Sailor's Knot #ReleaseDate and #CoverReveal

I am thrilled to announce the release date for Book Three in the Pirates at Heart Series titled SAILOR'S KNOT. March 22nd, the Logan family saga continues!

Add to your wishlist: http://www.ellorascave.com/sailor-s-knot.html

 

Blurb:

The year is 2037 and the next generation of the Logan family pirates have taken over the helm of The Yellow Rose. Running bootleg booze and smuggling runners from the Reformed States of America into the Republic of Texas, business couldn’t be better …that is if brothers Marcus and Nathaniel don’t kill each other in the process.

Captain Marcus Logan is serious, brooding and haunted, carrying a torch for his first mate, Amelie. Nathaniel—the resident party boy—is none of those things, but somehow they’d made their differences work for them until recently. When the tall, leggy blonde, Captain Ruby Delaney, is a guest aboard The Rose, she turns Nathaniel’s head and stirs up all sorts of trouble, not the least of which is winding up in Marcus’ bed one drunken night. This ill-advised one night stand ignites a love quadrangle so intertwined that the phrase “it’s complicated” doesn’t begin to define this sailor’s knot.

A Romantica® futuristic erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Excerpt: 

Humiliation and admiration flooded Marcus with equal measure. Ruby was far craftier than he’d given her credit for. His earlier words to Nate echoed in his mind. He’d accused his brother of ineptitude when Marcus himself couldn’t tie a restraint that could hold her.

Shaking his head, he passed her the bottle. “Glad I could entertain you.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. I’m still trapped here.” She ran a hand over his sheets, leaning forward and spreading her legs a bit. “In your cabin.”

Bad girl. He arched an eyebrow. Usually he’d be immune to such an obvious overture, but in his current state, she was hard to ignore.

His cock stirred at the thought of her in his bed. Maybe it was the whiskey or maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t had a woman in… How long had it been? Several months at least. A smile crossed his lips. That barmaid in Belize. He usually steered clear of one-night stands, but she’d been so insistent, hadn’t she?

And his last relationship before that, over a year prior. It had lasted a couple of weeks at best. Sticking around wasn’t his forte. Not since— No, he wouldn’t think about Amelie anymore. Not with a beautiful blonde next to him. For once, couldn’t he do what any man would do in this situation? For once, couldn’t he give in to his base desires instead of suppressing them, struggling to keep them under control?

“You’re gorgeous when you smile.” Ruby intruded on his thoughts.

Marcus stared at her, weighing his options. Her full breasts rose and fell with every breath, her voluptuous thighs grazing past his leg as she shifted to make herself more comfortable. She smelled like his soap but there was an undercurrent of her own scent. Rich and sweet. He wanted to taste her.

“Are you flirting with me?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Obviously.” She licked her lips, meeting his hungry stare.

Scooting closer, she pressed her breasts to his arm. He dipped his head a little to the right. Her quick exhalations skimmed his cheek. She wouldn’t run away, disappear at the crucial moment. Quite the opposite. With one finger trailing beneath his chin, she drew him nearer, daring him to kiss her.

She was offering herself up to be had, for him to take her. And why not? There was no one waiting at home for him. He was a free man with a cock so hard it hurt. And this woman—a dangerous and wild woman—wanted him. At least for the night. And he wanted her. Hell, who wouldn’t?

He cradled the back of her neck, kissing her hard. “If you steal from me again, I’ll kill you.”

“I wouldn’t cross you again. I know when I’m licked.”

Pushing her back onto the mattress, he nipped at her ear. “I haven’t even started licking you yet.”

