by Dee Tenorio
Thomas’s amusement at that lightened the creases on his face. “She wouldn’t leave until Ophie talked to her. Which is funny because no one else has been willing to speak to her for weeks.”
“What?” Penelope forgot all about her robe, her eyes flaring wide. Raul’s hold took on more of her weight. She put her hand on his chest, her palm finding his heartbeat beneath the firm, warm muscle.
Thomas’s smile faded, but his eyes gleamed with pride. “When we found out what she’d done, not just to you and Chloe, but to Raul and the rest of us… It was wrong of her. Maybe if she had said the right thing, all these years wouldn’t have gone by without us knowing she belonged. Raul might not have missed so much of her life.
“I had a long talk with my wife. We all did, but nothing changed until your changa walked into the room and demanded what was hers.” Oh, he was definitely proud now. “Your mother didn’t tell me exactly what was said, but she did tell me there was no pretending Chloe wasn’t yours. Stubborn. Pushy. Rude. I think she did see you there, but more herself, when she was young, because the only thing she didn’t call that baby was fat, but she was smiling. Next thing I know, midnight Mass turns into a war party, planning the attack. Everyone agreed to meet here. To bring Christmas to you.” Thomas’s gaze centered on Penelope. “I don’t know that she can apologize the way she should, but she did this for you. To let you know you and Chloe are welcome. That she was wrong. It’s a start, no?”
She nodded, wanting to cry, never having expected her house to literally overflow with people. To feel so…homey. The voices in the kitchen rose, some with laughter, grabbing their attention before the next eruption of sound from the living room. She looked again at all the kids finding a spot in there to settle into. Most were on the floor. “But we’re going to need more chairs.”
Raul’s laugh against her ear made her smile. Happy as they’d been the last few weeks, she’d known separating from his family had been hard on him. The relief on his face, in his touch, had her rubbing her hand over his heart.
“We should get dressed,” he rumbled, his voice thick with emotion. She knew he could care less about being seen shirtless, he just needed some time to get his feelings under control. And she could see how getting some underwear on might make her feel a little more comfortable as well.
Before they moved, the older man reached out and took Penelope’s hand. His fingers felt both hard and worn, callused and fragile. He tugged her down a step, smiling again before kissing her cheek. “Welcome to the family, güerita.”
Thomas let go and started a slow path into the living room, shushing a kid over on the couch. Penelope stared, feeling both marked and a little nervous. Raul ushered her up the stairs again, into the bedroom where he hustled her into the shower. In seconds, it seemed, his hands were on her and his kiss was leaving her breathless.
“Wait.” She pulled back, pushing at his shoulders when he would have taken another taste of her. “Does your father think we’re engaged or something? He welcomed me to the family.”
Raul grinned. “No, he just knows when the writing is on the wall. I’m a taken man, querida. About the only one who didn’t know that was you.”
She could only smile back, but as she leaned in to kiss him something obvious hit her between the eyes. “Am I imagining things or did thirty people just come in my house, walking around like they own the place?”
“Sure did.” A kiss to her nose and, damn him, a quick squeeze of her rear. “That’s just part of being Montenga, sweetheart. Better get used to it.”
“We could also get better locks,” she said, when the squeeze turned into a slow caress.
“We could get padlocks and it wouldn’t change a damn thing.” He kissed her again, pressing her into the cool tiles while she giggled.
“I guess there are worse things in life than a holiday stampede.” She gasped when his fingers delved between her thighs to find her already wet for him. He stroked, his expression satisfied and sensual, his full lips curving upward when the gasp became a moan.
“And just imagine, querida,” his voice rumbled next to her ear, pleased and perfect, “for at least the next five minutes, you don’t have to think about a single one of them.”
About the Author
Dee Tenorio is a sick woman. Really sick. She enjoys tormenting herself by writing romantic comedies (preferably with sexy, grumpy heroes and smart-mouthed heroines) and sizzling, steamy romances of various genres spanning dramas with the occasional drop of suspense all the way to erotic romance. But why does that make her sick?
Because she truly seems to enjoy it.
And she has every intention of keeping at it!
If you would like to learn more about Dee and her work, please visit her website at www.deetenorio.com or her blog at www.deetenorio.com/Blog/.
Look for these titles by Dee Tenorio
Now Available:
Rancho Del Cielo Romances
Love Me Tomorrow
Betting Hearts
Love Me Knots
Kiss Me Again
Test Me!
Midnight Trilogy
Midnight Legacy
Midnight Temptation
Midnight Sonata
Coming Soon:
All of You
All or Nothing
As their passion catches fire, so does a killer’s vengeance…
Love Me Tomorrow
© 2009 Dee Tenorio
A Rancho del Cielo Romance
In the sleepy town of Rancho del Cielo, a killer arsonist is targeting firefighter Josh Whittaker’s friends, family and most importantly…the love of his life.
As fires encircle Josh’s life, his troubles mount. His best friend is dead. The woman he’d give his life to protect is pregnant. Secrets he’s held on to for years are spilling free. If he could just find his equilibrium, he could pull himself together. What he doesn’t know is that someone is dead-set on tearing everything he knows apart.
