And then Minerva Pfister, who weighed ninety-eight pounds, had started to throw her weight around. It turned out that she was a member of the Elder Hearts Foundation Board of Directors. So was Seymour Steiner. All it took were a few phone calls to other members of the board, who were outraged when they heard how Mazie had been treated. They had unanimously voted to demand the resignation of Roger Thorndike, who had always been unpopular anyway. After some brief wrangling, the board members had agreed to offer the position of Elder Hearts Foundation director to Mazie Maguire.
Mrs. Pfister had written a note, which she’d stuffed in an envelope along with an employment contract, and asked Lester to hand-deliver it to Mazie on Saturday morning. If Lester hadn’t stopped by with the envelope, Mazie thought, if he hadn’t noticed the open door and the knocked-over furniture, if he hadn’t used his computer wizardry to find her and Shayla—things might have turned out entirely different.
But she didn’t want to dwell on that right now, not on this glorious day. Director! Her! What a joke! She had absolutely no administrative experience, but she figured she could fake it for a few weeks until she figured out how to do the job, which—astoundingly—came with a hefty salary.
Mazie had been asked to start immediately, but she’d been forced to spend all of Sunday and Monday talking to various law enforcement agencies, so today had been the earliest she could start moving into the Elder Heart director’s office. She didn’t really have much to move in—just a few books and photos and her jade plant—but she didn’t have a chance to hang a single photo because people kept popping in all day.
First there’d been Magenta, who had ripped down Roger Thorndike’s hideous olive green velvet drapes and was now measuring the windows for blinds. Then Mr. Steiner had stopped in, pink-cheeked and healthy-looking, bearing an enormous bouquet of white roses for Mazie, whom he credited with saving his life. They’d hugged and shed a few tears together, and while they were still wiping their eyes, two workmen had marched into the office hauling something long and bulky on their shoulders, which they’d unrolled with a flourish on the floor. It was a rug, a stunning Persian rug in shades of ivory, rose, and yellow.
“A Karastan,” Mr. Steiner said. “Finest you can put on your floor, and I know carpets. I sold them for fifty years. Now this one here is not just any old rug—this is a magic carpet.”
“A magic carpet? I’ve always wanted one of those,” Mazie said. “But I can’t possibly accept such an expensive—”
“Pish, tush—of course you can. Consider it a wedding present,” Mr. Steiner said.
Word had gotten around fast, Mazie reflected. You tell one elderly lady your secret and suddenly the whole world knew.
“So you’re marrying that photographer guy?” Mr. Steiner asked.
Mazie nodded.
“Well, gosh darn it all. I was sort of hoping to marry you myself.” Mr. Steiner grinned. “You did kiss me on the lips and all.”
She kissed him now, on both cheeks, and on the lips, too—which made him smile—and promised that she would come to visit him soon at his house because he had a whole new repertoire of jokes he wanted to try out on her.
“Wait!” she called as he started to leave. “You still haven’t explained why it’s a magic carpet.”
Mr. Steiner winked. “You’ll just have to find out for yourself,” he said.
Flora McDonald, another of Mazie’s Vittles Van clients, arrived then, her small body almost invisible behind an enormous basket of homemade doughnuts. As though drawn by the aroma, Mazie’s co-workers from the kitchen began to dribble in to congratulate her on her sudden turn in fortune and help eat the doughnuts.
Juju and Lester stopped in for a tour, and Lester ordered pizzas for the entire staff. Lester had discovered the joys of buying things for people. He’d already purchased a new car for Juju, a Caribbean cruise for both of them—and the Brewer City Brawlers Roller Derby team, which would be receiving new equipment, new uniforms, and big bumps in salary.
Minerva Pfister stumped in, using her walker. Mazie tearfully embraced her, thanking her for everything. Mrs. Pfister cried. Mazie cried. Magenta, Lester, and Juju cried. It was a therapeutic and long-overdue tearfest that left everyone feeling good afterward.
Mazie was just starting to unpack her photos when Eddie Arguello and Rico Del Toro swaggered into her office, offering to help Mazie with her moving. This help consisted of slouching in the office chairs and eating up the leftover doughnuts and pizza.