She laughed, wrapping a leg around him.

http://www.ellorascave.com/sailor-s-knot.html

Haven't read books one and two? Find LANDLOCKED and SMUGGLER'S BLUES here: http://www.ellorascave.com/series/pirates-at-heart.html

http://www.ellorascave.com/sailor-s-knot.html

Bad Boy Revisited

As I mentioned in Monday's post, I'm hard at work on the sequels to LANDLOCKED. In book two, SMUGGLER'S BLUES, Captain Brett Logan Jr. finds himself a rebel without a cause. The war between the Reformers and the Resistance is over. With no contraband to smuggle and no guns to run, Logan spends his days in domestic bliss with his wife Kate and their sons, Marcus and Nathaniel. Though he has everything a man could ask for, Logan is restless, yearning for the days of adventure and death-defying escapades. When his former first mate, Jacques shows up with a risky business proposal, it's an offer Logan can't--and won't--refuse. Inevitably Logan gets himself in a bind with the law and it's up to Kate to save him, but amidst her outrage and anger, they just might find the spark that's been missing from their relationship for years. Hunted and on the run, Brett and Kate rekindle their romance and rediscover their passion for each other and living outside the law.

Here's a sneak peek at SMUGGLER'S BLUES:

“Captain Logan,” a voice boomed to his left drawing his attention. A corpulent man who was sweating bullets through his velvet waistcoat held out a pudgy, sausage-fingered hand.

Logan took it and firmly pumped it twice before letting go. “You must be Mr. Boudreaux. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” The man’s eyes held a wolfish gleam, one Logan was not entirely comfortable with. 

“And please, call me Big Daddy. Everyone does.”

Big Daddy’s hand came to rest on Logan’s shoulder, a toothy grin wrinkled the fat man’s veined cheeks.

Removing the offending hand, Logan shook his head. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll stick with Mr. Boudreaux.”

“Daddy issues?” The man laughed and snorted.

“You could say that.”

“You can call me whatever you like, just don’t call me late for dinner.”

Logan forced a smile on his face.

“Shall we adjourn to my private booth?”

Leaning over to Jacques, Logan spoke in his first mate’s ear. “If I’m not back in an hour, come rescue me.”

“Oui, mon capitaine. “ Jacques threw back a shot.

Logan followed the fat man. “Mr Boudreaux, how is it that you run such an obvious nightclub in the RSA without getting raided and shut down?”

“Captain, I run six such clubs. All it takes is a lot of friends and a lot of bribes.”

Well that made sense. Logan had bought himself out of a scrape or two, but this…this club offered every manner of excess and debauchery. It flew in the face of all the Reformers supposedly held sacred. The body was a temple, sobriety, piety and chastity being their own reward. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Judging from the crowd, there were plenty of Reformed Americans more than ready to befoul their temples.

Big Daddy led the way upstairs to a loft space that held a small bar manned by a bartender who stood at the ready, an enormous horseshoe shaped booth and was staffed by five of the most stunning showgirls Logan had ever seen. The redhead in the group fluttered her fingers at him, a flirtatious hello. Logan dipped his head, trying to be polite.

“I see you like my private stock.” Big Daddy huffed, scooting in to the booth.

“To be honest, it’s all a bit rich for my blood.” Logan took a seat on the opposite end of the horseshoe.

“Is it now? I must’ve gotten some bad information. I’ve heard Captain Loco Logan is quite the wild man.”

The flirty showgirl set a double shot of bourbon in front of Logan and some sort of pink mixed drink in front of Big Daddy. She stood next to Logan, bouncing to the strains of music that filtered up from downstairs.

“It’s true, I used to be, but I’m just an old married man now.”

“Hell, live a little son.” Big Daddy motioned for the girl to get closer to Logan which she hurried to do. “Just cuz you’re on a diet don’t mean you can’t sample the menu.”

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

The man’s snorting laughter alone made Logan feel dirty, but the girl’s hand skittering up his thigh made him feel even worse. How old was she? Maybe eighteen or nineteen at best?

He caught her hand, shaking his head. “Young lady, I am old enough to be your father.”

“This is Mabel. She has daddy issues too so it’s all right, Captain. What happens at The Tailfeather—”

“Would get me kicked out of my own house and rightfully so.” Logan interrupted. “What’s say we get down to business, Mr. Boudreaux.”

“What ever you’d like, Captain.” With a flick of his hand, Big Daddy dismissed the girl. “Just trying to show you a good time.”