Losing a lifelong friend has finally awakened Miranda McTiernan to how much of her life has been spent in limbo. Now that she’s pregnant, a dream she never believed could happen, the reality isn’t quite what she’d expected. Instead of being happy and secure, she’s scared and hiding a secret that could ruin the future she’s worked so hard to create.
Assuming she has a future…
Warning: Includes a heroine out to get her man, a hero determined to do the wrong thing for the right reasons, and hormones gone wild.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Love Me Tomorrow:
She dripped water, her eyelashes carrying droplets and her mouth curved into a smile trained directly on him. Josh had a hard time pulling in a deep enough breath. Until some part of his brain not rendered stupid noticed something out of sync. It wasn’t her usual smile, the one that brightened her whole face and whole parts of his life. No, this one was confident. Pleased. Self-satisfied. Son of a bitch.
“Hey, Josh. I needed a swim, hope you don’t mind.”
Hairs on the back of his neck rose and tingled at the husky tone of her voice. Careful. Don’t let her know you’re on to her—whatever it was she was doing. Thankfully for his blood-deprived mind, it wasn’t hard to guess what that might be. “Nope. My casa is your casa, right?”
Miranda’s smile widened and she sauntered out to the lawn chair beneath the large patio umbrella. She lay below its shade, hiding from the direct beams of the sun, even though it was sinking behind the hills. She had to. Everyone in town knew she burned like a witch in Salem under direct sunlight. Anyone with a brain would know cream-colored skin like hers didn’t need sun anyway.
But he wasn’t supposed to have a brain right now.
So he watched her brush off all the excess water. Her fingers almost seemed to be caressing her own skin, over her forearms up to her shoulders, down her curved neck. He almost forgot how important breathing was when she ran her fingers over the slope of her half-exposed breast.
“Can you bring me a
beer?”
She hated beer and he knew it, but that didn’t register right away.
By the time it did, he’d already turned back into the kitchen and grabbed two from the fridge. He almost said something right then, but she turned to him with a diabetes-inducing smile. The little brat thought she had him exactly where she wanted, didn’t she?
“Josh?” She pulled a small bottle of lotion from her tiny terrycloth robe and started applying it to her arms and chest.
He watched, unable to decide which of them to be more disgusted with. Her for thinking he’d fall for this stupid plan to seduce him or himself for being dumb enough to almost prove her right. At her humming, he shook his head and sighed. She was moving so damn slow, the sun would be down before she ever got it applied everywhere it needed to be. “I haven’t seen that suit yet. Is it new?” he asked, handing her the beer, purposely keeping the entranced puppy look on his face. When her fingertips slid between her breasts, it took considerably less effort to do.
“Yup. It showed the most skin. It’s not very me, but I need an allover tan.”
He frowned, accidentally losing his stunned-stupid gaze. “What for?”
“Because men like tans. You turned me down. Now I have to attract someone else to be a father. I figure it’ll help.”
He screwed his brows together in consternation. “I thought you wanted the best family you knew for your baby.” Hadn’t she mentioned something about that when she was prattling about sperm donors? His eyes followed her oiled hands across her skin without his permission. How much lotion did two breasts really need?
Finally, she had mercy and moved on. The problem was that she reached around her ribs one side at a time, her inner elbows pushing the outer sides of her breasts inward so that the shining flesh pressed together and lifted upward and his brain began to throb. She arched her back and ran one palm down her smooth belly in a way that had his throat closing up. God help him if those searching fingers were going where he thought they were.
Instead, just as she touched the edge of that skimpy bikini line, she lowered her hips and strangely, his lungs deflated as if he’d been holding his breath.
“I did, but your family isn’t available.” She actually stopped to blink over at him with a saccharine grin. “Truth is, I don’t have to be so picky. We live in RDC. I’ve known just about every man here all my life. I know everyone’s family. There’s plenty of men to pick from.”
His breath stopped moving for entirely new reasons. She’d better not be thinking what he thought she was thinking. “You don’t really believe you can just talk someone into fathering a child for you?”
She gave a spurt of disbelief. “Are you kidding? No one is going to volunteer for that. Not with you constantly browbeating anyone who looks at me.”
He almost let himself sigh, relieved.
“So I’ve decided to become promiscuous. If I’m easy enough, no one will think about you at all.” She had the audacity to wink.
Do not choke.
“You’ve gotta admit, it’s the one thing I haven’t tried. Even you can’t beat up every man in town.”
Do. Not. Choke. Her.
He scratched the side of his head so hard it was likely bleeding. “Aren’t you overestimating here? I mean, not that you couldn’t get their attention, but there aren’t many available men just wandering around RDC, waiting for a promiscuous woman to fall into their laps.”
She stared at him incredulously, but he continued calculating which men in their tiny little town she had to choose from. Thankfully for his escalating blood pressure, pickings were slim. He knew most men close to their ages were married or just damn ugly. Except for the guys at the—
“What about the guys at the firehouse? I’m sure a few of them wouldn’t mind a tumble. What about Andy Raymond? He likes me. He probably wouldn’t turn me down if we went out on a date.”