When Rico left in pursuit of a pretty young Elder Hearts employee, Eddie stayed behind, spinning around in the swivel chair and looking moody. “What’s up?” Mazie asked.
“Shayla. She’s like—today’s the last day I get to see her. Tomorrow she goes into witness protection.”
While the asylum had burned to the ground and the most dangerous motorcycle gang in the Midwest had been taken down, Eddie and Shayla had been busy falling for each other. Shayla considered Eddie her rescuer, and Eddie considered Shayla the most beautiful girl he’d ever met, who by some cruel stroke of fate was technically an adult while he wouldn’t turn seventeen for another few months.
“Look at it this way,” Mazie said, taking half of the last doughnut before Eddie could get to it. “By the time the trial is over and Shayla is out of witness protection, you’ll be almost eighteen and Shayla can kiss you as much as she wants without feeling guilty.”
“Uhh …” Judging by the guilty smirk on Eddie’s face, a lot of kissing had already taken place.
Good, she thought. Eddie and Shayla were perfect for each other. Eddie would show Shayla what it was like to have a boyfriend who knew how to treat a girl, and Shayla would be the older woman Eddie had always wanted.
It was late in the day before everyone finally left and Mazie found herself alone for the first time since becoming director. The room was quiet and filled with the fragrance of roses. Mazie didn’t really care how Magenta decorated this place. She didn’t plan to be in here that much anyway. Just because she now had a fancy title, she wasn’t going to give up delivering lunches to her peeps.
Footsteps sounded in the hall outside and Mazie knew even before the door opened that it was Ben Labeck. They’d barely had time to speak to each other the past two days. There’d been endless interviews with law enforcement people, and then Ben had been called in by the manager of his station, who was furious with him for leaving his assignment at the zoo—an offense that could have resulted in his being fired. But since he’d shot two hours of spectacular footage of the burning asylum and the roundup of a notorious motorcycle gang on a borrowed video camera, WPAK had scooped every station in the country and Ben had been given a bump in salary.
Mazie had tried to phone Ben a couple of times today, but both times her call had gone to voice mail. An unsettling thought had occurred to her. Maybe Ben had recognized her caller ID number—she’d gotten her cell service restored—and was deliberately not answering. She hadn’t left a message because she couldn’t say what she really wanted to say over the phone. Have you changed your mind? Did you mean the things you said, or were they the kind of thing you say as your fingers are slipping off the edge of a cliff?
Her eyes sought his as he strode across the room toward her, and in that moment she had her answer. Her heart loop-de-looped, and then she was in his arms, and he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back, and all doubts vanished from her mind. Finally they broke apart, breathing hard, smiling at each other.
“Look at you,” he said, standing back. “Miss Chief Executive. Is that a new outfit?”
“Magenta’s idea. He thought I ought to look professional for my first day.” She was wearing a pale gray silk jacket with a matching skirt, a coral shell, and heels—the most inconvenient getup possible for a day spent hauling boxes and bending over file cabinets. A thorn from the roses had somehow snagged her panty hose and she had a big run.
“You look good.” Ben hooked a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I kind of like the mud-s
meared, granny panties, commando look.” He toyed with the silver chain at her neck, and his voice had a slight catch as he murmured, “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
“About what?
He nuzzled her neck. “About marrying me.”
She let her kiss be her answer. “Have you changed yours?”
“Hell, no.” His mouth moved to her collarbone, his hands moved to her breasts.
“Ben. We can’t—someone might see.”
“Right.” He released her, marched to the door, slammed it shut, locked it, then turned to her with a hungry expression that made it clear exactly what his intentions were and which gave Mazie a hot, delicious cowlick to cho-cho shiver.
They sank down onto the new rug and discovered that it was kind to knees, posteriors, and other parts of the anatomy.
Ben raised himself on one elbow. “I really like this carpet.”
“It’s a gift from Mr. Steiner. He said it was a magic carpet.”
“Yeah? The kind that flies? Let’s find out.”