“I get that, but like I said, I’m just on old married man these days.” Logan took a pull from his glass. The smooth bourbon warmed his chest.

“Gotcha.” Big Daddy took a sip of his drink. “So here’s what’s on the table.”

The man went on to detail the complicated supply chain from his distillery in Republic occupied Gulfland to the seven clubs he owned in the RSA. All were located along the Gulf Coast between New Orleans and Tampa. He’d had a steady source for two years until last month when said importer ran afoul of a Reformer AK47.

“The work isn’t without its risks,” Big Daddy drawled, “which is why I’m willing to pay good money.”

“What’s good money to you?”

“Twenty thousand Republic credits a month.”

“Fifty.”

“Oh you’ll have to do a lot more for me than run moonshine for that kind of money, Captain. Twenty-five.”

“Thirty-five and I’ll make the drops to each of your clubs. That way you don’t have to move the stuff over land.”

Big Daddy mulled it over. “Fine. Thirty-five…if my shipments are on time and in tact.”

“Don’t worry about that. I run a tight crew. They’ll be no barrels that come up missing.”

“I’ve heard that about you. I’ve also heard you go where other men fear to tread. You come highly recommended.”

“I get the job done.”

“Then we have an agreement.” Big Daddy held out his hand. Logan shook it brusquely, releasing as quickly as he could.

“I’ll need first month’s payment up front.”

“Mabel, bring Daddy his briefcase from the safe and another round of drinks. We have some celebrating to do.”

A half-hour later Logan descended the stairs, a brand new duffel bag stuffed with Republic credits in tow.

Jacques greeted him with a sly smile. “Is that what I think it is?”

“It is…and then some. I got the motherfucker for thirty-five.”

His grin broadening, Jacques crowed, “Laissez les bons temps roulez.”

“Yeah, except let’s get the hell out of here and to a real bar.” Logan settled his black Stetson on his head and sauntered toward the door.

___________________________________________________
Look for SMUGGLER'S BLUES releasing later this year at Ellora's Cave

Haven't read book one LANDLOCKED?

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Twitter - @cindyjacks

Sneak Peek at SMUGGLER'S BLUES

Captain Brett Logan from LANDLOCKED is back...and badder than ever!

I'm thrilled to announce a new series with Ellora's Cave titled PIRATES AT HEART. Book two SMUGGLER'S BLUES brings back Captain Brett Logan Jr. and his lovely bride Kate. Book three, SAILOR'S KNOT introduces the new generation of Logan pirates, Brett's sons--Marcus and Nathaniel. Here's a sneak peek at book two. Hope you enjoy the unedited excerpt of my work-in-progress! Stay tuned for covers and release dates!

Excerpt:

From the shine on the hardwood floor, Logan could tell his boot strikes would’ve echoed through the renovated warehouse had it been empty, but the place was far from empty. A gleaming hardwood bar ran the length of the far wall, patrons crammed around it waving whatever payment they had available at the overworked bartenders. Polished brass fixtures hung from regular intervals along the walls which also bore a blood red brocade accented with a wooden chair rail and wainscoting. At least Logan believe it was called wainscoting, but what the hell did he know about interior decorating?

As for the entertainment, it was comprised of showgirls strutting around in elaborate costumes—a topic about which Captain Brett Logan Jr was well verse, at least before he’d met Kate. They wore bejeweled bikinis with ruffled bras and peacock-like feathers hung from their plump backsides. Which made sense, the speakeasy was called The Tailfeather. One slinked by him, offering a private dance, but he declined as he fiddled with his wedding band.

The live band struck up an old Disco number from last millennium and the girls began to shimmy and gyrate in ways that were impossible to ignore. He smiled to himself, letting his gaze roam over the jiggling mounds of flesh for just a second, then turned away. He might be married, but he wasn’t dead from the waist down.

“Captain Logan,” a voice boomed to his left drawing his attention. A corpulent man who was sweating bullets through his velvet waistcoat held out a pudgy, sausage-fingered hand.

