Witnessing too much of life’s seedy side led Brennan Marshall to live by three simple rules: work hard, play hard, and never fall for a sweet-faced female with a witty tongue and snappy comebacks. Especially the ones with a dollop of vulnerability—like Dana. But their razor-sharp sexual tension cuts right through his defenses and leads them on a dangerous journey.
One that will test the limits of their beliefs—and could cost their lives.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Marshall’s Law:
“What did Lucille tell you about these strange occurrences plaguing her?” he asked, leaning his arms on the desk.
“She called my mother a few weeks back. Mom said Aunt Lucille had this trembling voice, like she was scared. That’s not normal for Aunt Lucille. She bends under pressure but never gives in. She’s one tough lady. Anyway, Aunt Lucille said that she’d heard noises in the attic and in the basement. Especially the basement.”
“What kind of noises?”
Dana wished she hadn’t opened her mouth and mentioned the basement. “Uh…well…” She glanced up and saw he waited, twiddling his thumbs like he had all day. “You’re not going to believe this but—”
“Trust me, I’ve heard just about everything at least once.”
“Not this you haven’t.”
He tossed her a smile. “Humor me.”
“Okay. You asked for it. You know that big…uh…heart-shaped bed downstairs?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, she started hearing people having…” She squirmed in her chair and made a face.
“Go ahead. People what?”
“People having sex. She heard people having sex on the bed. But when she went downstairs there was no one there.”
Marshall never twitched. Yet Dana saw the suspicious twinkle in his eyes before he managed to smother it. Instead, he did something much more disturbing.
Rising from his chair, he came around the side of the desk and paced the broad area behind her chair. She craned around to watch him.
“What kind of sounds exactly?” he asked.
Her chair made an obnoxious protest as she turned it so she could observe his purposeful stride. Eight big steps one way, eight big steps back. Eight big steps one way, eight big steps back.
“I’m going to get hypnotized watching you do that. Would you mind taking a seat?”
He increased his pace. “I think better this way.” He came to an abrupt halt, leaned against the wall, cocked one booted foot across his ankle and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.
She gulped. Good thing he wore that flannel shirt. If he’d stood there in that tight T-shirt—
“What kinds of sounds?” he asked, jerking her back to the real world.
She couldn’t say it. Come on, Dana. You aren’t a blushing teen talking to a boy in high school. Spit it out.
When she didn’t answer fast enough, he walked toward her and rested his hands on the arms of her chair. She leaned back, inhaling a quick, startled breath.
“What are you trying to hide from me? Maybe you know something about the sounds?” The query came filled with subtle, sensual nuances that caused his voice to vibrate in his chest and made her tingle in places that shouldn’t be tingling.
In defense she crossed her arms. “Of course I’m not hiding anything.” When he glared, she took the plunge and elaborated. “You have heard people having sex before, haven’t you, Marshall? Gasps. Sighs.” She shrugged. “Grunts. Moans. She said it’s like people having sex, and they never get to…you know.”
A thunderstorm seemed to build in his eyes, but not the kind that promised rage. The type that guaranteed sinful, daring pleasures. She’d never seen a man look at her this way. Predatory and intense all at once, ready to eat her alive. No mistaking that look.
His lips parted and she stared at his mouth.
“No, I don’t know,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me?”
A tiny, rebellious corner of her almost refused to speak. What could he do to her anyway? Spank her?
A hot blush swept into her face. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. Marshall’s devouring gaze cruised over her face. His attention landed on her lips.
Crazy arousal spiraled through her, and she leaned forward until they almost touched noses. Dana couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so out of control and so turned on all at once. Hell, she’d never felt this way before. “These…these horny ghosts or whoever they are never get to finish—”
“Coming?”
Her entire body felt like it might go up in flames. Oh man! Why couldn’t he have said something like climaxing? Did he have to use a word that described the nitty gritty?
“Yeah. That’s it,” she said, licking her lips and swallowing hard. She slumped in the chair.
A terrorist plot puts their lives—and hearts—on the line.
Under Fire
© 2008 Beth Cornelison
When Jackson McKay and his daughter are kidnapped, their captors demand his research files on a devastating chemical weapon—or they’ll kill his little girl. Jackson searches desperately for a way to save his daughter and also protect his country from the terrorists. No risk is too great. His daring escape sets in motion a deadly game of cat and mouse.
