Falling Softly: Compass Girls, Book 4

by Mari Carr

  Liam frowned. “So what are you saying? You want to leave Compton Pass?”

  “No.” Jade closed her eyes wearily. “This is my home. I don’t want to leave. My whole family is here and with Vivi’s memory getting worse…” Her words fell away as her shoulders slumped. She was in a funk. Usually life didn’t get her down, but for the past few months, she’d struggled to shirk off her constant state of unhappiness. The worst part was she didn’t really know what was bothering her. She was suffering from what Vivi called a case of the blues. And she had it bad.

  Liam reached out to touch her arm. “Maybe you’re just bothered about your grandmother’s illness. Alzheimer’s can take its toll and you’ve been watching Vicky’s decline for a couple of years now.”

  She shrugged. “I am worried about Vivi, but I don’t think that’s what’s wrong with me. Not really.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’m stuck in a rut. I work at the ranch. I tend bar here. I hang out with my cousins and you. I eat the same breakfast every day. The same damn lunch. I break up the same ridiculous redneck fights week after week. I’m coming out of my skin. It makes me want to do something crazy, wild, impulsive.”

  “What else is new?”

  She shot him a dirty look that he ignored.

  “Fine, kiddo. Be impulsive.”

  She released a quick snort. “Easier said than done. I’m Jade Compton, the sheriff’s daughter, one of the Compass Girls. Sometimes it feels like I have a thousand eyes on me—all watching out, ready to protect me the second I step one tiny toe over the line into anything that could be potentially dangerous. I’m living my life swaddled in freaking Bubble Wrap.”

  Liam laughed. “I don’t know about that. It seems to me you’ve managed to do some damage. Weren’t you the girl who got pulled over by her father for going a hundred and twenty on her motorcycle?”

  “Yes. And I caught holy hell for it too. Uncle Silas is still reading me the riot act for that, and it happened nearly six months ago.”

  Liam leaned against Bruce’s car. Her boss always parked in the alley. “I bet he is. That is one man I’d never wanna piss off.”

  Jade blew out a long breath and tugged at her T-shirt. “It doesn’t help that it’s a gazillion degrees this summer. I’m tired of being hot. It’s like I’m living in a pool of my own sweat with my clothes sticking to my skin every time I step outside.”

  “Attractive image. Thanks for sharing.”

  She grinned. Liam always knew how to talk her out of her anger. No matter how mad or annoyed she might be, Liam managed to calm her down. “Okay. You win. I’m finished bitching.”

  “So what’s your plan for getting out of your depression?”

  She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll just have to come up with something spontaneous and reckless. Maybe I’ll jump my motorcycle over Beyer’s Creek. I can sell tickets and put on a flashy pantsuit. I can even come up with a cool stunt-girl name like Jumpin’ Jade.”

  “Selling tickets hardly makes it an impulsive act.”

  She could tell he wasn’t taking her seriously and her pride kicked in, his whatever attitude rubbing her the wrong way. “Then maybe I should do something even more stupid.”

  “And what would that be?” His casual tone tweaked her temper and made her long to wipe the smug smile off his face. As always, she acted without thinking.

  “This.” She gripped his shirt in her hands and tugged him close, kissing him roughly. She felt him stiffen with surprise, the response appeasing her enough that she released him with a superior laugh. Served him right for dragging her out of the bar and then not believing her when she threatened to do something insane. He was her friend. The least he could do was play along when she was in a mood.

  His eyes narrowed, pleasing her even more. Liam was a hard person to shock, so it felt good to shake the cocky man up.

  “Oh my God, you should see your face right now, Liam.”

  Her laughter died when Liam grasped her cheeks in his large palms and pulled her forward.

  “Apparently you need a lesson in recklessness, Jade.”

  “Wha—” She didn’t have a chance to ask what the hell he was doing before Liam placed his lips on hers and kissed her. Shock held her still for a full minute as Liam took charge of her mouth. His grip was firm, directing her face this way and that as he pressed her lips apart and started exploring her mouth with his tongue.

  Part of her was compelled to shove him away. She’d only meant the kiss as a joke. This was Liam, for God’s sake. For eight years, he’d been her best friend. They didn’t kiss.

  But damn if he didn’t know his way around a mouth. Jade lifted her hands to his shoulders. Her initial intention had been to push back, but once her fingers found the firm muscles on his upper arms, she decided to indulge in a little exploration of her own.

  Liam twisted them until she was pressed against Bruce’s car, his body leaning into hers. One of his hands left her face, caressing its way along her neck, briefly touching her breast before latching on to her waist. He used his grip to tug her lower body even closer to his.

  She didn’t turn him on. Did she?

  When good, clean fun just isn’t an option.

  Dirty Deeds

  © 2014 Lorelei James

  Just once, good girl Tate Cross wants to experience a red-hot, no-strings-attached affair. She’s temporarily left her graphic artist position in Denver to settle her aunt’s estate in Spearfish, South Dakota, but the city won’t let her sell the property until the landscaping is up to snuff. The Native American landscape contractor her friend highly recommends looks like he can meet all her needs, in the flowerbed and out.

  Nathan LeBeau believes few women look at the Native American man beneath the filthy work clothes and hard hat. When Tate offers to trade art lessons for dirt work, the tempting subtext is as plain as the lettering on the side of Nathan’s truck. But in truth, he’s tired of relationships based solely on sex. His goal of proving he’s not completely hopeless in matters of the heart is second only to his dream of expanding his business.

  It figures. Tate wants no-holds-barred sex right about the time the one-time Casanova wants a good old-fashioned romance. Bring on the battle of wills!

  This book has been previously published.