Of course Andy wouldn’t. The kid left a trail of drool behind her whenever she was in the station. Josh’s brain skidded to a halt as he tried to think of a good way to deter her.
“No.” It was all that came to mind.
She turned innocent eyes on him. Some feat, considering that Miranda was the least innocent person he knew.
“Why not?”
“Why not? Why not?” Shit. Back to square one. “The gossips,” he finally dragged out of his ass.
“You think your baby would be able to live down your reputation after something like that?” Heartened by her blank blink, he picked up steam. “You know what this place is like. People are going to find out no matter what you do.” Her mouth quirked to one side. “I can afford to move.”
Of course she could. Her illustrated children’s books had been doing well for more than a few years. She could afford whatever she damn well wanted. But the thought of her leaving left him even colder than the prospect of her traipsing around with any guy she could find. He searched for another tack.
“You can’t leave your house. You love that house.” It was falling down around her ears because she refused to update it to safety code, but she loved it.
“I don’t have to sell it. I’ll figure that part out later.”
She continued rubbing the coconut-smelling concoction over her legs, lifting them straight up, one at a time, all but purring at the touch of her own hands. Josh scrambled for something else to think about other than her apparent flexibility.
“Well, it can’t be Andy, he’s only twenty-two.”
“Young is good.” She smiled lasciviously, eyes closed while she sighed, dropping her forehead to press against her shin, wearing a slow grin he could only call sinful. “I like a guy with…energy.”
He couldn’t contain a convulsion.
“Besides, it’s not as if I’m limited to just Rancho del Cielo. We’re not exactly in quarantine here. There’s available men in San Diego. Even Orange County if I want. I could sleep with any number of them.”
“You can’t go around having unprotected sex with people until you get pregnant! It’s stupid and it’s dangerous!” Trump card. It was one thing to let Miranda get away with manipulating him. It was something else to let her get into that kind of trouble with other men. She’d behave now, he was sure.
Except she looked like he’d just stolen her bunny. She lowered her leg and any trace of a smile melted away. Suddenly, she seemed so uncertain and almost afraid, he wanted to scoop her into his arms and just hold her for a while.
Which would lead in all the wrong directions. He had to make sure she understood, and comforting her wasn’t the way to go about it.
“I guess you’re right,” she conceded. “It’s not the same world out there as it was when we were kids. It wouldn’t be safe.” She took a moment to consider her options. “I guess that brings me back to young Andy.”
“Will you stop calling him young?” Josh rubbed his bleary eyes, willing away the idea she’d conjured of her and Young Andy Raymond. Damn, now she had him doing it.
“Who? You mean Young Andy? Young, young, young Andy Raymond.” She was too damn giddy about ruffling his feathers.
“Youth isn’t everything when it comes to sex. In fact, it’s usually detrimental.” He leaned toward her. “Experience goes a long way.”
“That’s a good point. Maybe not Andy. I mean, if I’m going to sleep around, I might as well enjoy it.”
Oh, for the love of God. “You’re not sleeping with anyone!”
“I don’t remember asking permission, Josh.” She rose to her feet, putting her hands on her bare hips in a few lithe movements he shouldn’t have noticed. Unnerved at facing her waist level, he stood too. Unfortunately, for him, the space between the two lawn chairs they’d been sitting on didn’t allow for two adults to stand. He ended up wrapping an arm around her still-wet form to steady them both, and she pressed flush against him. The mixed smell of coconut lotion and Miranda, tempered by chlorine and wide green eyes blinking in surprise, dizzied his senses.
Or maybe it
was just feeling her again, his body automatically taking her weight as if it still remembered the one time he’d been allowed. The time he’d been trying for years to forget. Now it was impossible to ignore the electricity he’d only ever felt with her. The air around them crackled almost audibly. His arm tightened on her at about the same time that she rose on her tiptoes and tentatively pressed her lips to his.
Can anything change in 24 hours? Can everything?
One Night in Napa
© 2009 Allie Boniface
Journalist Grant Walker has one chance to salvage his job and his relationship with his domineering father. When terrorists kidnap a fading film star’s son, he’s there to get the first interview with a grieving mother. Even better, her illegitimate granddaughter arrives on the scene—a granddaughter who hasn’t been heard from in seven long years. It’s the story of a lifetime, and all Grant has to do is deliver.
Kira March left her childhood home seven years earlier, vowing never to return after discovering a terrible secret about her birth. But when her father is taken hostage and her adoptive grandmother cracks under media pressure, it’s up to Kira to find and destroy all evidence of that secret. Trouble is, a reporter has weaseled his way into the house looking for answers—and he isn’t leaving until he gets them.
As the hours pass, Kira finds herself falling for the very man who can destroy her. And when Grant comforts her in the wake of a midnight tragedy, he discovers that reporting a story gets a lot more complicated when you have feelings for your interview subject. As dawn nears, both Kira and Grant are forced to examine the ways in which their fathers have shaped them—and the lengths they’ll go to protect and uphold the family name.
Warning: This title contains a hunky hero who thinks he knows it all, an unconventional heroine who’s out to prove him wrong, a ticking clock, family secrets, and enough sexual tension to heat every corner of an enormous mansion…especially when the power goes out
