PRAISE FOR
The Care and Feeding of an Alpha Male
“Sizzling! Jessica Clare gets everything right in this erotic and sexy romance . . . You need to read this book.”
—Romance Junkies
“What a treat to find a book that does it all and does it so well. Clare has crafted a fiery, heartfelt love story that keeps on surprising . . . matching wit and warmth with plenty of spice . . . This is a book, and a series, not to be missed.”
—RT Book Reviews (4 ½ Stars)
The Girl’s Guide to (Man)Hunting
“Sexy and funny.”
—USA Today
“A novel that will appeal to both erotic romance fans and outdoor enthusiasts. Set in the small town of Bluebonnet, Texas, this rollicking story of a wilderness survival school and a couple of high-school sweethearts is full of fun and hot, steamy romance.”
—Debbie’s Book Bag
“Clare’s sizzling encounters in the great outdoors have definite forest-fire potential from the heat generated.”
—RT Book Reviews
“A fun, cute, and sexy read . . . Miranda’s character is genuine and easy to relate to, and Dane was oh so sexy! Great chemistry between these two that makes for a hot and steamy read, but also it is filled with humor and a great supporting cast.”
—Nocturne Romance Reads
“If you like small-town settings with characters that are easy to fall in love with, this is the book for you.”
—Under the Covers Book Blog
Berkley Sensation titles by Jessica Clare
THE GIRL’S GUIDE TO (MAN)HUNTING
THE CARE AND FEEDING OF AN ALPHA MALE
THE EXPERT’S GUIDE TO DRIVING A MAN WILD
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China
penguin.com
A Penguin Random House Company
THE EXPERT’S GUIDE TO DRIVING A MAN WILD
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2013 by Jessica Clare.
Excerpt from The Virgin’s Guide to Misbehaving by Jessica
Clare copyright © 2013 by Jessica Clare.
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For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
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375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-59248-9
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / January 2014
Cover photo © iStockphoto.
Cover design by Lesley Worrell.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for
author or third-party websites or their content.
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CONTENTS
Praise for Jessica Clare
Other titles by Jessica Clare
Title Page
Copyright
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
Excerpt from The Virgin's Guide to Misbehaving
ONE
Brenna whistled to herself as she left her cabin. She headed to the ATV shed on the far side of the main lodge that served as headquarters for Wilderness Survival Expeditions. She was alone, which meant it was the perfect time for sabotage.
After glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, she closed the doors and clicked on the overhead light, fanning herself. With the doors shut, it was stuffy in the damn shed, but she didn’t plan on being in there long. Brenna moved to the first ATV—her favorite, the cherry red one—and squatted next to the front tire. She took the cap off the valve stem and then pressed her key into it until she heard the hiss of air. Humming to herself, she let out about half of the air before replacing the cap. Moving to the back tire on the same vehicle, she repeated it.
All done. Beaming to herself, she dusted off her hands and re-opened the shed doors, glancing at the empty parking lot. It was still early in the morning, the birds chirping and a breeze swaying the tall trees in the distance. Her gaze landed on Grant’s immaculate Audi gleaming in the parking lot.
A naughty smile curving her mouth, she moved to the hood, popped it, and surveyed the engine. She found the switch casing, opened it, and reviewed the list of switches until she identified the fuel pump switch. With careful fingers, she plucked it out of his car, closed the casing, shut the hood, and tossed the switch into a nearby garbage can.
Some days, she just loved her job.
Recently, their small business had expanded to include Colt’s aging father, who everyone called Pop. He mowed the lawns and did repairs, but there wasn’t normally enough to keep the man busy. Colt wanted his dad to feel needed, though, so Brenna was tasked with finding stuff to break for Pop to fix. She was great at it, too, though pretty soon she figured he’d be on to her flushing the tampon down the toilet trick. It was time to switch up her game a little, and a bit of vehicle maintenance would do the job just fine. Whistling again, she headed around the front of the main cabin and paused on the front steps.
Two male voices inside were arguing. Huh. She glanced at her watch. Six thirty in the morning. Too early for Pop to be up, or Grant, who was a late sleeper. She tended to get up with the sunrise, just like Colt and Dane. Habit from Alaska for them, she supposed, and habit for her from years of living in the backseat of a car.
Like any good nosy busybody, she pressed her ear to the front door to listen in.
“You can’t leave right now.” Dane sounded almost betrayed. “What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”
“Same thing you always do. Hold classes. Keep Brenna out of trouble. Keep Grant from killing Brenna.”
