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by Michelle Levigne
Description: When Blade Hampton, ex-Federal agent, met Jen Holt, she knocked him off his feet. Literally. Then he learned she was partnered with his ex-partner, Ray, trying to steal back a stolen painting. Blade didn't trust Ray when it came to clever, sharp, pretty girls, and it was his duty to make sure Jen didn't end up with broken bones or a broken heart. Right? He had to join them on this job. It made sense. Right? Jen had grown up taking care of everyone else, and kept her heart safely armored to avoid complications. She knew she sucked at romance, so why did she let Ray talk her into pretending to have an affair with Blade as part of their cover story? It should have been an easy job, sneaking around an island on Lake Erie, pretending to be security consultants, playing their host for a fool, and pretending to be married to Ray while she had an affair with Blade. So why was it, every time she looked into Blade's gray eyes, everything got so complicated?
eBook Publisher: Amber Quill Press, 2005
eBookwise Release Date: May 2005
17 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [362 KB]
Reading time: 242-338 min.
"Keep your hands where I can see them," Blade Hampton rumbled in a voice like a melted box of chocolates, and stuck something in Ray's back.
Jen paused as that voice twisted inside her chest. Why did he have to sound like that?
"I don't have any money," Ray said, raising his hands. His voice wobbled and rose half an octave.
Jen muffled a snort when she got close enough to see Blade used a roll of Life Savers in lieu of a gun. Another wise guy, huh? Two could play at that game.
The game was even better with three.
"You think I'm stupid?" Blade sneered and reached to pat down Ray's right side.
Jen caught his left ankle with her right foot and jerked hard while pulling on his right elbow. She caught his shoulder as he twisted off his center of balance and slammed him to the floor without endangering a single false nail.
"What you are, is flat," she said, and finished the job by shoving down hard with her heel, grinding his shoulder into the tile floor. The arch of her foot rested on the knob of his collarbone. His five o'clock shadow tickled the tips of her toes. She had the nauseating urge to giggle at the sensation.
He had gorgeous, storm gray eyes. Even more beautiful and mesmerizing than in the photo in Ray's computer files.
Those eyes, right that moment, could see up her skirt.