Damn, that smile.
“Yes, Sam. For all the days of our lives.”
Epilogue
“You’re not,” Ava laughed, breathlessly backing down the second-floor hall of her house toward a bedroom that saw more than its fair share of action. “I don’t even know why I ordered that one.”
Sam was a pace back, matching her step for step, with Pinkie and Greenbean following eagerly at his heels. But the lopsided grin sitting on his sexy face, stretching wider as he helped himself to another look into the priority shipping box he held in one hand, was just for her. “That’s how you’re going to play it, Ave? You don’t even know why you ordered this—”
“Don’t say it!” she squeaked, heat blazing through her cheeks and pooling deeper through her center when those worn-denim eyes locked hot with hers.
Okay, she knew why she’d ordered it. A couple of nights back, Sam had been working on his hobby project—converting the building he’d bought from Ford into a single two-story residence. She’d just gotten out of the shower when she found Sam on the construction side of the plastic drapes, marking up some plans. He’d been leaning over his makeshift plywood desk, so she could see the phenomenal terrain of his sculpted back beneath the cotton stretch of his white T-shirt…and he was wearing the tool belt.
She’d tried to be good. Really she had.
Because this project was important to Sam. It was their home. And while she didn’t really care what the timetable was, so long as she had her incredible husband warming her bed each night and brightening her every day in a thousand different ways, he cared about making it perfect and about giving her the kind of home she’d had growing up. The kind of home they’d had.
So she couldn’t distract him…which meant distracting herself instead.
They’d already had the puppies playing over in the doggie corner of Wicker Park, so both Pinkie and Greenbean were dead to the world, refusing to lift so much as their heads when she’d tried to entice them with Squeaky-Piggy. Maggie was as big as a basketball and sleeping as much as possible, with Tyler hovering close at her side, so Ava tried to restrict her stalking to a window of hours between nine and nine. And Ford…he’d been even more distracted than usual lately with finding a new property to reinvest his money from the sale of this building, and the launch of his latest game.
Which left the computer.
Only she didn’t want to work. And after a few wayward keystrokes, she’d found herself back at her favorite adult shopping site. Getting hotter and hotter thinking about her husband down the hall…wearing his tool belt…and what she wanted to do to him once he finished whatever it was he was working on. Or ten minutes from then, which was about all she thought she could reasonably be expected to wait.
One thing led to another, and two days later Sam was signing for another multibox shipment.
Giving her that hot look that had her melting into a puddle as she sprinted for the bedroom.
Teasing her with her purchases. The naughty presents she’d been so bold buying, but now…well, this one in particular? She didn’t even really know how—
But then it seemed Sam was through with his game of cat and mouse. Closing the remaining distance between them in two strides, he caught her around the waist with his free hand and pulled her in hard against him, balancing the box out to the side.
His mouth was on hers, his tongue sweeping between her lips, as he backed her the rest of the way into their bedroom and onto the bed. The box fell to the floor with a heavy thunk, but Ava couldn’t think about anything but the drugging sensation of Sam’s mouth on hers. His hands sliding under her shirt. His muscles tensing beneath her roving touch.
They were desperate, pulling at each other’s clothes like their next breath depended on it. And then he was above her—her husband, her lover, her best friend in the world, and the man who’d made her every fantasy come true. He pushed deep inside, filling her completely. And when there was nothing but the two of them together, connected in a way she’d only known with him, he stared into her eyes. Letting her see everything in his heart, he told her the words he couldn’t seem to say enough and that she would never tire of hearing.
“I love you, Ava.”
“I love you too.”
An hour later, Ava was tucked in the crook of Sam’s shoulder, their legs an intimate tangle beneath the sheets. She turned, scooching around until her chin rested on his chest and she was looking up into one very satisfied and supremely smug face. “Okay, so I’m not regretting my purchase.”
Sam laughed, the low rumble of it doing things to her heart she wondered if she’d ever get used to.