Logan took it and firmly pumped it twice before letting go. “You must be Mr. Boudreaux. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” The man’s eyes held a wolfish gleam, one Logan was not entirely comfortable with. 

“And please, call me Big Daddy. Everyone does.”

Big Daddy’s hand came to rest on Logan’s shoulder, a toothy grin wrinkled the fat man’s veined cheeks.

Removing the offending hand, Logan shook his head. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll stick with Mr. Boudreaux.”

“Daddy issues?” The man laughed and snorted.

“You could say that.”

“You can call me whatever you like, just don’t call me late for dinner.”

Logan forced a smile on his face.

“Shall we adjourn to my private booth?”

Leaning over to Jacques, Logan spoke in his first mate’s ear. “If I’m not back in an hour, come rescue me.”

“Oui, mon capitaine. “ Jacques threw back a shot.

Logan followed the fat man. “Mr Boudreaux, how is it that you run such an obvious nightclub in the RSA without getting raided and shut down?”

“Captain, I run six such clubs. All it takes is a lot of friends and a lot of bribes.”

Well that made sense. Logan had bought himself out of a scrape or two, but this…this club offered every manner of excess and debauchery. It flew in the face of all the Reformers supposedly held sacred. The body was a temple, sobriety, piety and chastity being their own reward. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Big Daddy led the way upstairs to a loft space that held a small bar manned by a bartender who stood at the ready, an enormous horseshoe shaped booth and was staffed by five of the most stunning showgirls Logan had ever seen. The redhead in the group fluttered her fingers at him, a flirtatious hello. Logan dipped his head, trying to be polite.

“I see you like my private stock.” Big Daddy huffed, scooting in to the booth.

“To be honest, it’s all a bit rich for my blood.” Logan took a seat on the opposite end of the horseshoe.

“Is it now? I must’ve gotten some bad information. I’ve heard Captain Loco Logan is quite the wild man.”

The flirty showgirl set a double shot of bourbon in front of Logan and some sort of pink mixed drink in front of Big Daddy. She stood next to Logan, bouncing to the strains of music that filtered up from downstairs.

“It’s true, I used to be, but I’m just an old married man now.”

“Hell, live a little son.” Big Daddy motioned for the girl to get closer to Logan which she hurried to do. “Just cuz you’re on a diet don’t mean you can’t sample the menu.”

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

The man’s snorting laughter alone made Logan feel dirty, but the girl’s hand skittering up his thigh made him feel even worse. How old was she? Maybe eighteen or nineteen at best?

He caught her hand, shaking his head. “Young lady, I am old enough to be your father.”

“This is Mabel. She has daddy issues too so it’s all right, Captain. What happens at The Tailfeather—”

“Would get me kicked out of my own house and rightfully so.” Logan interrupted. “What’s say we get down to business, Mr. Boudreaux.”

“What ever you’d like, Captain.” With a flick of his pasty hand, Big Daddy dismissed the girl. “Just trying to show you a good time.”

“I get that, but like I said, I’m just on old married man these days.” Logan took a pull from his glass. The smooth bourbon warmed his chest.

“Gotcha.” Big Daddy took a sip of his drink. “So here’s what’s on the table.”

The man went on to detail the complicated supply chain from his distillery in Republic occupied Gulfland to the seven clubs he owned in the RSA. All were located along the Gulf Coast between New Orleans and Tampa. He’d had a steady source for two years until last month when said importer ran afoul of a Reformer AK47.

“The work isn’t without its risks,” Big Daddy drawled, “which is why I’m willing to pay good money.”

“What’s good money to you?”

“Twenty thousand Republic credits a month.”

“Fifty.”

“Oh you’ll have to do a lot more for me than run moonshine for that kind of money, Captain. Twenty-five.”

“Thirty-five and I’ll make the drops to each of your clubs. That way you don’t have to move the stuff over land.”

Big Daddy mulled it over. “Fine. Thirty-five…if my shipments are on time and in tact.”