“But we have classes booked every week for the next three weeks.”
“Then we’ll go in four weeks.”
“But what if we have classes then?”
“Dane, Beth Ann and I are going to have our damn honeymoon, whether or not it fits into your precious schedule. Now you’re starting to sound like Grant.”
&nbs
p; “Fuck off, man. I’m just thinking of the business.”
All right, time for her to step in and distract them before things got ugly. Brenna opened the front door and yawned loudly, alerting them to her presence. “Morning, boys.”
They both nodded at the sight of her. Dane sat at the wooden desk that he shared with Colt, which was a pretty nice desk when it wasn’t covered with magazines, books, old coffee mugs, and various other crap. Colt, naturally, was seated on the couch, staring at the Xbox. And both had stopped talking.
Screw that. She smiled brightly at them. “So what’s up? I heard something about a honeymoon?”
“Romeo here wants to abandon us for a few weeks and take his new missus up to Alaska and visit the cabin,” Dane said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I told him we had to be responsible adults because of the job.”
Colt glared at Dane. “Not my fault you’ve been roped into a big church wedding, buddy. Don’t take it out on me.”
Dane rubbed a hand down his face, looking frustrated. “God, don’t remind me.”
“You can still back out,” Colt pointed out.
“No, he can’t,” Brenna said cheerfully, moving to her chair and curling up cross-legged. “Then Miranda and Beth Ann will never talk to either one of you again.”
“Miranda wants a big wedding, so that’s what she’ll get,” Dane said, though he sounded a little weary at the thought. “Who’d have thought I’d end up with the high-maintenance girl?”
Colt snorted.
Dane just smiled that silly, lovesick expression he had on his face every time someone mentioned Miranda.
Brenna put a finger to her mouth and pantomimed gagging. “You two are pathetic.”
“You’re just jealous,” Dane said cheerfully.
“Nope. I just feel sorry for any women who have to put up with you two clowns.” She pulled a box of Pop-Tarts out of her desk and sighed when she realized it was empty. “Who was supposed to buy groceries for the lodge?”
“You,” Colt said.
“Oh crap. That’s right. I forgot.” Brenna tossed the box over onto Grant’s immaculate desk and shrugged. “Anyone for a donut run?”
Two male hands went up.
“Okay. I’ll get my keys.” She dug through the messy drawer of her desk until she located her keys, held them aloft, and then bounced out of her chair. “Be back in ten minutes.”
“Hey, Bren,” Dane called. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
She turned and snapped her fingers. “Right. If Pop asks, one of the four-wheelers looks a little low on two tires. Can you get him to take a look at it?”
“I think he meant your pants,” Colt drawled.
She glanced down at her legs. She wore a pair of men’s boxer shorts. SpongeBob SquarePants. “What’s wrong with my pants?”
“They’re missing,” Colt pointed out dryly. “Along with your shoes.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to the donut store, not the prom. Like I said, I’ll be back in five.” And she made sure to wiggle her bare feet as she left.
• • •
By the time she returned with a box of fresh donuts and a tray of hot coffees, she was disappointed to see that Grant was up. He frowned at the sight of her bare legs and boxer shorts and ratty T-shirt. Hey, at least she’d brushed her hair. She gave him an arch smile as she entered the room, setting the donuts down in front of Colt on the coffee table and snagging a coffee.
“Morning, boss,” she said in her sweetest voice, because she knew it would drive Grant crazy. She grabbed a donut and headed back to her desk.
Grant frowned over at her as she sat down. “Don’t eat that at your desk, Brenna. You’ll get crumbs into your keyboard.”
She deliberately took a messy bite of donut, half the food falling out of her mouth, dribbling crumbs all over her desk.
He sighed and turned away, his hands going to the pockets of his slacks as he paced before the fireplace. It was before nine and the man already looked immaculate. Sheesh. She gave him an annoyed look as she ate, noting his dark gray slacks with a pleat pressed into them, the lighter gray sweater he wore over a black collared shirt. Even his hair looked perfect. Tousled, perfectly styled waves that probably wouldn’t look that way without a ton of product. He was perfectly shaven, not a hair out of place. And he was frowning as the two other men attacked the donuts as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks.
“Have you two looked at the schedule for today?” Grant asked them.
“Schedule?” Dane said in a deliberately blank voice, then scarfed half a donut in one bite. “We have a schedule?”
Colt shrugged.
“I have a schedule today,” Grant said. “We have a carpenter coming out to look at the area we’ve roped off for the paintball course so we can see what needs to be built. I need one of you to be here.”