“Yeah, I kinda got that feeling when you were screaming my name for the third time.”
Ava’s face heated, and those worn-denim blues softened as he brushed a thumb across her cheek. “How is it even possible I can still make you blush?”
Only she didn’t have time to answer, because then her phone was vibrating from the nightstand to the right while Sam’s started jittering across the table to his left. Their eyes met for one knowing beat, and then they were tumbling out of bed, pulling their clothes on as fast as they could, unconcerned with details like seams going on the inside as they dashed for the door—because Maggie was having her baby.
Ford had Tyler’s car warmed up and waiting downstairs by the time they got there, the windows cleared of the inch of new snow that had fallen since that afternoon. Tyler and Maggie made it down the front steps and for a second it looked like he was going to try to carry her, but then Maggie gave him the scariest look Ava had ever seen and the guy had the good sense to back off. Helping her to the car, he got her into the front seat, while Ava stowed Maggie’s overnight bag in the trunk. Then Ava, Sam, and Ford piled into the backseat—because Tyler didn’t trust anyone to drive his precious cargo but him—and they started at a safe, conservative pace for the hospital.
“You’re doing great, Maggie,” Tyler promised for about the thirtieth time since they’d pulled away from the curb two blocks before.
“Yeah, really good, Maggs. Anything we can do for you?” Ford asked, while Ava stared at her husband, who seemed to have fallen into some paralytic state watching their friend panting and grimacing in the front seat.
“Sam?” she asked quietly. But not quietly enough, because then Maggie was looking back.
Her face was contorted and she leaned forward. “Ty, I think you’re going to have to hurry.”
He blanched.
“Oh fuck, Maggie, is the baby coming now?” he demanded, starting to pull over. “Ford, call 911. I read up on this, I can deliver the baby if I need to, but hopefully an ambulance—”
Only then Maggie was gasping, laughing at her husband. “I’m sure you could. But I just meant, I think Sam’s going to pass out if we don’t get there fast.”
The next few hours were a blur of low-speed precision driving, registration and paperwork, escalating contractions, the realization that Ford had a suspicious smudge of lipstick on the bottom hem of his T-shirt, his refusal to answer the subsequent onslaught of questions, and then finally…about forty minutes of Sam, Ford, and Ava sitting silently in the waiting room while Maggie became a mommy.
And when it was done, and they were allowed to file back in, one after another, it was Sam who took the words from Ava’s mouth.
“She’s a miracle.”
Ava was nodding, staring down at the beauty nestled in her mother’s arms.
“She’s perfect,” she whispered, overwhelmed by the sight of this tiny human she’d been waiting to meet for so long. “Maggie, you did so good.”
Her friend smiled up at her, fatigue etched through every line of her blissful face. “Tyler helped a little.”
He smiled from beside her, where he was sitting with one hand over their baby girl and one hand at Maggie’s hair. “No, Maggie, this is all you.”
And then Tyler and Maggie were staring into each other’s eyes, smiling in a way that made Ava
feel like truly, everything was right with this world.
Sam wrapped his arms around her from behind, and holding her close…he smiled against her ear. “Soon, Ava.”
She looked over her shoulder and, with tears in her eyes, smiled into the face she loved best in the world. “Yeah, soon.”
For Nicole Resciniti
BY MIRA LYN KELLY
Dare to Love
Truth or Dare
Touch & Go
USA Today bestselling author MIRA LYN KELLY grew up in the Chicago area and earned her degree in Fine Arts from Loyola University. She met the love of her life while studying abroad in Rome, Italy, only to discover he’d been living right around the corner from her back home. Having spent her twenties working and playing in the Windy City, she’s now settled with her husband in rural Minnesota, where their four beautiful children provide an excess of action and entertainment. When she isn’t reading, writing, or running to keep up with the kids, she loves watching movies, blabbing with the girls, and cooking with her husband and friends.
Mira loves to hear from her readers, so don’t be a stranger!