“Don’t worry about that. I run a tight crew. They’ll be no barrels that come up missing.”

“I’ve heard that about you. I’ve also heard you go where other men fear to tread. You come highly recommended.”

“I get the job done.”

“Then we have an agreement.” Big Daddy held out his hand. Logan shook it brusquely, releasing as quickly as he could.

“I’ll need first month’s payment up front.”

“Mabel, bring Daddy his briefcase from the safe and another round of drinks. We have some celebrating to do.”

A half-hour later Logan descended the stairs, a brand new duffel bag stuffed with Republic credits in tow.

Jacques greeted him with a sly smile. “Is that what I think it is?”

“It is…and then some. I got the motherfucker for thirty-five.”

His grin broadening, Jacques crowed, “Laissez les bons temps roulez.”

“Yeah, except let’s get the hell out of here and to a real bar.” Logan settled his black Stetson on his head and sauntered toward the door.

_____________________________________________

Haven't read the first book in this series LANDLOCKED? Get your copy today at Ellora's Cave!

http://www.jasminejade.com/m-683-cindy-jacks.aspx

New Release--LANDLOCKED available today!

If you love Capt. Jack, you'll adore Capt. Brett Logan. Part pirate, part cowboy...ALL bad boy. Landlocked is available today at Ellora's Cave. http://www.jasminejade.com/m-683-cindy-jacks.aspx

Blurb:

For ten years, Kathryn has struggled to survive in a war-torn region that used to be part of the United States. Her country ripped apart and her husband presumed dead, she and her son need a miracle to find safe passage to the West. She’s not expecting that miracle to come in the form of Captain Brett Logan when he stumbles, injured, onto her front porch.

A privateer for the Republic of Texas, Logan keeps one eye on the horizon and one hand on his sidearm, knowing the life of a modern-day pirate is often short. When an enemy bomb nearly ends him, Kathryn nurses him back to health. Against her better judgment, she’s drawn to the enigmatic man with his tattoos and battle scars.

Kate finds shelter in Logan’s arms—and his bed. The captain navigates her body with the same skill that he sails the seven seas. The heat of their passion gives way to deeper currents. But with danger surrounding them, they must struggle to stay together and survive.

Excerpt:

An Excerpt From: LANDLOCKED

Copyright © CINDY JACKS, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

No matter how many times she corrected herself, her gaze returned to his taut torso. In the light of day, the tattoos stood out against his tanned skin. Something about the tats intrigued her, made him seem more dangerous. Exciting. She’d never been with a man like that. Then she noticed another woman’s name scrawled across his chest.

He’s already spoken for, she reminded herself.

Wetting his hair, she brushed the fine strands away from his face. She lathered her hands again and set about scrubbing his scalp. Locks of hair slipped through her fingers like silk and more than once she smoothed them across her hand just because she liked the feel.

“Mm, that’s nice.” He looked up at her.

Her throat tight, she didn’t know how to reply. Ignoring the hammering of her heart, which echoed between her legs, she finished rinsing his hair with a few dipperfuls of water.

“Okay, you’re done.” She wiped her hands on her apron again.

“Thank you.” He sat up and blotted at rivulets of water that streamed down his sculpted neck.

“No big deal.”

He gave an impish grin. “It’s been awhile since a woman has touched me like that.”

Her cheeks grew hot and she tamped down the impulse to rake her fingers through his wet locks. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Who’s Blanca?”

“What?”

“On your chest,” she pointed at the tat. “Who is she?”

He looked down at the rose on his chest. “An amazing woman who will never be mine. I’d had a bit too much tequila the night I got that tattoo, thought it might impress her. It didn’t.”

“You still have a relationship with her?”

“Not so much a relationship as an arrangement—her word, not mine.”

“Hmph. Should’ve known.”

Still toweling his hair, he asked, “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing.” Her cheeks burned hotter, anger replacing chagrin.

“It meant something.” He crossed his arms over his chest, arching an eyebrow.