Arriving at the scene of a wildfire, smokejumper Lauren Michaels and her crew are caught in the crosshairs of Jackson’s nightmare. Lauren is the only one who can lead Jackson off the burning mountain and to the police. In order to prevent a national crisis and save a child’s life, they embark on a treacherous journey—one step ahead of a sniper!
But more than their lives are at risk, because an unexpected heat flares between them that may cost them their hearts…
Warning: This title contains sex, strong language, some violence, smart men, courageous women, and heart-pounding action. Possible side effects of reading include racing pulse, missed sleep, and nail biting.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Under Fire:
Jackson gaped. “You’re a woman!”
Her no-shit-Sherlock glare rebuked him for wasting time with the obvious, but the pop of gunfire interrupted any verbal reply. Bark splintered from the tree beside him.
Jackson dove for the ground. He landed next to the woman, pain streaking through his shoulder. The smokejumper gasped and crab-walked through the leaves, scuttling away from him. Another crack echoed through the trees.
“Stay down!” He scrambled through leaves and thorny debris to tackle her, cover her with his body. Protect her.
She grunted and squirmed. Despite the sharp ache wringing his shoulder, he held on tight. No way would he let a woman get hurt in this nightmare if he could help it.
Damn it, a woman! The last thing he needed was another life to safeguard, another innocent snared in this macabre scenario.
With surprising strength, the woman used a wrestler’s move to flip him to the ground and pin him under her.
Lightning-hot pain slashed down his arm and up his neck. An agonized cry tore from him, and spots flashed before his eyes.
The smokejumper gazed down at him, winded, her breath hitting his face in gentle puffs. Under other circumstances, the position would be a turn-on. The woman wasn’t bad looking, even with dirt smudges on her cheeks and leaves in her hair.
Jackson squeezed the sleeves of her yellow fire shirt and snarled, “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a maniac shooting at us!”
“I’m well aware of that!” she growled back. “I’m trying to save your sorry ass!”
Jackson blinked. Scowled. “You’re saving my—”
Another bullet pocked the earth by his head.
“Shit!” With a hard tug on her arm, he twisted toward a cluster of barbed bushes.
The woman moved with him, and together they rolled into the briars. From their hiding place, she stretched her arm out and groped in the blanket of fallen leaves and pine needles. After a moment, she dug out the revolver she’d dropped and dragged it into the brush with them.
; “Can you shoot?” he asked.
She cut her eyes to his, hesitated. “I can shoot. What I hit is another matter.”
“Then I suggest you save your rounds until your target’s at closer range.”
She gave him another how-stupid-do-I-look look. Shifting to lie on her belly, she gazed out across the clearing again. “And just who is my target? Why is he shooting at us?”
Jackson rubbed his throbbing shoulder. Sighed. Where did he begin? “Suffice to say, he’s merciless and will stop at nothing to protect his interests.”
“What interests? C’mon, pal, you’re not making a lot of sense!”
“Mike!” a thundering voice shouted from across the open field.
The woman’s breath caught as another smokejumper staggered out of the woods across from them, dragging his right leg and clutching tree trunks for support.
She snatched the radio from her hip and jabbed the button.
“Boomer, get down! I’m all right. Oh God! Just stay outta sight. I’m on my way,” she said in a low rushed voice and started scrunching forward, out from under their cover.
Jackson grabbed for her wrist, a thorn gouging his arm in the process. “Hey, whoa!”
She tried to shake loose of his grasp, but he clung to her hand. “You can’t go out there. There’s no cover. Rick’ll pick you off like a fish in a barrel.”
“Rick? You know the guy that’s shooting at us?” She glanced back to her friend, and they watched Boomer slide to the ground and roll into cover behind a large pine.
“Not the way you mean.” Jackson struggled for a breath through the searing ache in his shoulder. “Look, he’s got a rifle with a scope. And a hell of a lot of other weapons in the van. He freaked when he saw you and your buddies jump from the plane. He doesn’t want anyone seeing him or reporting a van or—”
“The plane!” She raised her small handheld radio again. “Jump 49, this is Michaels. Do you read me?” When she got no response, she repeated her call to the aircraft. “We have a man down! Do you read me?”