Here are just a few ways to stay in touch…
www.miralynkelly.com
Facebook.com/MiraLynKelly.Author
@miralynkelly
www.pinterest.com/miralynkelly
eepurl.com/A-XKr
The Editor’s Corner
February is the month for romance, especially at Loveswept…because this month we have a little something for everyone.
Sure to please fans of erotic romance, Lea Griffith’s All or Nothing series returns to the deepest places of longing and obsession—don’t miss More. In Sidney Halston’s latest sizzling MMA romance, Below the Belt, a former title contender turns the tables on his knockout trainer with a lesson in seduction. New York Times bestselling author Tracy Wolff is back with another Ethan Frost novel, featuring the irresistible leading man from the New York Times bestsellers Ruined and Addicted in Exposed. USA Today bestselling author Sawyer Bennett hits the ice with the story of a playboy athlete whose winning ways lead him to a beautiful woman with a lot to lose. You don’t have to love hockey to enjoy Garrett, the next book in Sawyer’s Cold Fury Hockey series. Another of our Loveswept USA Today bestsellers, Mira Lyn Kelly, cranks up the heat for two lifelong friends whose most secret longings come true in every delectable way in Touch & Go. And later in the month, in Lavinia Kent’s luscious, erotic historical romance, a free spirit learns her true desires from a master of the heart, of the body—and of the sweetest discipline. Check out Bound by Bliss. Ashlyn Macnamara finishes up this month of romance with a blazing hot novel, What a Lady Requires, the story of mismatched newlyweds who discover a simmering connection.
Be our Valentine this month and every month—read Loveswept.
~Happy Romance!
Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher
Read on for an excerpt from Katie Rose’s
Too Hot to Handle
Available from Loveswept
Chapter 1
“Hey, bro!” Ryan Wakeman strode into the MIXX bar at the Borgata Casino and waved at the Sonics shortstop. Jake Baldwin was, of course, surrounded by girls. A cute little blonde hopped off the stool as Ryan approached, and she blew Jake a kiss when he made it clear he was occupied.
While not the best-looking member of the team—Chase Westbrook held that title—Jake’s little-boy looks, sandy-blond hair, wide blue eyes, and sexy smile attracted women immediately. Charm he had in buckets, and when he turned the full force of his personality on an unsuspecting female, she was done.
The first baseman grabbed the recently vacated stool and signaled to the bartender for a drink. A shot of tequila appeared before him, along with an icy draft. He gave his teammate a questioning look at the amount of alcohol even as he downed the clear liquor.
“It’s off-season,” Jake said with a grin. “We don’t start spring training for a week yet. Plenty of time.”
“Apparently not for all of us.” Ryan gestured to the couple across the bar. Chase Westbrook, their ace pitcher, sat with his girlfriend, Darcy Hamilton, and was nursing a club soda. He seemed to sense their perusal and sent Jake a grin as well as a nod.
“He has to behave himself. He’s got the wife with him.”
Ryan chuckled. “She isn’t yet, but I think it’s just a matter of time.” One brow arched and he looked at Jake speculatively. “So I’m already married, Chase is on his way. What about you? Think you’ll ever settle down?”
“Not my style,” the shortstop said, and then looked at his teammate with curiosity. “I don’t know how you do it. We’re on the road all the time, a different state every week. And with spring training in Florida, there are just too many opportunities to meet girls. Some of them are so damned gorgeous. How do you stay committed?”
“That’s easy,” Ryan said. “It really is true—when you find the right one you just don’t want to cheat. Not that I don’t like to look. But that’s all.”
Jake just shook his head. “I’ve got to hand it to you and our buddy over there.” He indicated Chase. “He’s smitten. Never seen him happier.”
“I know. The man’s done.”
Jake nodded and then gestured to the bartender for another round. When the woman approached, she gave him a sexy smile.
“Hey, honey,” she whispered, leaning closer to the shortstop. “What are you doing later?”
She wore a badge that said Desiree and her voice was rich with promise. Jake allowed his eyes to travel from the top of her platinum-blond head down.
