OPERATION K-9
BROTHERS
Excerpts
533 Words
“Stupid me. I trusted
you,” said the voice on the other end of the phone.
Jack Daniels, Whiskey
to his SEAL teammates, blinked sleepy eyes at his bedside clock. Three in the
morning sucked for getting angry calls from women. What the hell had he done to
this one?
“Who’s this?” That was
the wrong thing to say. Jack held the phone away from his ear in an effort to
save his hearing. He didn’t recognize the number on the screen. Her voice
wasn’t familiar either.
“Sweetheart,” he said,
interrupting her tirade. “You sure you have the right number?” Even though her
voice and phone number didn’t ring any bells, he couldn’t say for sure he
wasn’t the douchebag—along with some other impressively creative names she was calling
him—in question.
Ah hell, now she was
crying.
“How could you?” she
said, her words slightly slurred. She hung up on him.
After thirty minutes
of trying to go back to sleep, Jack let out a long sigh. How could he what?
That question was going to bug him until he got an answer. Although her voice
hadn’t been at all familiar, he’d liked it, even when she’d been calling him
names. He grinned. Sewer-sucking slimeball and twatwaffle were good, but his
favorite was doggy doo. That one had a nice ring to it.
He got out of bed and
padded to the living room where he’d left his laptop. Dakota sighed in
resignation before hoisting herself up from her dog bed, her nails clicking on
the wood floor as she followed him. She liked her sleep, something he interrupted
too often for her taste because of his nightmares. At least they weren’t
occurring every night anymore. She sat near his leg and peered up at him with
worried eyes.
“Not a nightmare this
time, girl. We got a mystery on our hands. What do you think of that?”
She knew him inside
and out, knew from the tone of his voice that he wasn’t weighed down by his
memories this time. Once she determined he didn’t need her comfort, she made
two circles, got her damaged leg under her, then curled up on the floor at his
feet, apparently liking her sleep more than mysteries. Jack was intrigued,
though, his interest in something flaring for the first time since coming home.
It only took a few
minutes to find a name and address attached to her phone number. Nichole Masters,
currently living in Asheville. Nope, not ringing even one little bell in his
memory bank of female acquaintances or hookups. It was possible he’d forgotten
one but not likely. He had a good memory, especially for women, and she had a
sexy voice he was sure he wouldn’t have forgotten.
Jack stared absently
at the half moon framed by the window. Coming to a decision, he nodded. “All
right, Nikki girl, you have me curious.” As his teammates would tell anyone who
asked, get on Whiskey’s radar and all bets were off.
He showered, and after
staring at himself for a minute in the mirror, he shaved off his beard, seeing
his face for the first time in months. He felt naked.
808 Words
“You stalked me?”
“I don’t know if I’d
exactly call it stalking.” Jack sighed when Nichole raised her brows. “Yeah,
okay, I stalked you, but only long enough to find out where you worked. I’m an
ass.”
“An ass and a toad,”
she said as she slid off the rock, landing next to Dakota. “Is he always a
toadstool?” she asked his dog. Dakota huffed, sounding way too agreeable.
“You’re donkey doo, you know that?”
Jack couldn’t help it.
He laughed. That got him a glare from Nichole. Even Dakota, the traitorous
thing, gave him a dirty look. “You have a talent for name calling. Donkey doo just
replaced doggie doo as my favorite one.”
She pushed up, crossed
her arms over her chest, and scowled. He wondered if he should tell her that
her attempt to glare him into next week wasn’t working, mostly because her arms
were pushing her breasts up. He was a man. Breasts trumped all else, and hers
were ten times better than perfect.
“Eyes up here,
soldier!”
He could tell her that
a SEAL was never referred to as a soldier, but she could call him soldier all
night if she let him anywhere near those sweet girls. As difficult as it was,
he managed to drag his gaze up to her face.
“Sorry,” he said. Or
not. Now that he knew his scars didn’t disgust her, like a broken record, his
male brain was stuck on one word. Sex. Now. Okay, that was two words, so he
wasn’t as boneheaded as he was acting.
Sex now with her.