Static crackled in the cramped space under the brambles. No one answered her call.
“Damn it,” she growled. “The repeater must still be out. They can’t hear me.”
The woman, Michaels she’d called herself on the radio, heaved a deep sigh and dropped her forehead to the walkie-talkie in her hand. “Please, God. Please.”
Jackson tried to shift, wanting a better view of the terrain. The movement shot pain through his arm again. He rubbed his shoulder, grimacing. “Geez-zus!”
The woman scooted toward him. “You’re hurt. Were you shot?”
He drew a ragged breath through clenched teeth. “No. It’s an old football injury from college. I aggravated it a couple days ago when Rick and his henchmen slammed me on the floor one time too many.”
Her dirt-smudged brow furrowed. “Come again? Slammed you on the floor?”
“Mike!” the same deep voice called across the clearing.
She jerked her attention back to the injured man across the clearing, concern creasing her face.
“Hang on, Boom. I’m coming. Where are Birdman and Riley? Who’s that in the clearing?” she said into her radio. Eyes closed, she waited for a response.
Jackson studied her. She seemed young, yet in control of her situation, her emotions. Even without makeup she had a fragile femininity about her, an appearance incongruous with the tough, take-charge smokejumper he’d witnessed so far. She glanced at him. “What’s your story? Why are you up here?”
Jackson tried to steady his breathing then summarized the past two days as succinctly as he could.
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head then frowned skeptically. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t. All you have is my word.”
She turned away, lifted the walkie-talkie again. “Boomer, it’s Mike. Do you copy?”
Nothing.
“Damn.” She huffed. “Listen…” Grabbing the front of Jackson’s Yale T-shirt, she shoved her face inches from his. Her green eyes blazed. “My partner is hurt,” she said, through gritted teeth. “Another man’s down over there, not moving.” Her voice broke, and the first flash of grief or fear flashed over her face.
She sucked in a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as if in defiance of the emotions. Once again composed, she grated, “I have to get over to them. Now!”
He knew the fire and determination that lit her eyes well. Intimately. Janine had had the same passion, the same grit.
“Ah, hell,” he muttered, holding her gaze. The energy and conviction in her eyes pulled him in, sucked him deep into their magnetic lure. Never again.
She averted her eyes and shoved him away. As she inched out from their hiding place, Jackson bit out a curse and followed.
“Wait! Go the long way around.” He pulled himself along the ground with one arm. “Stay in the cover of the trees and skirt the edge of the clearing. Keep out of sight.”
She glowered at him. “Anything else, Your Highness?”
He ignored her sarcasm. “Yeah. Lose the yellow shirt. You’re too visible.”
Still frowning at him, she climbed to her feet, staying in a squat, and looked down at her bright clothing. “Damn it, you’re right. Help me get this thing off.”
He crawled out and rose to his knees as she peeled the fire shirt down her arms. The T-shirt she wore under it was soaked in sweat and stuck to her like second skin.
Jackson’s breath lodged in his throat as he scanned her shapely body. Her arms had definition and tone that spoke of a rigorous fitness routine. Admiration tugged at him when he considered the rigors of her job and the effort involved, just staying in condition for those demands.
Jackson dragged himself to his feet, holding his left arm close to his body to minimize jostling his shoulder. “All right. Stay low or behind trees as much as you can. Let’s go.”
“You’re coming?”
“There a reason why I shouldn’t?”
“Well…you’d probably be safer under there.” She tipped her head toward the bush they’d just vacated. “Outta sight.”
“Probably. But I can’t hide forever. I want to help with your friend if I can.”
Her eyes brightened. “You’re a doctor?”
Jackson winced. “Not the kind you need.” When she frowned her confusion, he waved his hand, dismissing the comment. “Forget it. Ready?”
She glanced again across the field of wildflowers then at Jackson. “Okay. And…thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We still gotta lose Rick and his trigger finger.” Without thinking about what he was doing, he reached out to tuck a copper wisp of her hair behind her ear. The strands curled intimately around his finger in a silky caress that shocked him back to his senses. He snatched his hand away and cleared his throat. “Then you’re gonna help me find my daughter and get her off this mountain.”
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