Private Investigations. Tori Carrington
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Название: Private Investigations
Автор: Tori Carrington
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Temptation
isbn: 9781472083395
isbn:
This was definitely not a dream…
Breasts. Bare breasts. That’s the first thing Joe saw as firm thighs squeezed his hips. “Stay still,” the woman on top of him quietly ordered.
What did she mean? He was still. Oh, well, maybe there was one part of him that wasn’t completely obeying….
The balcony doors slid open, but before Joe could see what was going on, the woman was kissing him.
No, she wasn’t kissing him—she was devouring him. He groaned against the mattress. This was better than any dream. Forgotten were the strangers on the balcony, the identity of the woman straddling him, the bizarre notion that he didn’t have any idea what was happening. All he could think about was the rush of heat to his groin, the taste of the mouth now plundering his….
Then she moved. Oh, God, she moved.
Somewhere in the back of Joe’s mind he realized the shadows were no longer at the balcony doors. And his dream nymph moved again—only this time, it was away from him. Joe blinked, trying to focus on the gorgeous, naked woman now standing at the foot of his bed.
In a panicked voice, she said, “I need your help.”
Dear Reader,
Is there one thing you’ve always wanted to do, but never dared try? Have you yearned to shrug off your usual nine-to-five clothing and slip into something a little more adventurous…risqué, even? In Private Investigations, Ripley Logan does just that by chucking her job as a secretary for a more exciting career as a private investigator. Only, she doesn’t anticipate just how very exciting things will get. And sizzling, sinful Joe Pruitt is all too willing to show her….
An ex-jock turned successful businessman, Joe isn’t thrilled when he gets pulled into whatever professional mess sexy Miss Logan has gotten herself into. After all, he’s willing to go only so far for a good turn in the sack. The problem is that line keeps getting farther and farther away….
We hope you enjoy Ripley and Joe’s sexy adventure! We’d love to hear what you think. Write to us at P.O. Box 12271, Toledo, Ohio, 43612, or visit us on the Web at www.toricarrington.com.
Until next time,
Lori & Tony Karayianni
aka Tori Carrington
Private Investigations
Tori Carrington
This one’s for all our online buds at Writerspace.com,
NovelTalk, R.E.A.D., Writers Club Romance Group,
Cata Romance, Compuserve, Romance and Friends,
The Romance Journal and last but definitely not least,
RomEx. Thanks for keeping it real.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
1
SLICK FINGERS slid down the length of the long, hard surface then back up again. Moist heat swirled up and around, dampening her skin, making her long for something that was taking far too long to achieve. She gave a good squeeze, gauging the liquid ready to ooze out, then rested her cheek against the familiar object she’d been longing to get her fingers around all day.
Ripley Logan finally judged the bathtub water deep enough, uncapped the bottle of bubble bath in her hand and upended it. She watched, mesmerized, as the contents mixed with the rapidly falling water. She couldn’t wait to sink in and soak away the weariness that had built up through the long day.
Okay, she admitted, maybe she’d made more informed decisions in her life. Sitting on the side of the hotel room bathtub, she took a deep breath, allowing the smell of peaches to wash away some of her exhaustion. Who would have thought being a private investigator would be so grueling? Exciting, yes. That was the whole reason she’d learned how to handle a firearm, taken six months worth of specialized classes and studied up on the finer points of surveillance equipment. But her first case, and second day on the job, and she was wondering why no one had told her about the long hours, the countless people who wouldn’t talk to her even if she threatened Chinese torture treatment and, well, the plain loneliness of the job. Turning the nearly empty bottle upright, she capped it then stretched to her feet. Muscles she’d forgotten she had hurt. If the reason for her tired state had been interesting, that would be one thing. Pounding the pavement looking for a woman who didn’t want to be found was quite another.
She glanced at the time, then took off her watch and laid it on the sink. After midnight, and she was no closer to finding out anything more about a certain missing person, Nicole Bennett, than she had been twelve hours ago, roughly the time her plane set down at Memphis International Airport.
Ripley could practically hear her mother saying, “Maybe they’ll take you back at your old job, honey. You do have six years in there. And you’re a reliable and skilled worker. I’m sure they’ll understand that you’ve had a change of heart.”
Merely imagining the conversation with her mother was enough to snap Ripley’s spine straight. The company she’d worked for had been bought out by another company, and a good third of the employees had been offered early retirement or attractive severance packages. She’d been the first in line to take one of the latter. Of course, the part she’d never tell her mother was that she’d seen the offer as a sign that she should stop chomping at the bit and run full out. The perfect opportunity to do something more exciting with her life. Something that didn’t involve carrying an extra pair of nylons in her purse and hours shopping for dress shoes that wouldn’t kill her.
Not that she expected her mother—or her father either, for that matter—to understand her recent decision. Vivian Logan had been forty-five when she and Fred had given up trying to have a child of their own and adopted Ripley. They’d always been out of step with her friends’ younger parents. While classmates were having cool birthday parties with roller-skating or movie themes, she had suffered through Kool-Aid and cupcake get-togethers with games of pin the tail on the donkey—or worse, piñatas. It wouldn’t have been so bad when she was five. But she’d been fifteen.
After СКАЧАТЬ