The Texas Senator’s Sons 1
Damon
Can a lonely florist meet a hot cowboy, become a stripper, get snared in an FBI investigation, and fall in love in one week? Absolutely!
Meet Regan O'Connor, who plunges into a world of stripping and fabulous sex with Damon Radcliff, who fails to mention that he's the Texas senator's son. That little tidbit of information would have been helpful to know before Regan got herself involved in Damon's idiotic scheme of proving his brother's stripping fiancée is up to no good. Regan steps into the shady world of stripping to find that the fiancée-to-be is a very bad girl and more.
All Regan ever wanted was to look back on her life and know that she lived for the moment and smile while reminiscing. She gets that and more. Regan also finds her inner stripper, confidence in herself, unimaginable sex, and an adventure of a lifetime.
Genre: Contemporary, Western/Cowboys
Length: 43,227 words
DAMON
The Texas Senator’s Sons 1
Hennessee Andrews
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
DAMON
Copyright © 2012 by Hennessee Andrews
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-543-1
First E-book Publication: June 2012
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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DEDICATION
To my mother-in-law, who finally understands what phone sex is all about.
DAMON
The Texas Senator’s Sons 1
HENNESSEE ANDREWS
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
“Good afternoon, sir!” Regan smiled as she busied herself with an arrangement of fresh, sparkling white daisies. “Be with you in a minute!”
The man didn’t have a clue, she thought. He walked around the shop in a daze looking at various floral designs and live plants.
Regan chuckled softly to herself while she tidied up her work area. Thank goodness she was here to save all the poor souls. In the last five years she had seen them all. Most of the time it was the average—men who wanted to say I love you, simple really.
Business had been slow up until three years ago with the slumping economy and increasing unemployment rate. If people were saying “I love you” or “get well soon,” they hadn’t being doing so with flowers.
Her business had been in its infancy and on the verge of bankruptcy when her big mouth helped her out, literally. What really made her business boom and take off was her free-advice-with-purchase catch. Who knew? Five years ago she was struggling with a small floral shop in Dallas and within two years, boom! Success.
With little repeat business, and earnings only marginal, she had known she would need a plan. Then, presto! A man strolled in and ordered roses! She just couldn’t take it anymore, just roses! Red at that!
Variety was the spice of life. At least that’s what Regan always understood. So in came the man, midthirties, doing the I better do something roses thing. He was utterly naïve to be polite about it. “I need a dozen red roses,” he said with a less than sincere tone.
Regan gave him a sympathetic look. “Anniversary?” She frowned. They were so easy to read.
“Yes, how did you know?” the man asked, bewildered and dumbfounded.
“Easy guess, really. You asked without a smile, for starters.” She winked.
“Interesting, what does that tell you?” The man furrowed his eyebrows with a small grin on his face.
Regan couldn’t help herself, and the verbal barrage tumbled out. “That you’re bored…” She clicked her nails on the counter, looking for the right words. “Your marriage has fallen into a scheduled routine…ho-hum existence. Work five days a week, sex...down to hmmm…once a week or less.”
The man went pale. With a sigh, he scrubbed his chin. “Wow-um…” he stuttered. Regan saw that her words had hit home—the truth hurt.
“No judgment here.” Regan grasped for words, sure she had ruined a sale, and that was so not what she needed at that time.
“No…really, you’re dead on.” The man’s eyes blinked once, twice. He pursed his lips tightly, and looked deep in thought.
“Sir, if I offended you, I apologize, really. I seem to have lost control of my mouth.” Regan watched the man, sure that the next words out of his mouth would be “Piss off!”
A chuckle broke through the stale, quiet air. Regan felt her eyes grow wide as she watched JQ Customer laugh. That was the nickname she gave men without a clue. Uh-oh, she thought, he has lost it. Married life and his anniversary had scrambled his brains. No sale.
“You know,” he said then paused. His smile fell solemn as he adjusted his tie, and his eyes told of unhappiness, sorrow. “When we got married, we were wild about one another…sex everyday!” A smile curved at the corner of his mouth as he reminisced about the past. “Then…” He paused as if trying to find the singular answer to what went wrong and when.
Regan jumpe
d in. “Then life happened!” She smiled and could see that deep inside the shell of a man that stood before her was a man begging to be released from the hell of a ho-hum marriage.
