Hot Target. Lisa Renee Jones

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closed the distance between them, “we have two options for dealing with our situation.”

      She swallowed and then tilted her chin up defiantly. “Okay, I’ll bite. What two options are those?”

      He took another step. She didn’t move. She stood her ground with that tough facade, but he knew she was wavering by the flash of nervousness in her eyes.

      “We could fight all day and all night,” he said. He stopped in front of her, close. So close all he had to do was lift his arms to touch her. Damn, he loved her scent, a soft floral something. He wasn’t much of a flower guy, but he thought maybe honeysuckle. Sweet. A contradiction from her tough exterior, a detail that ripened his assessment of her to downright delicious.

      “Or?” she prodded, refusing to back away. Damn, she had spunk. That made him hot.

      “Or we can get right to the root of the problem and be done with it.” He shifted closer to her, his lips lingering above hers. “Now would be a good time for that knee if you don’t want to be kissed.” He reached for her, pulling her close, molding her sexy, taut body to his. He didn’t give her time to object. His mouth closed down on hers.

      He kissed her, prodding her into a response. She started to resist, her palms pressed against his chest, her spine stiff. But when his tongue dipped into her mouth and brushed hers, she whimpered. Her lips softened, her body warmed. She melted and gave him what he really wanted. Her surrender.

      3

      KATIE COULD NOT stop kissing Luke Winter. The man deserved that well-placed knee for daring to kiss her, on top of being a complete, utter ass. And she’d give him that knee. Soon. Very soon. Right after she finished kissing him. And, oh, God, was she kissing him. The kind of kissing that screamed Strip me naked and have your way with me. Worse, no matter how hard she willed herself to pull away from such abandon, Katie couldn’t do it. She was drowning in sexy male seduction and couldn’t find the desire to escape. Which led her to one conclusion—Luke Winter had a magic tongue. It was the only explanation for the drugging effect of his kiss, the only explanation for the dull, wonderful ache that spread through her limbs and coiled in her stomach. When was the last time a man had accomplished such a feat? A year? Almost two?

      So when he said, “Tell me this feels as good to you as it does to me,” with his lips lingering above hers, a whisper from another caress, Katie tried to say no, but she was afraid he would stop kissing her.

      Instead, she whispered, “Yes.” And it was breathless. Hungry.

      Bingo. He kissed her again.

      She knew she should be pushing him away, but…he tasted and felt so darn good. She was human after all, and he was…well, he was a damn good kisser.

      And try as she might to ignore the reaction her body was having to him, she couldn’t. She wanted him. Bad.

      But this was just a kiss. No harm, no foul. At least, in her desire-stricken state, that was the logic she decided to cling to. Later she would chastise herself. Not now.

      Besides, it had been an eternity, or so it seemed, since she had been thoroughly kissed. His tongue played along the sides of hers, and Katie moaned without any possible hope of restraining the sound.

      There was something so warm, so alluringly perfect about his kisses. Perhaps the way he used his lips to caress hers, or maybe it was the way his tongue did this slow, seductive dance along hers.

      Or was there more?

      Some kind of unique chemistry between them perhaps?

      Slowly, he pulled away from her, coming back for a brief nibble, before staring down at her with a probing, heated gaze.

      Without thought, a sigh of pure female satisfaction slipped from her mouth.

      He smiled in return—clearly proud of making her act in such a way—but Katie didn’t find the smile offensive, surprisingly. She knew he had enjoyed kissing her, as well.

      His hand slid beneath her hair, his callused fingers caressing her neck with delicious friction. “Katie—”

      Someone cleared their throat at the doorway, a distinctly feminine sound, drawing their attention. Shocked at someone else’s presence, Katie instantly moved to take a step backward. Luke quickly settled his hands around her waist, holding her there against him. Katie cast him a disbelieving look and had opened her mouth to complain when he whispered, “Remember your cover. We’re dating.”

      “I think we’re about to have our first fight,” she ground out, giving him her best evil glare, intended for perps under arrest but quite effective with low-life athletes who couldn’t keep it in their pants. Her attention shifted to the visitor, a woman—no, girl—not more than nineteen. Distress etched her youthful features, a frown on her heart-shaped face. Her faded, ripped jeans and pretty yellow lace blouse were as youthful as the highlights streaking her long, dark hair. A sick feeling gathered in Katie’s stomach. Apparently, Luke Winter liked them young, and he didn’t care if he had more than one woman in his house at once. She visualized the pleasure she’d get from a well-placed knee, something she should have already given him. Pig!

      “Hi, Jessica,” Luke said. “Katie, this—”

      Jessica rambled over the top of him. “I should have known better than to let myself—” Her hands twisted together, her voice trailing off.

      “Let yourself what?” Luke said, actually having the gall to sound both concerned and confused.

      Katie would have told him where to stick that stupid act of his, too, but the girl spoke up first. “My mother wanted me to let you know the guest room is ready.” Her hate-filled gaze shifted to Katie. “She said you’d need it.”

      Katie blinked and turned to Luke. “Who’s her mother?” What the heck did the man have going on here?

      “I am,” came a voice etched with accent. A gentle-looking older woman stepped up beside Jessica, her thick, dark hair streaked with gray and pinned in a bun. “I’m Maria Rodriguez, Luke’s housekeeper.” She paused and smiled at Luke. “But he’s more like a son to me.” Her friendly attention, so unlike her daughter’s, shifted to Katie. “You must be the someone special Ron told me Luke had arriving this evening. We let ourselves in. To make sure you had everything you needed.”

      “Someone special?” Katie repeated. She swallowed, biting back anger—and not at Luke this time. She and Ron were going to have words. He had clearly planned the dating thing from the start and thrown her to the wolves—no plan, no story in the mix. And now she and Luke were flying by the seat of their pants. Lacing her arm with Luke’s, she forced a smile in his direction. “Is that what I’m being called these days? Should I tell you what my special name for you is?”

      Luke slid his hand over hers. “Why don’t we save that for when we’re alone, sweetheart.” He pulled her a bit closer, their hips aligned, and the message clear—he was more than happy to play boyfriend. No doubt because he thought he was going to be getting more of that kiss-kiss action.

      They’d be clearing up that misconception sooner rather than later. It was time to recover from this unexpected meeting and get her ducks in a row. This was business, not pleasure, which she should never have forgotten.

      Speaking to Maria, Luke added, “The ‘someone

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