There. A complete
sentence. He could think again. That was good.
He tried a smile but
didn’t get one back. He sighed. It was time to grovel. “You’re right. I’m
donkey doo, doggie doo, a toad, and all those other things you called me. I
knew it was creepy to stalk you, but—” She narrowed her eyes. “Right, no buts.
I’ll take you home, then I’ll disappear from your life.”
“Probably a good
idea.”
He was glad she
thought so because he sure didn’t. Although it was undoubtedly for the best,
considering the way his chest hurt at the thought of never seeing her again.
Better to put a stop to those kinds of feelings while he still could.
“I’m sorry, Nichole.
Really.” He tugged his shirt back on, then picked up his pack from where he’d
dropped it on the rock.
“So that’s it? You’re
not going to try to change my mind?”
Was that what she
wanted him to do? Women were confusing. He glanced at the dogs. Rambo had woken
from his nap and was sitting quietly—a minor miracle that—next to Dakota, both
of them staring at him, as if waiting to see if he’d manage to screw this up.
He tried to think of the right words, but his mind was a complete blank.
To hell with it.
Didn’t actions speak louder than words? He strode to Nichole, cupped her
cheeks, lifted her face, and lowered his mouth to hers. When she didn’t slap
him, he took that as a positive sign. On a soft sigh, she melted against him.
He raised his head.
“This is me doing my best to change your mind. Is it working?”
“Yes, you creepy
stalker, it is. Now shut up and kiss me again.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He was
trained to follow orders, and this was one he was definitely on board with. Her
breath quickened, matching his own as their tongues tangled. Drunk on
endorphins, his worries about his arm, his future, about anything melted away.
He’d found his oasis, and he never wanted to stop kissing her.
Wild need raged
through him, and he wanted to devour her right here. Right now. He wasn’t sure
he would ever get enough of her, of her taste, of the feel of her body pressed
to his. He wanted to consume her and be consumed by her.
“You taste like cherries,”
he murmured against her mouth.
“Lip gloss.”
How could he resist a
woman who smelled like vanilla and tasted like cherries? He broke away from her
mouth and peppered kisses across her cheek until he reached her neck. He
pressed his tongue over her pulse point, feeling the rapid beat of her heart.
She purred, sounding like a kitten. He smiled against her skin, gave serious
consideration to taking her down to the ground with him.
This wasn’t the
place—and maybe even not yet the time—for giving free rein to what he wanted,
what he was practically dying for. He reluctantly pulled away, then rested his
forehead against hers. She scared him. The timing was all wrong for the
connection and chemistry they had between them.
Yet he knew he
wouldn’t walk away from her, even though he should.
649 Words
When Nichole found Ghost, she held it up. “Ready?” At Jack’s
nod, she slid the disk into the slot. “This is a great movie, so pay
attention.”
“My eyes are glued to
the screen.”
“Ouch. That must
hurt.” She laughed when he rolled his eyes.
When she sat on the
sofa, he pointedly looked at the foot of space between them, then lifted his
gaze to hers and raised his eyebrows. Without a word, he had her moving to him
until their bodies were aligned from arms down to legs. It was where she wanted
to be.
“Better,” he said,
then put his arm around her and pulled her closer, until her shoulder rested
against his chest. “Even better. What’s this movie about?”
“Demi Moore is in love
with Patrick Swayze, and he’s murdered. He comes back as a ghost. That’s all
I’m going to say.”
“Really, Nichole,
we’re going to watch a ghost movie?”
“Yes, Jack, really.
Now shut up and watch.”
He glanced at her and
smirked. “You’re bossy, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Are you this bossy in
bed? Because if you are, you should know I’m good with that.” He waggled his
eyebrows.
“Maybe you’ll find out
someday. Or maybe not.” He totally would.
He leaned over,
putting his mouth next to her ear. “Oh, I will, I promise you.”
A delicious shiver
raced through her, and he chuckled, letting her know he’d felt it. The opening
credits finished, and as the movie began, she blinked. She’d watched this movie
many times, and knowing what was coming, tears stung her eyes.
