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Category: Romance
Description: For some love lasts a long time, for others a lifetime. Can theirs outlast space-time? Randi's summer vacation plans? Attending Professor Sudo's Time Travel Academy so she can blast back to 1980 Miami and figure out where her father disappeared to. She's the head of her class until hottie Mitch arrives disguised as a geeky geologist and totally messes up her meditation. Goodbye Soulful in Sedona, hello Yearning in Yoga. So long solo time-travel, hello pushy partner--who happens to be a buff tri-athlete, a sympathetic listener, and an ace FBI agent on a top-secret mission. With his help, she'll conga her way into the Cuban mafia, try not to destroy the delicate fabric of the space-time continuum, dodge a few bullets, and solve The Mystery of the Missing Dad. And maybe fall just a little in love? Content Warning: A new adventure in women's fiction, with a heroine who boldly goes where no chick has gone before, tons of danger and intrigue, a roller-discoing Granny, life and death betrayal, steamy Miami nights and one hot FBI agent.
eBook Publisher: Lyrical Press, Inc., 2010 2010
eBookwise Release Date: March 2010

2 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [408 KB]
Words: 89623
Reading time: 256-358 min.

"Anyway, you call me Mitch." His grip on my hands loosened as he pulled one of his free and used it to tug my shirt down and then my shorts up. "I wish you'd stayed out of this," he said, sighing.

"What are you gonna do?"

His weight lifted off me. He rolled me over, then pinned my hands over my stomach and sat on my legs. Shaking his head, he looked from my hands to my face, then at my chest. Once again, he adjusted my top, tugging it down toward my shorts. When his hand grazed my bare tummy, I got butterflies. The laptop had gone quiet again and he must have heard my breath catch. His eyes met mine. Without the glasses hiding them, they were a deep green. To my eternal embarrassment, my nipples went hard, tickling against the knit eyelet fabric.

His turn for the rough sigh.

My question as to what he intended to do still hung in the air between us.

I knew what I wanted, what I'd wanted from him almost since the first time he'd spoken to me. That slick body of his pressing mine down into the mattress, his mouth--

His mouth descended toward mine. When his face was directly above me, he broke into a grin I could only describe as confident and boyish. A dimple appeared on his right cheek as he came lower. He let my hands go, leaned on his forearms on either side of my head, and his fingers brushed hair away from my face. He was still hot from his swim, the warmth radiating out from him to me.

His mouth was as smooth and firm as the rest of him. He tasted and smelled of pool as his tongue slipped between my lips, then teeth nibbled my upper lip. Sighing a sigh of contentment yet to be had, I opened my mouth to him, met his tongue with mine, arched my body up to meet his damp-suited area.

He groaned and then sat up. "We're not wearing enough clothes to be doing this," he said.

"Enough? Don't you mean we're wearing too much?" My body hummed with desire it hadn't known in months, maybe in years. I indulged myself and rested my palms on his pecs, which instantly tightened under my touch.

He gave a wry smile and shook his head. "Let's see here..." Still seated on me, he moved his gaze to the computer screen. "...the charges for trespassing and building an illegal rope bridge over the Colorado River in 92 were dropped."

My hands dropped back to my chest. "Don't tell me you're going to ruin this moment by reading my criminal record?"

His smirk told me he intended to do just that.

"God. You've got to be the only man alive who'd pass up guaranteed sex. What's wrong with you?"

"1993. Criminal mischief when basketball team toilet papered opposing team's bus. Miranda was found by investigating officer to be innocent of the act but served community service with the ringleaders for refusing to name the perpetrators." He looked back at me with narrowed eyes for a moment. "1997. Illegal bungee jumping, resulting in a fine. 1998. Unauthorized...rock climbing in a state park?" This time he looked shocked.

"We used a safety harness, okay? I did take the precautions. Can I go now?"

After a couple of mouse clicks and several seconds of reading the body of the message, he turned back to me. "How can a person be thirty years old and have a perfect driving record? Not a single ticket?" He sounded almost jealous. "You bungee, skydive, fly small aircraft, and rock climb, but you've never got a speeding ticket?"

"Hey, I'm careful on the road. You know how many people die in car accidents every year?"

"I think there are two personalities in that pretty head of yours."

Though I loved the compliment, I borrowed his tactic of changing the topic back to him.

"So are you gonna tell me why you're checking my background, Wheels?"

"No. I'm not. And you, Ms. Drew, are not going to sneak around and poke into my business anymore. Got it?"

"So that's it? You...you...you kiss me into complacency, then give me a pat on the bottom and send me off to bed where I'll go to sleep like a good girl?"

"Pretty much. Because if you don't behave, I'll make sure you never get to see how much energy your chakras can hold, shortie. If you jeopardize my case, you will not be traveling back in time. Any questions?"

That anger flaring inside me wasn't productive. I had to channel the energy to help find out what he was up to. "Case. So you admit, you work for the government. Are you with the Space-Time Continuum Agency? The FBI? CIA? DEA?"

"There really is only one way to shut you up, isn't there?"

"Oh, don't even think about kissing me again. I don't kiss blackmailers." Which was rather a bummer.

He laughed at me. "I like to think of it as coercion, rather than blackmail. Come on, N.D. Time to get you back to your own room." When he stood and wrapped his towel around his middle to hide his bulging swimsuit, I couldn't help noticing all the dark smudges on one side of the towel. Were they from his fake tan wearing off? No, those smudges would be orange, like his skin.

"What?" he asked.

"What's your natural hair color?"

"Christ. Of all the broads to get stuck with on this case." With a firm hand on my arm, he led me from his room back to my own. At my door, he cupped my chin with his free hand. "You really are more trouble than I'm prepared to deal with." He planted a soft kiss on my lips, said simply, "Lock your door," and left.

Dear Randi,

It happened. Oh my God. The Near Miss Kiss became a head-on reality, and it was no accident. Good thing for all that Spandex in his Speedo, too, because it was stretching very much when he walked me to my door.

Excuse me while I go and relive it a couple thousand times.

Randi the Thoroughly Kissed

Note to self: I want him--deal with it!