“You’re just that kind of man. A girl in every port, a flagrant disregard for social standards. It’s that devil-may-care attitude that lets you stretch the limits of decency.”

“Oh yeah? How so?” His posture stiffened, he towered over her, leaning forward, his scent flooding her nostrils.

“Well, you know.” She dropped his gaze and busied herself cleaning up. “Roy says you run heroin for the Mexican cartels.”

“Heroin?” Furrowing his brow, he shook his head. “No. Hell no. I’ve never smuggled hard drugs like that.”

“‘Hard drugs’? Am I correct in assuming you’ve run what you’d consider ‘soft drugs’?”

Again he advanced on her, too close for comfort. “Sometimes during the course of a business deal, I have to be flexible. I do favors for powerful men and they procure the medical supplies and munitions I need. But it’s only marijuana or generic Viagra, maybe counterfeit painkillers. Nothing that would ever hurt anyone.”

“It could hurt me and my son, having a drug smuggler in the house.”

He narrowed his eyes. “But when I was just a gun-running pirate, that was okay?”

Kathryn slammed her hand on the counter. “As soon as you’re stable to travel, I want you out of my house.”

“What’s with you? First you don’t like me because I’m a Texan and Texans didn’t do enough to keep the Union together. Now you don’t like me because I’m willing to go too far for a cause I believe in. You’re an awfully hard woman to please.”

“Why on earth are you trying to please me in the first place?”

His gaze locked with hers and he sighed, but gave her no answer.

Of all the stubborn, skirt-chasing, infuriating men. Kathryn ground her teeth. He talked about casual sex and smuggling dope as if these activities were as normal as eating breakfast. A man who tattooed himself with a woman’s name on a drunken whim? Had he no respect, no boundaries?

Throwing her hands in the air, she headed for her bedroom, but Logan stepped in front of her. At first she thought it an act of aggression, but instead of malice or annoyance on his face, she saw something else flame in his eyes. One large, work-calloused hand glanced over her cheek and he brushed away a stray lock of hair.

“What do you think—?” she began to object. He put a finger to her lips and caught her around the waist. More barbed indignation sprang to mind but her mouth refused to cooperate. In fact her whole body had turned mutinous at the feel of his warm skin. Visions of her dream flashed through her mind.

His lips pressed to hers. Not a peck or a whisper of a kiss, but a full measure of passion. His tongue sought out hers, hot breath against her cheek, strong arms bound her torso to his. She gripped his shoulders, struggling to resist the fire raging between her thighs.

How long their embrace lasted, she couldn’t say, but when they parted she had to fight the urge to draw him in again.

Her eyelids heavy, she opened them halfway to see his look of amused satisfaction.

“Sorry, I interrupted you,” he murmured. “You were saying?”

Damned if she could remember. She touched her fingertips to her chin, her lips still tingling. Without another thought, she grabbed his neck and pulled him into a deep kiss. The scent of his skin freshly shaven with her lavender soap filled her nostrils. Mixed with his body chemistry, the fragrance took on a woodsy musk. She inhaled again, unable to get enough.

Backing her against the table, he sent a few books and a pan of silverware clattering to the floor, not that either of them noticed. Her ears rang with the blood pounding through them, the same throb manifesting between her thighs. He moved his hands down to her backside, hitched up her skirt and scooped her up. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she clung to his neck, mouth hungry, their tongues intertwined.

Get your copy today! http://www.jasminejade.com/m-683-cindy-jacks.aspx

Pirate Book Brew Today!

Coffee Time Romance's monthly Book Brew is about pirates! Join me at http://coffeetimeromance.com/CoffeeThoughts/ for pirate-y fun, excerpts, prizes and more! Just to whet your appetite, I'll share a little snippet from my upcoming Ellora's Cave release, LANDLOCKED. If you love Capt. Jack Sparrow, you'll adore Capt. Brett Logan--Part pirate, part cowboy, ALL bad boy!

http://www.jasminejade.com/m-683-cindy-jacks.aspx
Blurb:

For ten years, Kathryn has struggled to survive in a war-torn region that used to be part of the United States. Her country ripped apart and her husband presumed dead, she and her son need a miracle to find safe passage to the West. She’s not expecting that miracle to come in the form of Captain Brett Logan when he stumbles, injured, onto her front porch.

