Now out…
Some scars cut right to the heart.
Three years after her divorce, Chaili Bennett is over her ex. Her only problem now? Of the few men she’s dated since, no one “gets” her. Not like Marc Archer—a man who’s never seen her as more than a friend.
Marc Archer needs a date for a last-minute charity event, and he needs it fast. Not that women aren’t throwing themselves at his world-famous face and body, but sometimes it’s less messy—as in less personal—to use his sister Shera’s escort service.
The last woman on earth Marc expects to see in his sister’s office is Chaili. There’s something different about her, but nothing pleases him more when Shera sets them up. That simple date quickly evolves into much more as they both discover the other fills a deep, secret need they’ve shared with no one else.
Though Chaili insists one night is all she wants, Marc isn’t walking away now. Not until he discovers what put the shadows in her eyes. And the scars on her soul.
EXCERPT!
“You wanted to kiss me stupid, baby girl. Have at it.”
Cupping his face in her hands, she eased up onto her toes, angling her head just a little as she pressed her mouth to his. Hmmm. The way he tasted. He was…yeah. Just amazing. Just like his voice. Whiskey-soaked addiction. Flicking her tongue against his lips, she groaned as he opened for her. Leaning in closer, she nibbled on his lower lip, nipped the upper one and then pushed inside.
He shuddered against her, but remained unmoving, impassive.
If it wasn’t for the way she could feel his chest rising and falling against her, so ragged and harsh, she might think he was unaffected. If it wasn’t for the way his body felt rigid, heavy with tension and need, she might think he wasn’t as aroused as she was.
One drugged kiss after another—now the need pulsed inside her, a vicious ache.
When she pulled away, she paused and rubbed her cheek against his, smiling at the way his unshaven skin rasped against the softness of her own. Shooting a quick look at his eyes, she shivered a little when she saw that he was watching her, his gaze so focused, so intense.
She pressed a kiss to his chin, down his neck. Along the sleek muscled lines of his chest. “You know, for a piano player, you sure are cut,” she teased. “What do you do, lift the pianos or something?”
“I chase after smart-mouthed web designers,” he muttered, swatting her on the ass.
“I don’t think that would make you look quite like this,” she said, sighing as she smoothed her hands over his chest. The silver hoop in his nipple was gone, replaced by a barbell. Tugging on it, she watched as a fine tremor racked his body. “I like this.”
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