"Why did you do that?"
He looked as confused as she felt. "I don't know. I just needed to kiss you."
She released the death grip she had on his forearms, grasping the chair with one hand, still not confident in her stability. "Well, we shouldn't do that again."
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because we work together and my father is in the hospital in intensive care after suffering a major heart attack. I highly doubt kissing his biggest enemy should be on my list of things to do."