Apparently he liked what he saw. “I’m meeting someone for a couple of drinks,” he confided with a wicked smile. “But I should be able to stop back before closing.”
“Sounds good.” She bent down to get the bottle of tequila, and Jake saw a long length of tanned thigh. His eyes met Ryan’s, and the first baseman shook his head and grinned.
As if on cue, one of the Borgata waitresses, a sultry redhead, entered the bar. She glanced around, and then spotted Jake. Waving enthusiastically, she pushed her way through the crowd and joined him.
“Sorry I’m late.” The redhead kissed the shortstop’s cheek and gave Ryan a little finger wave. Her uniform boasted a plunging neckline, which showed off magnificent surgically enhanced breasts, and a skirt so short it barely covered her bottom. “I got held up at the table.”
Jake gave her a kiss in return. “Did you win?”
“Yes, a couple hundred bucks. Drinks are on me!” she said enthusiastically and then turned to the bar. Immediately, her smile disappeared as her eyes locked on the bartender. The tension crackled between them as the cool blonde and the hot redhead sized each other up like two cats in the same barnyard.
“What are you doing here?” the redhead spat, her green eyes blazing.
“Working,” Desiree sneered, pouring a drink for emphasis. “You know, real job?”
“Come on, Jake, let’s get out of here.” The redhead gave the bartender a look that could shoot daggers.
Desiree smiled. “See you later, Jakey. Once you’re done wasting your time with her.”
The redhead looked from Jake to the other woman and approaching the bar, poured the glass of tequila over the bartender’s head. Desiree gasped, the clear liquor trickling down her hair and onto her forehead. Grabbing a towel, she rubbed the sting from her eyes, mascara smearing, and then sprang up onto the bar, livid with outrage.
“Oh, no.” Ryan tried to insert himself between the two women, but even his massive form wasn’t enough to keep them apart. A true Jersey catfight ensued even as Jake tried to pull his date out of the grip of the furious bartender.
Chase came around the bar and tried to break it up, but all he got for his trouble was a face full of beer meant for the redhead. A tough-looking thug who’d been eyeing up Desiree all evening jumped into the fray and punched Jake, correctly assessing him as the source.
Without hesitation, Jake hit the ma
n back and within seconds, the entire bar had joined the fight. The redhead pulled Desiree’s hair and wound up with a handful of platinum extensions, while the blonde brought her to the ground.
The two women rolled on the marble floor, screaming and cursing, while manicured fists tried to make contact. Darcy leaped up and grabbed the security guard, and then tried to pry Chase out of the mass of flailing limbs. She pulled him away just as he threw up his arm to protect her from a flying beer bottle, while the guard tried to stop the brawl. Jake accidentally punched Chase, his fist connecting neatly with the pitcher’s chin, and took a hit to the gut in retaliation.
The bouncer quickly called for help, and two cops showed up in record time. The lounge looked like something out of an old western as drinks flew along with fists. One of the officers grabbed a pitcher of ice water and unceremoniously threw it on the two women. The redhead let out a howl, giving the man the opportunity he needed to get her off the bartender.
“Break it up!” the other policeman shouted, hauling the brawlers away one by one. He had to call for reinforcements, but once security arrived along with the hotel manager, they were finally able to round up the instigators and hoist them down to the police station. Cell phones flashed, Twitter tweeted, and YouTube exploded. Within minutes, the Sonics’ fight hit social media everywhere as the fans re-tweeted the incident and shared the videos.
By morning, the Jersey team was headline news.
“What the hell is this crap?” Jeffrey Caine threw the paper across the desk where Pete Johnston, head coach for the Sonics, placidly chewed his gum. John Palmer, the team’s communications director, looked to the sky.
Pete shrugged and glanced at the lurid headlines and the nearly obscene picture of two women rolling around the floor of the glitzy nightclub. It didn’t take a practiced eye to spot several members of the Sonics, obviously in the thick of the battle.