  Warning: A reformed bad boy who wants a taste of real love, and a good girl who wants just one taste of the wild side—and she’s willing to drive a hard bargain to get what she wants.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Dirty Deeds:

  Nathan worked steadily all day. The afternoon turned brutally hot. Lifting and hand stacking the heavy chunks of flat concrete to create a layered retaining wall took its toll on him. He’d sleep like the dead tonight.

  After refilling his water cooler, Nathan brushed the dust from his jeans. He blotted the mixture of sweat and dirt from his neck with a stained bandana and stretched out his tired legs under the shade of a large oak. A hot breeze rustled the leaves. Heaven. He closed his eyes to bask in the beauty of the day.

  A better slice of heaven teased him as Tate’s sweet scent drifted to him. He opened his eyes slowly, hoping it wasn’t a figment of his overworked imagination.

  “Hi.” She stood underneath a low-hanging branch, her hands in the back pockets of a tiny pair of frayed, cut-off Levi 501’s. “How’s it going?”

  His mouth dried at the provocative sight of all that exposed skin. Nathan reached for his water bottle. “About like I expected.”

  “Got a better idea of how long this project is going to take?”

  “You antsy?” He squirted a stream of water in his mouth. “After the first day?”

  “No.” Her gaze lingered thoughtfully on his lips. “Although I am antsy for some things.” She pointed at his Bobcat. “That’s a pretty cute little machine you’ve got.”
<
br />   Nathan groaned. “Tate, honey. Never, ever refer to a man’s equipment as cute or little. It’s like you’re commenting on my—”

  “—manhood?” she supplied with a grin.

  “Yes. Besides, that cute machine is loaded with sixty horsepower and maneuvers like a dream. I even modified the cab roof myself, replacing the steel lattice with a roll bar—”

  Tate held up a hand. “More information than I need, thanks. I started painting the hallway and lost track of time, so I thought I’d better check on you. Can you believe it’s after four?”

  He had a lot to do before the day ended. “Well I haven’t been loafing under this tree all day.”

  She scanned the new cinnamon-colored retaining wall and then him, head to work boots. “I can tell. It looks great. Did you eat lunch?”

  Her concern startled him. “I had a ham sandwich at noon. Why?”

  Tate was frowning at her left forearm. Her short fingernails scraped intently at the splotches of purple paint.

  When she still hadn’t answered, he prompted, “Tate?”

  “What?” Her uncertain gaze met his. “Sorry. Just thinking about us having dinner and…stuff.”

  By the redness dotting her cheekbones, Nathan knew the type of stuff she’d been contemplating. Heat shot straight to his groin. Her alternating boldness and shyness was becoming her most endearing trait. His gaze dropped and got an eyeful of her bountiful breasts. Damn if the creamy swells spilling from her halter-top didn’t tempt him to bury his whole face between those firm globes. Suck the protruding tips greedily, slowly, to hear her whimper, feel the arch of her spine…

  “Nathan?”

  He snapped back to attention. Ah hell. He’d been so busy mentally licking her nipples that he’d missed the conversation. “Sorry. What did you say?”

  “Do you have dinner plans?”

  “Guess I hadn’t really thought about it.” He wadded the bandana and stuffed it into his back pocket.

  “I could whip up something edible if you’d like to stick around.”

  “Sounds good.” As he stood, his back and legs screamed in protest. “I’m knocking off about seven.”

  Her mouth opened. “You’re working three more hours? Don’t you call twelve hours excessive?”

  His spine stiffened automatically. Not another discussion about the amount of time he spent working. “No. Twelve hours is a normal day.”

  “So you always exert yourself this much?” she asked skeptically. “On every project?”

  He could confess right now that this situation was special. Tell her about the contest and earn her support. Instead he bent down to retrieve his hard hat, and muttered, “Yep.” It embarrassed him, the suspicion in her eyes and his answering shame that he had no life besides work. He was aware of the opinions most people held on Native American work ethics. He’d been called a lazy Injun more times than he cared to count. Every time it happened, it stung his pride and made him determined to prove himself an exception.

  Tate softly called his name.

  When he reluctantly met her gaze, she stepped forward and gifted him with a flirty kiss.

  “Then I feel incredibly lucky you’re working that hard for me.” Petal-soft lips brushed the shell of his ear, releasing an unexpected shiver. “I certainly hope I’m worth these long hours. I don’t want my teaching skills to be a disappointment.”

  “Unlikely.” Nathan was lost in the face of her sweetness. Didn’t matter he’d spent the day covered in dust and the black fallout from diesel fuel as he jerked her against his body. He gorged himself on her sweet mouth, tasting warm, willing woman. His stubbled cheek scratched the temptingly tender skin beneath her jaw. She smelled like ambrosia. He smelled like the sulfur pits of hell.

  “Sorry. You probably don’t want to get near me when I’m covered in dirt.”

  Tate wiped a shaky hand over her mouth and tipped her head back to look at him. “Why would I care about that?”

  “Most women do.” He studied her baffled expression.

  “You keep forgetting I’m not most women. Dinner is at seven thirty. If you want, you can shower here.”

  “You offering to wash my back?”

  “No. I’ve got a loofah on a stick for those hard-to-reach places. But I wouldn’t be opposed to scrubbing any other place you might need a little extra attention.” Her eyebrows wiggled. “Or a lot of extra attention.”

  Nathan wiped the sweat beading on his forehead with the heel of his hand. “You are killing me, you know that?”

  “I’m trying.”

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B

  Cincinnati OH 45249

  Falling Softly

  Copyright © 2014 by Mari Carr & Jayne Rylon

  ISBN: 978-1-61921-609-9

  Edited by Amy Sherwood

  Cover by Valerie Tibbs

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: October 2014

  www.samhainpublishing.com