A privateer for the Republic of Texas, Logan keeps one eye on the horizon and one hand on his sidearm, knowing the life of a modern-day pirate is often short. When an enemy bomb nearly ends him, Kathryn nurses him back to health. Against her better judgment, she’s drawn to the enigmatic man with his tattoos and battle scars.

Kate finds shelter in Logan’s arms—and his bed. The captain navigates her body with the same skill that he sails the seven seas. The heat of their passion gives way to deeper currents. But with danger surrounding them, they must struggle to stay together and survive.

Excerpt:

“Kate, do you have a razor?” Logan rubbed at his face, an inch of beard covering his jaw and chin.

“Sort of.” From a drawer, she produced a paring knife that had been ground to a straight edge. “Jonas used to use it.”

Handing it to him, she hesitated.

“If you don’t want me to use it…” he said.

She turned the handle over in her hand, plucking the blade with her thumb. “No. It’s fine, but it probably needs sharpening.”

Once finished with the whetstone, she offered him the knife, handle-side out.

“I-I don’t know how to use a straight razor,” he stammered, the implicit request hanging between them.

With a halfhearted chuckle, she pulled a chair up to the washbasin and motioned for him to sit. Stripping off his shirt, he settled into the seat, leaning back.

Wetting her fingertips, she lathered up her hands. No choice but to hover over him, she leaned in to soap his beard. His gaze flitted to her bosom and then straight ahead again, but the damage was done. Flames licked at her cheeks, racing down to her pussy. Ignoring the throbbing between her legs, she put a swipe of foam on each of his cheeks, over his chin and mustache. He looked like Santa Claus. She smiled at him and wiped lather from his lips. His mouth was softer than she’d thought it would be.

Though the weather had turned cooler, Kathryn fanned herself, heat radiating from beneath her clothes. “Do you mind if I open the kitchen window?”

“Not at all.”

She leaned across him and cranked the lever, letting in a breeze perfumed with basil and sage.

“It’s nice out today,” he said, a hitch in his voice.

“Yeah. It is.” She pulled up a chair and sat close to him. His breath smelled of her homemade peppermint toothpaste, warmth came off his skin in waves. Butterflies in her stomach distracted her for a moment but she managed to regain her focus on the task at hand.

Placing a hand on his strong shoulder, she steadied her first downward stroke. The razor scraped across his face with a scratching sound, revealing a fresh patch of hairless skin. After she’d finished one cheek, she gripped his chin with her thumb and forefinger, turning him to look the other way. His neck arched at an angle that showed off every sinewy muscle. Her gaze wandered down his body, the rise and fall of his broad chest, his pulse at the base of his throat. Kathryn took a deep breath, trying once again to ignore the fact that he was one of the most beautiful men she’d ever laid eyes on. What would he do if she leaned forward and kissed the warm spot just behind his ear? She imagined running her mouth down his neck, letting her tongue trail over his fragrant skin. Blinking away the torturous imagery, she managed to finish the shave without climbing onto his lap and covering his mouth with hers.

“There you go.” She wiped the remaining soap from his face. By accident—by accident?—she let her fingertips pass over his baby-smooth cheek. Electricity shot through her and she fought off a shiver.

His gray eyes darted from side to side and he didn’t get up as she’d expected him to. “Could you—if you don’t mind—could you wash my hair? I still can’t bend to do it and I don’t want to get my stitches wet and I hate to ask, but…”

She swallowed and wiped her hands on her apron. “Sure. It’s no problem.”

Easing his head back against the washbasin, she noticed his abs tense. “Is that position okay?”

“It’s fine.”

No matter how many times she corrected herself, her gaze returned to his taut torso. In the light of day, the tattoos stood out against his tanned skin. Something about the tats intrigued her, made him seem more dangerous. Exciting. She’d never been with a man like that. Then she noticed another woman’s name scrawled across his chest.