“I can’t,” Dane said. “Miranda wants to go in to Houston so we can talk to someone about flowers for the wedding.”
Colt raised a hand and made a noise that sounded like a whip, but Dane only gave them the same good-natured, lovesick grin.
“So you’ll do it, Colt?”
“I can meet with him,” Brenna volunteered, putting down her coffee. “Just show me what needs to be done and I can get with the carpenter.”
Grant glanced over at her and then turned back to Colt. “So you’ll do it, Colt?”
She was tempted to throw her donut at the back of Grant’s immaculate head. Jerk.
Colt shrugged. “Fine.”
“Good. I have to be at the airport this afternoon to pick up family, otherwise I’d take care of it.”
Brenna choked on her coffee. She began to cough, grabbing a wad of napkins and covering her mouth as she struggled to get her breath. Dane came over to her side and began to pound on her back with one of his big meat hook hands, nearly knocking her back off the chair again.
So now was probably not the best time to mention to Grant that she’d sabotaged his car.
Without the fuel pump fuse, it wouldn’t start. She’d figured it’d be a lot of fun to see him get all flustered and irritated, and then Pop could spend the afternoon trying to figure out what was wrong with the car. It was two birds with one stone, really. She’d keep Pop busy and annoy Grant at the same time.
Except, well, she hadn’t looked at the calendar, either. She glanced over at it. Sure enough, it was circled in red and said very clearly, AIRPORT.
Oops.
“Something wrong, Brenna?” Grant’s frown was directed at her, as if he could sense what she’d done.
She decided to take the heat off her. Between coughs, she said, “I think we should have a company meeting to discuss what we’re going to do when Colt leaves for two weeks.”
Grant immediately turned his frown to Colt. “You’re leaving?”
Colt glared at Brenna. “You suck.”
She gave him a thumbs up between coughs. Right back atcha.
“Where are you going?”
Colt leaned back on the couch until he could see Grant’s head. “Beth Ann wants a honeymoon and we’re low on cash, so I thought I’d take her up to the cabin in Alaska for a few weeks. Just the two of us. She likes alone time.”
“But what about classes?”
“Dane can do ’em. This is our slow period anyhow.”
“That’s why we’re setting up the paintball course,” Grant said, frowning and moving to snag the last coffee. “So there wouldn’t be a slow period. We’ve already advertised it in all the nearby papers that it’s going to be live as of December first. I’m already getting calls about it. I need you here.”
“It’s paintball,” Colt said patiently. “Can’t Pop handle it?”
“Pop’s already pretty busy,” Dane said, earning him a scowl from Colt. “Don’t look at me like that. He is al
ways busy. Brenna keeps him hopping.”
Colt glanced at Grant. “You going to run it for us, then?”
“My family’s in town, so I’m going to be occupied with them for the next few weeks.” Grant tugged at his collar as if it were too tight. That was impossible. The man probably had his clothes tailored so he could look perfect at all times. Brenna rolled her eyes at the thought and wiped the crumbs off her keyboard. “And Dane’s going to want some time off around the holidays, too. It’s like we need another set of hands.”
“Maybe you should take over some of the classes,” Brenna said to Grant.
This time, three sets of eyes turned to glare at her.
Brenna hid her smile behind a look of mock-innocence. “What’d I say?”
Grant shook his head, dismissing her comment. “I’m needed in the office to organize things since my assistant is so very lacking.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
He ignored her and turned back to the two guys. “Do you think Pop can handle an extra workload?”
Dane shrugged. “Why don’t we hire another trainer? I’m getting kind of tired of having back-to-back classes. Throw in the paintball and it doesn’t sound like we’re ever going to get a day off.”
“Where are we going to find another survival expert?” Grant asked.
“I’ll do it,” Brenna volunteered. When they turned to look at her again, she shrugged. “I’m the assistant. Let me assist.”
“We need someone with certifications,” Grant said, warming up to the subject. He stalked over to Brenna’s desk. “Write this down, Brenna. We need someone physically fit, preferably in top condition. Someone who’s personable and good with all kinds of people, from kids to businessmen. Someone with a lot of background in survival training. We’d need a list of what classes they’ve taken and what teaching skills they have. And we’ll pay for relocation.”
She nodded, and then took another sip of her coffee, watching Grant.
“You could probably put an ad in one of the Outdoor magazines. I—” He stopped and turned back to her. “Are you writing this down?”
She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Oh, did you say to write this down? I must not have heard that.”