“Yeah, life.” He repeated her statement and looked to her for guidance, advice…anything. “You know, when we got married I thought we would have grand adventures…maybe travel, see the world.” He sighed. “Then we bought a house, needed to work extra hours to renovate…”
“Life’s a bitch, huh?” Regan agreed, nodding.
“Yeah…I just…I just don’t know how we…damn it!” He pulled his tie loose, as if he was thinking of all that it signified presently. “I just want to take off and do something! Anything! Something reckless, fun! Maybe Vegas.”
Regan smiled. The man had heart and vigor for life deep inside. And she felt the need to help him out. “Well, I only see one solution.”
The man’s eyes flickered brightly in anticipation. “What? Help me.”
Regan typed a quick search into her laptop with a grin on her face. By the looks of the man in the suit, he had means to money or quick money via a credit card. “Well, looks like two can fly to Vegas and stay at the Bellagio for under nine hundred. What a deal!”
“Nine hundred, huh?” The man pondered her words for a moment. “But when would we have time?” He turned and began to pace.
Regan could almost see the wheels turning. It was Friday, 1:00 p.m. This was a no-brainer.
“Really, there’s no time better than the present. Live for the moment! Grab life and your wife, and tell the world to kiss off!” She laughed. That was a little overboard, but really, she needed to build a fire inside this man.
He chuckled, and a meaningful grin washed over his once-discontented face. “Spontaneous, just buy the tickets and go, just go!”
She could see his elation and excitement. In less than five minutes she had turned a beaten-down man stuck in the carpool lane into Mr. Enthusiasm. Way to go, Regan! She gave herself a mental pat on the back.
“So, should I send the roses? Maybe a card telling her what we’re going to do?” Words tumbled out of his mouth as he paced again.
“Red roses, no. They say, ‘I couldn’t think of what else to do so I bought these roses.’ Now, an exciting, one-of-a-kind flower arrangement, yes!” Regan bubbled over with enthusiasm. She was already starting to mentally picture the type of arrangement that stated fun, sex, and reckless adventure.
“What do you suggest?”
“I suggest you use that laptop and book your flight! I’ll handle the flowers. Oh, and on the card you should write…” Regan thought quickly. “Forget the luggage. Meet me at the airport at six!”
That had been three years ago. She received a nice postcard from Vegas from the happier couple, thanking her, and since then, a bottle of expensive wine on their anniversary every year.
One thing led to another until a snowball effect took place. Soon her shop was a buzz of business, especially from the male sector. So many men and so many different scenarios played out, from the occasional marriage proposal to the sorry I ran over your cat floral arrangement. That one was interesting.
What was enjoyable the most for Regan was creating over-the-top designs and kicking traditional to the curb. Some would say her arrangements were garish and extreme, but people loved them, and each year, women anticipated their one-of–a-kind bouquet with extra perks, and the men savored the end results.
It didn’t take long until a story about her business was published in the Dallas Business Journal, and business boomed again, so much so that she had to hire extra staff to help her keep up. Weddings became the new bread and butter for the shop as modern brides wanted new and exciting flowers and not traditional arrangements like their parents.
Life couldn’t get any better for Regan, or so she thought. She was experiencing her dream come true and becoming quite wealthy, too. At twenty-nine, she was reveling in business, success, and embracing the single life…kind of.
“Sorry for the wait, sir, what could I do for you today?” Regan asked as she threw the last remnants of stems into the waste can.
“Hi, um…I need your help, and I…wow, I feel like an idiot here.” The man spoke nervously as he poked his hands into his pockets.
Regan smiled sweetly. She could sense what was coming. This particular man wanted a date with a woman and was too shy to ask. She had seen this, oh, about a hundred times in the last few years.
“You have come to the right place! And don’t feel like an idiot, at least not here,” she said, reassuring him. Regan couldn’t be sure but felt that, for some reason, her personality and eyes put men at ease when they came in.
The man at her counter now looked to be in his mid-thirties. He smiled and exhaled. He was nice looking, not a drop-dead-gorgeous guy by any means. But overall he was pleasant to look at, with his medium build, brown hair, and brown eyes. Nice bone structure, she thought as she tried to gauge his lineage. His olive skin hinted of Italian roots, but he lacked any other qualities.
