He was sent to guard her body… he didn’t expect her to steal his heart.
Her sister’s wedding was hardly the place to find a hook up, but after one look at friend-of-the-groom and special operative Josiah Grant, small-town Texas beauty Magnolia West immediately fell in lust. After a stunningly sensual night together, Maggie is prepared for the two of them to go their separate ways. After all, she’s not a happily-ever-after kind of girl. But Josiah—and danger—change her plans.
Josiah isn’t looking for love…but Maggie rouses his body and stirs his heart like no other woman. She’s got a rocky romantic past, and a smart man would steer clear. But when the murder quotient in Kendall County rises and all signs point to a mysterious group nearby who have been harassing Maggie’s family, he can’t leave her unprotected—especially when he realizes he’s fallen hard for her.
As tension mounts and the menace closes in, Josiah will do anything to prove to Maggie that their love is real…but can they stay alive long enough to share it?
Maggie
was shocked to feel her hand tremble when she put her fingers in Josiah Grant’s
massive palm. He’d been more than nice to look at, and she’d already
entertained more than one fantasy about how hot he might look out of that sharp
charcoal-gray suit. But now that she was actually going to touch him, her brain
felt in eminent danger of short-circuiting. How the devil would she manage if
he actually kissed her? Peeled off her clothes? Thrust his hard cock—which
should be large, given the size of his hands—inside her?
She’d
combust on the spot.
“Sure,”
she managed to murmur while seeming somewhere between cool and detached. It was
her signature move.
As
they reached the dance floor, the party tune faded away, replaced by Ed Sheeran
crooning that he’d love the woman in his arms until he was seventy. As Josiah
pulled her close and began to sway to the slow beat, she peered up at him. Her
lashes fluttered, along with her heart. She sucked in a breath. God, she had to
stop being such a nervous idiot. He was a man. She was a woman. This would
probably be nothing more than a fling she’d enjoy the hell out of.
But
looking into his eyes, she wasn’t so sure. They weren’t blue or green or brown
or even hazel. They were more unusual. They were a glinting gray with a thick
fringe of lashes against tanned skin. That gaze, along with the buzz of his
brown hair, made him look somewhere between exotic and dangerous. And he was
staring right at her, looking entirely serious.
Mercy,
what was it about this man?
He
swallowed like maybe she got to him, too.
“So . . .”
She searched for a conversational topic to cut her nerves.
“So . . .”
He smirked in return.
“You
actually can dance. I’m impressed.”
He
let loose a laugh. “See? I’m a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them.”
Josiah
glided them around the floor effortlessly, turning her under his arm, reeling
her in closer, then settling his hot fingertips in the middle of her bare back
before he caressed his way down her spine and placed his palm close to her ass.
Lord,
he felt good. Maggie tried not to imagine how his fingers would feel skimming
her whole body with that soft, unhurried stroke. “Tell me . . .
Were you in the service, like Cutter?”
Josiah
shook his head. “CIA.”
Wow.
“That sounds dangerous.”
“The
mortality rate was higher than, say, for an accountant.”
“Why
do I get the feeling that’s an understatement?”
He
simply shrugged. Okay, he didn’t want to talk about it. Or couldn’t. She
respected that.
“How
long have you worked for EM Security?”
“About
a year. I signed on because I wanted to learn from the best. Then a few months
later, Caleb Edgington retired. Thankfully, his sons have proven anything but
amateur. What about you?”
Since
he’d done important things like save the world, he would laugh a million times
at what she’d chosen to do with her life. At least he’d never guess. It wasn’t
as if a guy like him would ever read an Azalea North novel. In fact, no one had
figured her secret out yet, not even her sister.
“I’m . . .
on hold right now. Shealyn has this big life to lead, and now she’s married. My
grandparents are needing more help as they get older. Papa fell last week.
Thankfully, he wasn’t hurt, but Granna can’t lift him. I barely can. And she
can’t remember to take her medicine half the time. They’re little issues, at
least right now. But they’re going to require more care in the coming years.”
“What
about your mom? Can she help?”
Maggie
bit back something pointless he wouldn’t understand and she’d probably regret.
“She lives in Costa Rica with her husband and my ten-year-old half brother. Up
until the last few months, she really hasn’t been in my life. We’re,
um . . . getting to know each other.”
“You
didn’t grow up with her?”
She
shook her head. “Long story.”
Hopefully,
he’d read between the lines. In her book, it was a closed subject. She still
wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about her mom. A few conversations didn’t
erase a whole childhood of resentment, but Maggie wasn’t the sort to hold on to
hate. And it wasn’t as if her youth in Comfort had been terrible.
“What
about your parents?” she said to fill what could become an awkward silence.
“Long
story, as well.”
In
other words, he had secrets he’d rather keep, too. Fine by her.
The
silence she’d been trying to avoid fell between them. Surprisingly, it wasn’t
awkward at all. But it was tight, full of awareness. She could feel herself
yearning to be closer to him. But what blindsided her was his desire for her.
It hung so thick in the air it was almost tangible. Like a blanket, it wrapped
around her, warmed her from the January chill that blew in under the tent. It
left her no doubt what he thought or wanted.
The
song ended. Neither one of them moved, simply stared. Those wicked fingertips
of his prowled their way up her bare back again, making her shiver, before
gliding down in a barely there caress.
“Josiah?”
“How
much longer do you have to stay at the reception?”
Half
dazed, she scanned the room. Her sister was wrapped in her husband’s arms on
the opposite corner of the dance floor. Granna and Papa had already retired.
Brea, bless her, had finally managed to calm her stomach enough to enjoy the
festivities. The rest of the guests had either left or kicked off their shoes,
started their third drink, and gotten ready to party.
“Not
another minute. Are you planning to take me to bed?”
He
cupped her cheek, looking like he wanted to kiss her. Instead, he backed away,
teeth gritted in restraint—for now. She had a feeling that moderation wouldn’t
last.
Josiah
took her hand. “Yes, I am.”
Shayla Black is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than sixty novels. For nearly twenty years, she’s written contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and historical romances via traditional, independent, foreign, and audio publishers. Her books have sold millions of copies and been published in a dozen languages.
Raised an only child, Shayla occupied herself with lots of daydreaming, much to the chagrin of her teachers. In college, she found her love for reading and realized that she could have a career publishing the stories spinning in her imagination. Though she graduated with a degree in Marketing/Advertising and embarked on a stint in corporate America to pay the bills, her heart has always been with her characters. She’s thrilled that she’s been living her dream as a full-time author for the past eight years.
Shayla currently lives in North Texas with her wonderfully supportive husband, her daughter, and two spoiled tabbies. In her “free” time, she enjoys reality TV, reading, and listening to an eclectic blend of music.
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