It didn’t take long to
learn that Jack liked to make commentary. “Dude, open your eyes. You just
walked by a bad guy hiding in the doorway.” Then, “So that’s the answer to life
after death. You turn into a lightning bug,” he said when the twinkling white
lights swooped toward Patrick Swayze.
And so it went. She
tried not to encourage him by laughing, but whenever a laugh or chuckle at one
of his asides did escape, his expression was entirely too smug. He was funny,
and for her, there was nothing more appealing than a man with a sense of humor.
Good looking, a really nice man, a drool-worthy body, and funny meant she was
in so much trouble!
But whatever.
There was no way she
could resist Jack Daniels. Her salvation was that he’d be leaving in a month or
two, and that would be that. All she had to do was program her mind to not fall
for the sweetest, hottest man she’d ever met.
“I’d totally do her,”
he said when a close-up of fat tears from luminous green eyes meandered down
Demi Moore’s cheeks.
Nichole snorted. “I
don’t know one straight man who wouldn’t. Heck, I’d almost do her.”
He groaned. “Don’t be
putting pictures like that in my mind.”
“Am I torturing you?”
She peered up at him. His blue eyes, darker than they had been minutes earlier,
answered her question. She hid her smug smile. She’d surprised him with her
comment, and she had a feeling he wasn’t a man who surprised easily.
“Yes, but in the best
kind of way.”
Before she could think
of a response, the scene she especially wanted him to see came on. “Hush. This
is where you need to be quiet and pay attention.”
“I’m yours to
command.”
That was all he said
as he stared at the TV screen. If he had any idea of all the ways she’d like to
command him, he’d instantly forget they were watching a movie. Nichole had
wanted to recreate the pottery scene since the first time she’d seen it. She
just hadn’t had the right man before to do it with, and now she had. When the
scene ended, she held her breath, waiting to hear what he would say.
425 Words
The man hadn’t lied,
he could dance. Nichole considered herself a good dancer, but Jack could
flat-out move. She grinned as he spun her under his arm. They’d been on the
dance floor for three songs, and she was going to need oxygen soon. He wasn’t
even breathing hard.
The song ended, and
before she could tell him she needed to sit this one out, the band segued into
a slow song. He pulled her to him, and since there was nowhere else she wanted
to be, she slid her hands around his neck. His arms wrapped around her back so
that they were pressed together from chests to hips.
“Where’d you learn to
dance like that?” she said.
“My mom owned a dance
studio. She’d recruit me to partner up when there was a shortage of boys in a
class. She made me learn it all. Foxtrot, the waltz, the tango, you name it.”
“I’m impressed. What’s
your favorite dance?”
“The tango.” His eyes
heated as he peered down at her. “It’s making love on a dance floor with your
clothes on.”
Oh yeah, sign her up.
“That’s a great way to describe it. It is a sensual dance.”
“I’ll teach you, and
then we can come back and show off.”
She might not survive
dancing a tango with him. “I’m afraid my clothes would fall off without any
help from me if we did that. They’re already wanting to, and we’re not even
tangoing.”
“Yeah?” He slid his
hands to her hips, pressed his fingers into her skin, and put his mouth to her
ear. “In that case, we’ll dance it in private.” His hands left her hips, and he
pressed a warm palm against her spine. “Did I tell you how much I love this
dress, Nichole?” He slowly glided his fingers up her back, then back down
again, sending shivers spiraling in all directions. “You like me to touch you,
don’t you?”
Was he kidding? She
felt like she was going to end up in a gooey puddle at his feet when he said her
name in that raspy way. Never mind that his touching her was making her body
sing. Several more of his touches on her bare skin, and she was going to find
herself begging.
He chuckled when she
didn’t answer. “If I wasn’t determined to romance you, I’d throw you over my
shoulder right now and haul your sexy ass back to my cave.”
She almost whimpered.
“You have a cave?”
“No, but I’d find
one.”
323 Words
Jack placed a salad
and a plate of Mexican lasagna in front of her. Nichole had never dated a man
who’d cooked for her, never been with a man who’d made her feel special. Bit by
bit, he was chipping away at her heart. How would he react if he knew that?
