TAYLOR DEARBORN has resolved to swear off men for a year. They're back-stabbing SOBs. ZACK ORTEGA is back in the States looking for some serious sexual R&R before returning to work. When they're snowbound together in a remote cabin, who will be the first to undergo a Meltdown?
Excerpt
Taylor woke up to Dudly DoRight's smelly doggy kisses and urgent whining.
Half awake, she glanced out the window. It was barely daylight. "Shhhhh." She tried to quiet Dudly's whining without success.
She crawled out of bed and shivered. All she had on was a pair of boxers and a tank top, usually plenty to wear. She padded down stairs and went to the front door to let Dudly out. She turned the knob and pushed. It didn't budge. What was up? She pushed aside the sheers covering the French doors and looked out.
Snow! Lots and lots of snow!
Drifted against the cabin, it was nearly two feet deep. Enough to block the door. "Son of a bitch!"
"Huh?" a male voice mumbled from upstairs.
In her haste to let the dog out, she'd forgotten her unexpected guest. Fortunately, she was adequately covered-more or less. At least more that the first time she'd seen him. Or more accurately, when he'd seen her, more of her than most men saw at the first meeting.
Dudly whined again, a little more urgently.
She hustled to the kitchen door, on the opposite side of the house. If the gods were with her, that wouldn't be blocked. After a struggle, she was able to push it open. And saw the problem. Nearly a foot of snow had fallen overnight. And was still falling, a white curtain that fuzzed the trees at the edge of the back yard.
Dudly woofed excitedly and launched himself into the snow. Taylor closed the door against the chilly air. And shivered in the cold house. "Damn and double damn!"
"What's up?" The sleepy male voice behind her sent shivers through her. Not the cold kind, the good kind.
No, not the good kind, she reminded herself. She wanted nothing to do with shivers and men. All that did was get her into hot water.
She swung around and realized she was Jacuzzi deep in trouble. The tousled black hair, sleepy brown eyes, a bare-chest-she-wanted-to-get-her-hands-all-over kind of trouble. Low-slung pj bottoms that needed to be slid down and off kind of trouble.
She turned away so he wouldn't see her drooling and automatically headed over to the coffee pot. "It's snowing." Her voice came out sounding rusty. Maybe he'd think it was her morning voice, but she knew differently. It was her horny-as-hell bedroom voice.
"And that's a problem, why?"