Much too urgent to be gentle, Ben helped her out of her clothes. The panty hose drove him insane; he muttered an obscenity, wadded them up, and lobbed them into a corner. Bra and underpants—off in seconds. No grannies today—silky pink hip briefs that matched her bra.
She helped Ben with his clothes, skinning the shirt off his body, brushing her hands across his broad chest, running them along the flat planes of his abdomen, then reaching down to undo his belt and his zipper. He gasped in pleasure as she touched his penis, which was growing by the second.
“Slow down, Mazie,” he said hoarsely, “or I’m going to disgrace myself.”
Somehow they got the rest of his clothes off, and then he was naked next to her. She loved the feeling of his skin, his rough beard on her cheek, loved the way that she could make him groan with pleasure, skimming her hands over his thighs, his buttocks, his beautiful back—cupping and stroking his testicles. She was starved for him; she could never get enough of him.
Their lips touched, their tongues twined, and the way he touched her nipples ignited every nerve ending in her body, made her cry out for more. His big, rough hands were astonishingly clever at finding all of her hidden sweet spots, making her arch her back, wanting him everywhere at once.
His head moved lower as he kissed her abdomen, her belly, her thighs, and then she raised her legs to give him access to her core. He teased her slick flesh, making her gasp in pleasure, knotting her hands into his hair and pulling him down. He found her clitoris, rigid and quivering, and flicked it with his tongue. It made her wild and she pushed upward at him in desperation, wanting more, needing more, her entire body taut. Then he sent her over the edge, and she convulsed as pleasure rippled outward through her entire body. Before she could draw breath he clutched her ass in his hands, raised her body, and then thrust into her with hard, urgent strokes, propelling them both toward still higher realms of pleasure. Mazie’s entire body quivered as another orgasm built up. She hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly, surging through her body in escalating waves, giving her a pleasure so intense, it was almost painful. Feeling her clench around him, Ben began to climax, uttering a groan that seemed to come from the depths of his belly, going rigid in every muscle, and then releasing.
Later, they floated gently back to earth.
Ben’s eyes were closed, his long lashes dark against his cheeks. She watched him as he opened his eyes and smiled at her. “The old guy was right. This carpet is magic.”
Ben was magic. She felt sated and satisfied in every pore of her being, and she was so happy, she felt she might burst with it.
They were quiet for a moment, then Mazie said, “I tried to phone you today. I kept getting your voice mail.”
“Sorry about that—I was on the phone a lot. Phoning my relatives, telling them the news.”
“About us?”
“About us getting married. By the way, my mom wants you to call her as soon as possible. To talk about wedding stuff, I guess.”
She groaned. “Too soon.”
“The sooner the better, as far as I’m concerned.” He bent down to kiss her shoulder. “Had any thoughts about our wedding?”
The sexiest man alive was definitely stirring again, and he seemed to be eyeing the swivel chair, as though wondering whether it could bear the weight of a sitting man and a woman with her legs wrapped around his waist. After all, if a rug could be magic, other furniture might have possibilities, too.
“Well …” Mazie stroked his chest. “There’s something I need your opinion on.”
“Go ahead, shoot. Have I ever been wrong?”
“I can’t decide who to ask to be my maid of honor. Juju or Magenta.”
Ben laughed. “Let them duke it out. My money’s on Juju. Need my opinion on anything else? Like what you should wear on your wedding night?”
Mazie already knew the answer, but asked anyway. “What?”
Ben smiled. “Absolutely nothing.”
To the two sexy men in my life
Acknowledgment
I’d like to thank my wonderful agent, Andrea Somberg, for her help in finding the right home for the Escape Diaries series. Also Randall Klein, who coaxed a coherent narrative out of my first two unwieldy books, and my current editor, Sue Grimshaw, who manages to keep a myriad of balls in the air at the same time, possibly using supernatural powers. As for my fabulous copy editors—you make me look better than I am. With Ben and Mazie finally riding off into the sunset, I want to thank everyone on the Loveswept staff for all their patience, hard work, and creativity in making my books a success.