He’d been up-front
that he would be leaving, and she guessed that it was best if she hid these growing
feelings she had for him. If he knew that she was falling for him, he would
disappear.
The food was delicious
but the serving huge. She pushed her plate away after making her way through
half the meal. “I can’t eat another bite. That was delicious. What else can you
cook?”
“Why? You looking for
a personal chef?”
“Wouldn’t that be
awesome? My dream man is both a chef and hairdresser, and since this is my
fantasy, he’s amazing in bed.”
His grin was
positively wicked. “Got two of those covered, but tomorrow I’ll enroll in hair
styling school.”
She tapped her fingers
over her chest. “Be still my heart.”
He traced her bottom
lip with his finger. “Stilling your heart is not the objective tonight, Nichole.”
369 Words
Jack fell back on the
bed with Nichole sprawled on top of him. He had never been much on kissing. It
was too intimate, too much like saying there were feelings involved. But then,
he’d never had Nichole to kiss. He slid his hands under her T-shirt.
“Off,” he said, the
word coming out as a command.
She pushed up, gave
him a sexy smile, and then pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it
carelessly aside. Holding his gaze with hers, she reached behind her and
unhooked her bra, letting the straps slide down her arms. She raised her brows as
she crossed her arms, holding the bra against her breasts.
Little tease. “Drop
it,” he ordered.
“I’ll think about it.”
She was playful in the
bedroom, and he liked that. “While you’re thinking, I’ll just do this.” He put
an arm around her back and flipped them, snatching the bra off as they rolled.
“Where did it go?” she
said, peering down at herself.
“Away.”
“Sneaky,” she said,
grinning at him. “They teach you sneak techniques in SEAL school?”
“Baby, I learned how
to steal bras as a young whippersnapper.” That got him a laugh. “What? You
don’t believe me?”
“Oh, I do. I’m just
visualizing you as a”—she made air quotes—“young whippersnapper going around
and stealing bras off clotheslines.”
“That’s not what I
meant, and you know it.” Damn, he really liked this girl.
“What else did you
learn while whippersnapping?”
“The answer to that is
best shown.”
“Then show me what you
got, sailor.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He
skimmed his fingers up her stomach to her breasts. “So beautiful.”
The navy had taught
him discipline and control, and it was going to take every ounce of those
teachings to not embarrass himself because every sexy inch of her had him
teetering on the edge. No woman had ever gotten to him the way this one did,
and that had him thinking of possibilities.
Who was this man
thinking of a forever, a word so
foreign to him that he should be breaking out in a cold sweat? Instead, as
crazy as it sounded in his head, he was all in.
Was she?
Do the characters all come to you at the same time or do
some of them come to you as you write?
They pop in and introduce themselves as I write. Some of my
favorite secondary characters were surprises and ended up as a main character
in future books.
Do you see writing as a career?
It is my career. I’m truly blessed that I’ve done well
with it.
What do you think about the current publishing market?
That it changes daily and can give you whiplash.
Do you read yourself and if so what is your favorite
genre?
I read three to four books a week. Along with loving to read,
I consider it a part of my job to keep up with what books and authors are
popular with readers.
Do you prefer to write in silence or with noise? Why?
Noise! Silence makes me antsy. I can and do shut out
background noise, but I can’t seem to shut out silence. Weird, I know.
Do you write one book at a time or do you have several
going at a time?
I tried writing two books at a time once, and I kept getting
names and scenes mixed up, so one at a time for me.
What’s the most difficult thing about writing characters
from the opposite sex?
This might sound weird, but my heroes are always easier to
write than my heroines. I’ve thought about that and I think it’s because I
write the kind of men I could fall in love with and they like me falling in
love with them, so they talk to me. My heroines can be pretty closed mouthed
when they want (which happens a lot), so I struggle sometimes to get into their
heads.
How long on average does it take you to write a book?
Too long!
Do you believe in writer’s block?
I think so. It’s never happened to me (so far), thankfully.
Comments
Post a Comment