Close to Heart (24 page)

E
VERYONE KNOWS BY
now that I’m long-winded, but I’ll try to keep this one short and sweet! First, I want to thank my editor, friend, and, at times, my nemesis, Rebecca Lucash. You are simply the best and know exactly where to push me and when I’ve given my all. I can’t thank you enough for all of the tireless hours and effort you have put in to make me shine.

I want to thank my superhero, Suzie Townsend of NewLeaf Media. You have been my champion even when I didn’t realize I needed one. I can’t brag enough about how wonderful you are! I only hope to achieve half of what you foresee and work so diligently toward accomplishing. You have opened my eyes to a wonderful future ahead.

Thank you, readers, for constantly asking for more. When I sit down and ideas come at me with lightning speed, you are the first people I think of. You are who I want to transport into the world I live in, and I thank you so much for taking the journey with me each time.

I want to thank my writing friends for the many days of support, lifting, encouraging, and butt-kicking needed to get this series out of my head and onto the page. You have stood beside me through tears, whining, and celebrations, and there is no one better to party with (in person or online) than you guys!

And the biggest thank-you of all goes out to my family. You have been my greatest supporters, picking up the many days of slack that is left when I have disappeared into my “writing cave” and needed space to think. Whether it includes fixing meals, feeding animals, or just understanding that I can’t make it to an event, you are always there to cheer me on. I can’t begin to tell you what that means to me. I love you!

T. J. KLINE
was raised competing in rodeos and Rodeo Queen competitions since the age of fourteen and has thorough knowledge of the sport as well as the culture involved. She writes contemporary western romance for Avon Romance, including four books in the Rodeo series and the Healing Harts series. She has published a nonfiction health book and two inspirational fiction titles under the name Tina Klinesmith. In her very limited spare time, T. J. can be found laughing hysterically with her husband, children, and their menagerie of pets in Northern California.

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Rodeo Novels

Rodeo Queen

The Cowboy and the Angel

Learning the Ropes

Runaway Cowboy

Healing Harts Novels

Heart’s Desire

Taking Heart

Close to Heart

The fifth novel in
USA Today
bestselling author Julie Brannagh’s Love and Football series! Jillian Miller likes her job working in the front office for the Seattle Sharks, but lately she needs a change, which takes her into foreign territory: the Sharks’ workout facility after hours. The last thing she expects is a hot, grumbly god among men to be there as witness.

As Jillian discovers that the new her is about so much more than she sees in the mirror, can she discover that happiness and love are oh-so-much better than perfect?

O
ne dance with him and Jillian was pulling herself out of his arms and getting back into the car. She could dance with him and not get emotional about it. He was just another guy. She was not going to let herself get stupid over someone who was clearly only interested in her as a friend.

His hold on her was gentle. He smelled good. She saw the flash of his smile when she peeked up at him. She’d felt shy with Carlos because she didn’t know him. She didn’t have that problem with Seth. She wanted to move closer, but she shouldn’t.

She tried to remind herself of the fact that Seth probably had more than a few friends with benefits, even if he was between girlfriends at the time. He was a guy. He probably wasn’t celibate, and they weren’t romantic with each other. There was also the tiny fact that anything that happened between them was not going to end well.

She was in more trouble than she knew how to get out of.

A
t first, Jillian rested her head against his cheek. A minute or so later, she laid her head on his chest. They swayed together, feet barely moving, and he realized his heart was pounding. He’d never experienced anything as romantic as dancing late at night in a deserted city park to a song playing on his car’s sound system. The darkness wrapped them in the softest cocoon. He glanced down at her as he felt her slowly relaxing against him.

It
’s not the pale moon that excites me

That thrills and delights me

Oh, no

It’s just the nearness of you

He took a deep breath of the vanilla scent he’d recognize anywhere as hers. His fingers stroked the small of her back, and he heard her sigh. Slow dancing was even better than he remembered. Then again, he wasn’t in junior high anymore, and he held a woman in his arms, not a teenage girl. There was a lot to be said for delayed gratification. Dancing with Jillian was all about the smallest movements, and letting things build. He laid his cheek against hers.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered.

“Why not?” he whispered back.

“It’s not a good idea.”

“We’re just dancing, Jill.”

And if things got any hotter between them, they’d be naked. She didn’t try to step away from him. If she’d resisted him at all, if she’d shown reluctance or fear or hesitation, he would have let her go, and he would walk away. Her fingers tangled in his hair.