“Well, I’m sure you have heard this before…” He started and took a quick glance around her shop to be sure they were alone. “There’s a woman that works in the same office complex as I do, and I would like to ask her out and…” he said, trailing off as his face reddened.
“I understand completely! Not to worry, the love guru is in!” Regan giggled as she reached for a pad of paper and a pen. She had some preliminary questions she liked to ask about the recipient of her creations so she was sure to dazzle them.
While she jotted down notes about the woman this man was so enamored with she didn’t notice another customer come in and sit down.
“Okay, let’s go over this.” Regan tapped her pen on the counter. Details, details. They went over her plan for him and how he was going to get her attention and keep it.
The man nodded and smiled at Regan as she offered her good advice. “Thank you…uh…”
“Regan, my name is Regan.”
“Well, thank you Regan.” His smile wasn’t forced anymore, and his nervousness had subsided somewhat.
“My pleasure, and if you get the date, drop a card in the mail to me. I love success stories!” She beamed, knowing her plan would work. This man would at least get a first date. After that, it was up to the two of them. It would either be a match and they would hit it off, or it would fizzle after the first date. There was only so much one woman could do, for crying out loud.
“I sure will.” He smiled as he paid her.
When the hopeful Mr. Lucky in Love turned to exit the shop, Regan noticed a gentleman sitting in the antique Victorian chair by the door. How in the world she didn’t notice tall, dark, and totally gorgeous walk-in, she didn’t know.
He sat quietly with a grin on his face as the hopeful man closed the door. His eyes were brilliant blue and spoke of confidence and control. But those weren’t the qualities that grabbed her attention right away. It was the starched Wranglers, expensive boots, and Stetson hat that did.
Underneath his cowboy exterior was a toned body built for sinning. His broad chest and thick arms told her he was no stranger to work. Yum. A strong jawbone, perfectly bronzed skin, and ooh-so–luscious, kissable lips called to her. Her eyes traveled his body extensively in seconds while the front door closed. Oh heavens, look at the prominence concealed behind that denim.
Heat exploded inside her like a newly awakened volcano while her heart thudded in her chest. Ooh, lawdy look what just walked through my door!
As he stood, Regan tried to calm the quivers that waltzed down her spine. After all, if he was in her shop, he was buying flowers for someone, and that someone was more than likely a woman. Oh, the gods have a sense of humor, not!
“Good afternoon, sir!” Regan said after she cleared her constricted throat. “What may I help you with?” She had ideas about what she wanted to help him with and it wasn’t flowers.
“So, here you are,” Tall, Dark and Handsome spoke with his hat in his hand. “The
one and only Regan O’Conner.” His voice was smooth and slow, like his vocal cords were coated in thick, dark, sinful chocolate.
Regan stood confused but yet on high alert. His body radiated sex on a grand scale, and her body registered it. Heat built in her pussy as his words vibrated in her ear. All the glorious ideas she had racing through her mind in mere seconds were phenomenal. She stood like a deer in headlights while he strolled toward her counter at an excruciatingly slow pace.
“Guilty,” Regan stuttered when he stopped a few inches away. Her breathing had hitched, and she fought for control. Get a grip, Regan!
He smiled wickedly as he ran his fingers around the brim of his hat. Regan’s eyes focused on his large hands and nimble fingers as she fought to regain her composure. Such strong-looking hands, she thought, then bashed herself mentally for thinking so. Gosh, all the places I would like to have his hands glide. Ooh, mercy!
“Then you’re just the person I have been looking for,” he drawled and gave her a wink.
“I–I am?” Regan stuttered again. Damn, she sounded like an idiot, she thought, and cleared her squeaking voice.
“Damon. Pleased to meet you,” he said as he extended his hand.
Regan slowly reached out. “Nice to meet you?” A question and statement melded into one.
If he was any other customer, she wouldn’t have been alarmed. But none of her other customers could even rank in the same category of hotness as Damon did. She was confused and inexplicably horny as hell instantly. Why was he looking for her? And why the need to introduce himself? Was he with the IRS or county license commission or something? Nah, couldn’t be, not dressed like that anyhow.
Damon [The Texas Senator's Sons 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 1