BY JULIET ROSETTI
The Escape Diaries
Crazy for You
Tangled Thing Called Love
The Sexiest Man Alive
PHOTO BY DEE MADDEN
A native of Wisconsin, JULIET ROSETTI grew up on a dairy farm, where she neglected her weedpulling and cow-milking duties in favor of reading every book she could get her hands on. At various times in her life, Rosetti has worked in an aluminum factory, coached cricket, competed in a beauty pageant, and sold encyclopedias door-to-door. Writing romances is her favorite job so far because it almost never involves wearing bathing suits or shin pads—although she sometimes dons her lucky tiara. Juliet Rosetti lives in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, with her husband and son and is currently working on a mystery novel.
julietrosetti.net
The Editor’s Corner
July is a month of celebration—Independence Day is a holiday we remember with picnics, parades, and fireworks. I feel like celebrating this month’s Loveswept releases in the same way; they make me want to shout in jubilation to let the world know about all our fantastic summer reads.
Coinciding with the heat of the summer we begin with Shelley Ann Clark’s Loveswept debut, Have Mercy, where two damaged souls discover that when they’re together, their bodies hit all the right notes. Following that is USA Today bestselling author Stacey Kennedy’s next installment in her successful Club Sin BDSM series, Desired, featuring the hotly anticipated Kyler. Continuing with the warmth of the season comes New York Times bestselling author Tracy Wolff’s long-awaited sequel in her Ethan Frost series, Addicted. Then more love on the lam with Juliet Rosetti’s The Sexiest Man Alive, continuing Mazie’s on-again-off-again relationship with certified hottie Ben Labeck. Jennifer Chance’s Fake It then sparks some serious combustion between a sexy biker and a corporate go-getter who’s ready to let her hair down. And finishing up the month is Lavinia Kent’s sumptuous novel of sensual discovery, Mastering the Marquess.
Classic Loveswept relaunches another of our favorites, A Tough Man to Tame, by New York Times bestselling author Iris Johansen—the unforgettable story of a brilliant young woman and the sexy financial wizard with the power to make her dreams come true.
And ladies, don’t miss Flirt’s release of Awaken, book two in Lori Adams’s Soulkeepers series, featuring the hottest love triangle in this life—or the ne
xt.
See, I told you July deserves a great celebration!
∼Happy Romance!
Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher
Read on for an excerpt from
Tangled Thing Called Love
Life and Love on the Lam
by Juliet Rosetti
Available from Loveswept
Chapter One
Beauty is only skin deep,
But ugly goes clean to the bone.
—Dorothy Parker
Fawn Fanchon was seventeen years old when she walked into a swamp and disappeared from the face of the earth.
She had wide-set hazel eyes, glossy dark hair, and a heart-shaped face. She was five feet five, a slender, long-legged girl who managed to pull off chic even in Goodwill jeans and dollarstore jewelry.
She disappeared the evening she was crowned Miss Quail Hollow. Her fellow contestants, mostly the tall, athletic blondes Wisconsin grows like sunflowers, included a cheerleading captain, a homecoming queen, and a state tennis champion. They were girls whose mothers bought their daughters pageant gowns from Neiman Marcus, whose fathers were small-business owners and insurance agents, whose families sat down to the dinner table every night for well-balanced meals and discussions of world events.
Fawn’s mother had died three years earlier from a ruptured appendix, her father drove a forklift at a birdseed plant, and her family, who depended on food stamps, often had suppers of microwave popcorn, eaten in front of the television at ten thirty at night.
All the other girls wore bikinis for the swimsuit competition, but Fawn wore a one-piece bathing suit she’d borrowed from an aunt, managing during her brief spin down the runway to look classy while making the bikini-clad girls seem slightly trashy.
For her talent number, she belted out “Summertime” in a surprisingly powerful alto. Nobody had realized Fawn could sing. The Girls from Good Homes had barely registered that Fawn was in the competition. Yet when the preliminary scores were posted the day before the finals, there was Fawn Fanchon’s name, leading all the rest.
The Sexiest Man Alive: Life and Love on the Lam (A Loveswept Contemporary Romance) Page 26