They were just friends. He didn’t think he had those kinds of feelings for this woman: the sexual, amorous, bow-chicka-bow-bow feelings, despite the fact his pulse was racing, his fingers itched to touch her, and he knew he should let go of her. It didn’t matter that he was still having hotter-than-the-invention-of-fire dreams about Jillian most nights, either. He wasn’t going to consider what kind of tricks his subconscious played on him. Instead, he pulled her a fraction of an inch closer. He slid one hand up her back, feeling her long, silky-soft blonde hair cascading over his fingers, and she trembled. He cupped her cheek in his hand. He couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth. Just a couple of inches more and he’d kiss her. He moved slowly, but purposefully.

He watched her eyelids flutter closed. He felt her quick intake of breath. He wondered how she tasted. He’d know in a few seconds.

“I want to kiss you,” he breathed against her mouth.

The silence was broken by the screaming guitars of Guns n’ Roses.

That would teach him to use the “shuffle” function.

Award-winning author Kay Thomas continues her thrilling Elite Ops series. Fighting to clear her brother of murder, freelance reporter Sassy Smith is suddenly kidnapped and thrown into a truck with other women who are about to be sold . . . or worse. When she sees an opportunity for escape Sassy takes it, but she may have just jumped from the frying pan into the fire.

“Y
ou’re thinking too much.” She felt his words vibrate against the inside of her thigh as he kissed her there before easing up beside her on the bed. “Stop that.”

She smiled, not at all surprised that he seemed to read her mind. He sat up on the edge of the lower bunk next to her and took his own boots and socks off, then his shirt, jeans, and . . .

She closed her eyes.

He was going to be naked soon, and she had to say something first. He slid up beside her on the mattress and pulled her back to his front, with his back toward the wall. She felt the insistence of his erection against her bottom.

She started to turn in his arms, but he held onto her with an arm clamped around her waist. “Slow down. I just want to enjoy holding you a while. I’ve thought about this for a very long time.”

Really? That came as a complete surprise. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how long, but when he trailed his fingertips back and forth across her rib cage, she quit thinking. Instead, she sighed in relaxed contentment. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”

Why had she been nervous about this for so long? She could tell him now. It’d be okay.

He kissed the side of her neck and whispered in her ear, “Well, I promise we’re just getting started.”

She tensed, and he absolutely noticed but misunderstood the reason.

He gathered her more snugly against his chest. “Don’t worry, we can take this as slow as you want.”

“You’d do that?” The mixture of relief and disappointment she felt was . . . confusing.

“God, Sassy. What sort of men have you—”

The sound of screeching brakes interrupted whatever else he’d been about to say. Sassy felt the momentum shoving her backward into his chest.

“What’s happening?” she gasped.

“I don’t know.” He tugged his arm from under her body to see his watch. “We’re not scheduled to stop for several more hours.” The stark change from relaxed lover to alert super soldier was dramatic. “Get dressed. Now.”

Bryan hauled himself forward out of bed and started shoving clothes toward her while Sassy was still playing catch-up. Her panties were inside out, but she slid them on at his urging without fixing them.

“C’mon, Sassy.”

The horrific screeching continued, intensifying as she pulled her jeans, sweater, socks, and boots on. She was lacing up as a rumbling shuddering started.

“Fuck,” Bryan mumbled.

“What is it?” She finished with the boots and looked up from her crouched position as the screeching abruptly stopped.

“Hang on!” He grabbed for her.

The rail car shifted, and she felt like she was in a carnival house ride as the compartment swayed wildly from side to side. The car tilted, and the bed she was sitting on flew up in the air. She hit her head on the bunk above, and the world went black.

Some things are sexier the second time around.

Cal Payton has gruff and grumbly down to an art . . . all the better for keeping people away. And it usually works. Until Jenna Macmillan—his biggest mistake—walks into Payton and Sons mechanic shop all grown up, looking like sunshine, and inspiring more than a few dirty thoughts.

O
kay, so admittedly Jenna had known this was a stupid idea. She’d tried to talk herself out of it the whole way, muttering to herself as she sat at a stop light. The elderly man in the car in the lane beside her had been staring at her like she was nuts.

And she was. Totally nuts.

It’d been almost a decade since she’d seen Cal Payton and yet one look at those silvery blue eyes and she was shoved right back to the head-over-heels
in love
eighteen-year-old girl she’d been.

Cal had been hot in high school, but damn, had time been good to him. He’d always been a solid guy, never really hitting that awkward skinny stage some teenage boys went through after a growth spurt.

