Saturday, June 29, 2013

My Sexy Saturday -- BODY HEAT

I'm trying something new and am participating in a blog hop today. I hope I do this right! Thanks to Lynn Crain and her My Sexy Saturday site.

I am posting 7 sexy paragraphs today from my latest release, BODY HEAT. Here is the set-up for the scene:

All Blaire Kincaid really wants is to make her father proud. So far, though, her track record isn’t so good. That’s why she takes the case from Reva MacGlenary, one of the richest women in the area, to find Reva’s long lost nephew. The advance she gave her and the promise of more to come, should Blaire be successful in finding the black sheep family member, would go a long way on getting her new Private Investigator business up and going. So, using her newly polished P.I. skillset, she heads out to find the long missing Darian MacGlenary.

But Darian doesn’t want to be found. And when he sees her traipsing up his Appalachian holler, he wonders what a girl like her is doing in his neck of the woods. The burly and bearded mountain man has tucked himself far into the backwoods on purpose—he doesn’t want to see anyone. Man. Woman. Especially not a woman. But coming, she is, and for him.

When a chilled and ill Blaire arrives, followed by an early winter snowstorm, things heat up. Darian battles not only the ghosts of his past looming large in the small cabin, but also the woman who haunts every hot and bothered night they spend together within its four walls.

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The following passage is the last 7 paragraphs of Chapter One....

He bristled upon hearing her mumble the man’s name in her semi-conscious state. He might have to endure the invasion of this woman into his home and his life—if only brief at that—but he didn’t want to have to endure the moaning of a woman for her man while she was here.

Darian ran a hand under the blanket to check the condition of her legs and feet and knew they were still entirely too cold. He raced to the fire, snatched the heated towels off the chairs, and crossed the room once more. He peeled her covers back long enough to wrap the warmed towels around her feet and legs and then replaced them.

She coughed again, still shivering, and Darian looked to her face. He didn’t want to do it, not really, but he knew he was going to have to. Needed to. It might mean her life. She had to get warm. He had to bring her temperature up.

Body heat.

Darian removed his heavy flannel shirt and laid it on the foot of the bed. His boots came next—he left his socks on—then he removed his own denim jeans. Stepping a few steps away to a pile of laundry on top of an ancient chest of drawers, Darian picked up a pair of insulated long johns and put them on. As he padded back to the bed, he still reasoned with himself that it was the right thing to do. Then as he looked into her pitifully beautiful face, he knew. It was the right thing to do. And she would thank him for it when she woke up. Right?

Darian slipped between the covers, pulled her cold and shivering body next to his, and wrapped his arms around her upper body, turning her into him, searing his warm naked chest against her frigid breasts as he tucked her into the nest he made for her within his arms; then he threw one leg over her towel-covered legs, pulling her even closer into the warmth his body offered.

Yes, he thought, as he drew in the strawberry essence of her hair, she would thank him in the morning.
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