He’s already spoken for, she reminded herself.

Wetting his hair, she brushed the fine strands away from his face. She lathered her hands again and set about scrubbing his scalp. Locks of hair slipped through her fingers like silk and more than once she smoothed them across her hand just because she liked the feel.

“Mm, that’s nice.” He looked up at her.

Her throat tight, she didn’t know how to reply. Ignoring the hammering of her heart, which echoed between her legs, she finished rinsing his hair with a few dipperfuls of water.

“Okay, you’re done.” She wiped her hands on her apron again.

“Thank you.” He sat up and blotted at rivulets of water that streamed down his sculpted neck.

“No big deal.”

He gave an impish grin. “It’s been a while since a woman has touched me like that.”

Her cheeks grew hot and she tamped down the impulse to rake her fingers through his wet locks. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Who’s Blanca?”

“What?”

“On your chest,” she pointed at the tat. “Who is she?”

He looked down at the rose on his chest. “An amazing woman who will never be mine. I’d had a bit too much tequila the night I got that tattoo, thought it might impress her. It didn’t.”

“You still have a relationship with her?”

“Not so much a relationship as an arrangement—her word, not mine.”

“Hmph. Should’ve known.”

Still toweling his hair, he asked, “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing.” Her cheeks burned hotter, anger replacing chagrin.

“It meant something.” He crossed his arms over his chest, arching an eyebrow.

“You’re just that kind of man. A girl in every port, a flagrant disregard for social standards. It’s that devil-may-care attitude that lets you stretch the limits of decency.”

“Oh yeah? How so?” His posture stiffened, he towered over her, leaning forward, his scent flooding her nostrils.

“Well, you know.” She dropped his gaze and busied herself cleaning up. “Roy says you run heroin for the Mexican cartels.

“Heroin?” Furrowing his brow, he shook his head. “No. Hell, no. I’ve never smuggled hard drugs like that.”

“‘Hard drugs?’ Am I correct in assuming you’ve run what you’d consider ‘soft drugs’?”

Again he advanced on her, too close for comfort. “Sometimes during the course of a business deal, I have to be flexible. I do favors for powerful men and they procure the medical supplies and munitions I need. But it’s only marijuana or generic Viagra, maybe counterfeit painkillers. Nothing that would ever hurt anyone.”

“It could hurt me and my son, having a drug smuggler in the house.”

He narrowed his eyes. “But when I was just a gun-running pirate, that was okay?”

Kathryn slammed her hand on the counter. “As soon as you’re stable to travel, I want you out of my house.”

“What’s with you? First you don’t like me because I’m a Texan and Texans didn’t do enough to keep the 

Union together. Now you don’t like me because I’m willing to go too far for a cause I believe in. You’re an awfully hard woman to please.”

“Why on earth are you trying to please me in the first place?”

His gaze locked with hers and he sighed, but gave her no answer.

Of all the stubborn, skirt-chasing, infuriating men. Kathryn ground her teeth. He talked about casual sex and smuggling dope as if these activities were as normal as eating breakfast. A man who tattooed himself with a woman’s name on a drunken whim? Had he no respect, no boundaries?

Throwing her hands in the air, she headed for her bedroom, but Logan stepped in front of her. At first she thought it an act of aggression, but instead of malice or annoyance on his face, she saw something else flame in his eyes. One large, work-calloused hand glanced over her cheek and he brushed away a stray lock of hair.

“What do you think—?” she began to object. He put a finger to her lips and caught her around the waist. 

More barbed indignation sprang to mind but her mouth refused to cooperate. In fact her whole body had turned mutinous at the feel of his warm skin. Visions of her dream flashed through her mind.

His lips pressed to hers. Not a peck or a whisper of a kiss, but a full measure of passion. His tongue sought out hers, hot breath against her cheek, strong arms bound her torso to his. She gripped his shoulders, struggling to resist the fire raging between her thighs.

______________________

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