And now . . . well . . . Cal looked downright sinful standing there in the garage. He’d rolled down the top of his coveralls, revealing a white T-shirt that looked painted on, for God’s sake. She could see the ridges of his abs, the outline of his pecs. A large smudge on the sleeve drew her attention to his bulging biceps and muscular, veined forearms. Did he lift these damn cars all day? Thank God it was hot as Hades outside already so she could get by with flushed cheeks.

And he was staring at her, those eyes which hadn’t changed one bit. Cal never cared much for social mores. He looked people in the eye and he held it long past comfort. Cal had always needed that, to be able to measure up who he was dealing with before he ever uttered a word.

She wondered how she measured up. It’d been a long time since he’d laid eyes on her, and the last time he had, he’d been furious.

Well, she was the one that came here. She was the one that needed something. She might as well speak up, even though what she needed right now was a drink. A stiff one. “Hi, Cal.” She went with a smile that surely looked a little strained.

He stood with his booted feet shoulder-width apart, and at the sound of her voice, he started a bit. He finally stopped doing that staring thing as his gaze shifted to the car by her side, then back to her. “Jenna.”

His voice. Well, crap, how could she have forgotten about his voice? It was low and silky with a spicy edge, like Mexican chocolate. It warmed her belly and raised goose bumps on her skin.

She cleared her throat as he began walking toward her, his gaze teetering between her and the car. Brent was off to the side, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest. He winked at her. She hid her grin with pursed lips and rolled her eyes. He was a good-looking bastard, but irritating as hell. Nice to see
some
things never changed. “Hey, Brent.”

“Hey there, Jenna. Looking good.”

Cal whipped his head toward his brother. “Get back to work.”

Brent gave him a sloppy salute and then shot her another knowing smirk before turning around and retreating back into the garage bay.

When she faced Cal again, she jolted, because he was close now, almost in her personal space. His eyes bored into her. “What’re ya doing here, Jenna?”

His question wasn’t accusatory. It was conversational, but the intent was in his tone, laying latent until she gave him reason to really put the screws to her. She didn’t know if he meant what was she doing here, at his garage, or what he was doing in town. But she went for the easy question first.

She gestured to the car. “I, uh, I think the bearings need to be replaced. I know that I could take it anywhere but . . .” She didn’t want to tell him it was Dylan’s car, and he was the one who let it go so long that she swore the front tires were going to fall off. As much as her brother loved his car, he was an idiot. An idiot who despised Cal, and she was pretty sure the feeling was vice versa. “I wanted to make sure the job was done right and everyone knows you do the best job here.” That part was true. The Paytons had a great reputation in Tory.

But Cal never let anything go. He narrowed his eyes and propped his hands on his hips, drawing attention to the muscles in his arms. “How do you know we still do the best job here if you haven’t been back in ten years?”

Well then. Couldn’t he just nod and take her keys? She held them in her hand, gripping them so tightly that the edge was digging into her palm. She loosened her grip. “Because when I did live here, your father was the best, and I know
you
don’t do anything unless you do it the best.” Her voice faded off. Even though the last time she’d seen Cal, his eyes had been snapping in anger, at least they’d been showing some sort of emotion. This steady blank gaze was killing her. Not when she knew how his eyes looked when he smiled, as the skin at the corners crinkled and the silver of his irises flashed.

She thought now that this had been a mistake. She’d offered to get the car fixed for her brother while he was out of town. And while she knew Cal worked with his dad now, she’d still expected to run into Jack. And even though he was a total jerk face, she would have rather dealt with him than endure this uncomfortable situation with Cal right now. “You know, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it, I’ll just—”

He snatched the keys out of her hand. Right. Out. Of. Her. Hand.

“Hey!” She propped a hand on her hip, but he wasn’t even looking at her, instead fingering the key ring. “Do you always steal keys from your customers?”

He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at her. There was the smallest hint of a smile, just a tug at the corner of his lips. “I don’t make that a habit, no.”

“So I’m special then?” She was flirting. Was this flirting? Oh God, it was. She was flirting with her high school boyfriend, the guy who’d taken her virginity, and the guy whose heart she’d broken when she had to make one of the most difficult decisions of her life.

She’d broken her own heart in the process.

His gaze dropped, just for a second, then snapped back to her face. “Yeah, you’re special.”

He turned around, checking out the car, while she stood gaping at his back. He’d . . . he’d flirted back, right? Cal wasn’t really a flirting kind of guy. He said what he wanted and followed through. But flirting Cal?

She shook her head. It’d been over ten years. Surely he’d lived a lot of life during that time she’d been away, going to college, then grad school, then working in New York. She didn’t want to think about what that flirting might mean, now that she was back in Tory for good. Except he didn’t know that.