Things Good Girls Don't Do (31 page)

“You can’t seriously expect me to . . . you’re wet and cold, too. Wear your own damn coat.” She wrapped her arms around her waist again, as though she could stop her trembling.

The fear in her expression tugged at his conscience and sent him searching for the words to reassure her that he wasn’t going to jump her as soon as she undressed. The suspicious glare she fixed him with succeeded in hardening his resolve, and he lowered the coat, raised an eyebrow, and swept his gaze over her. “Either you can get out of those clothes yourself, or I can help you.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“You’ll find there’s not too much I wouldn’t do.”

Darcy glowered at him a few more seconds, clearly wishing she had a tree branch in her hand. Then she sighed and dropped her gaze, blinking several times in quick succession, obviously determined that he wouldn’t see her break down. So, the woman wasn’t as tough as she wanted him to believe. Her vulnerability unleashed a wave of protectiveness that washed over him and left him feeling like an ass.

He frowned. “I’m not the enemy.” He held the coat higher so it blocked his view of everything but her head and shoulders. “Hurry, we have to get moving.” Trembling visibly, her lips still maintained a bluish tint. She wasn’t out of danger yet.

An Excerpt from

A
D
IAMONDS AND
D
UGO
UTS
N
OVEL

by Jennifer Seasons

The sexy baseball players of Jennifer Seasons’
Diamonds and Dugouts
series are back with the story of a single mom, a hot rookie, and a second chance at love.

JP
reached out an arm to snag her, but she slipped just out of reach—for the moment. Did she really think she could get away from him?

There was a reason he played shortstop in the major leagues. He was damn fast. And now that he’d decided to make Sonny his woman, she was about to find out just how quick he could be. All night he’d tossed and turned for her, his curiosity rampant. When he’d finally rolled out of bed, he’d had one clear goal: to see Sonny. Nothing had existed outside that.

Her leaving her cell phone at the restaurant last night had been the perfect excuse. All he’d had to do was run an internet search for her business to get her address. And now here he was, unexpectedly up close and personal with her. So close he could smell the scent of her shampoo, and it was doing funny things to him. Things like making him want to bury his nose in her hair and inhale.

No way was he going to miss this golden opportunity.

With a devil’s grin, he moved and had her back against the aging barn wall before she’d finished gasping. “Look me in the eyes right now and tell me I don’t affect you, that you’re not interested.” He traced a lazy path down the side of her neck with his fingertips and felt her shiver. “Because I don’t believe that line for an instant, sunshine.”

Close enough to feel the heat she was throwing from her deliciously curved body, JP laughed softly when she tried to sidestep and squeeze free. Her shyness was so damn cute. He raised an arm and blocked her in, his palm flush against the rough, splintering wood. Leaning in close, he grinned when she blushed and her gaze flickered to his lips. Her mouth opened on a soft rush of breath, and, for a suspended moment, something sparked and held between them.

But then Sonny shook back her rose-gold curls and tipped her chin with defiance. “Believe what you want, JP. I don’t have to prove anything to you.” Her denim blue eyes flashed with emotion. “This might come as a surprise, but I’m not interested in playing with a celebrity like you. I have a business to run and a son to raise. I don’t need the headache.”

There was an underlying nervousness to her tone that didn’t quite jive with the tough-as-nails attitude she was trying to project. Either she was scared or he affected her more than she wanted to admit. She didn’t look scared.

JP dropped his gaze to her mouth, wanting to kiss those juicy lips, and felt her body brush against his. He could feel her pulse, fast and frantic, under his fingertips.

It made his pulse kick up a notch in anticipation. “There’s a surefire way to end this little disagreement right now, because I say you’re lying. I say you
are
interested in a celebrity like me.” He cupped her chin with his hand and watched her thick lashes flutter as she broke eye contact. But she didn’t pull away. “In fact, I say you’re interested in
me
.”

JP knew he had her.

Her voice came, soft and a little shaky. “How do I prove I’m not?” The way she was staring at his mouth contradicted her words. So did the way her body was leaning into his.

Lowering his head until he was a whisper away, he issued the challenge, “Kiss me.”

Her gaze flew to his, her eyes wide with shock. “You want me to do
what
?”

What he knew they both wanted.

“Kiss me. Prove to me you’re not interested, and I’ll leave here. You can go back to your business and your son and never see my celebrity ass again.”

An Excerpt from

by Katharine Ashe

In this delightful novella from award-winning author Katharine Ashe, a young matchmaker may win the laird of her dreams if she can manage to find husbands for seven Scottish ladies—in just one month!

I
t would have been remarkable if Teresa had not been quivering in her prettiest slippers. Six pairs of eyes stared at her as though she wore horns atop her hat. She was astounded that she had not yet turned and run. Desperation and determination were all well and good when one was sitting in Mrs. Biddycock’s parlor, traveling in one’s best friend’s commodious carriage, and living in one’s best friend’s comfortable town house. But standing in a strange flat in an alien part of town, anticipating meeting the man one had been dreaming about for eighteen months while being studied intensely by his female relatives, did give one pause.

Her cheeks felt like flame, which was dispiriting; when she blushed, her hair looked glaringly orange in contrast. And this was not the romantic setting in which she had long imagined they would again encounter each other—another ballroom glittering with candlelight, or a rose-trellised garden path in the moonlight, or even a field of waving heather aglow with sunshine. Instead she now stood in a dingy little flat three stories above what looked suspiciously like a gin house.

But desperate times called for desperate measures. She gripped the rim of her bonnet before her and tried to still her nerves.

The sister who had gone to fetch him reappeared in the doorway and smiled. “Here he is, then, miss.”

A heavy tread sounded on the squeaking floorboards. Teresa’s breath fled.

Then he was standing not two yards away, filling the doorway, and . . .

she . . .

was . . .

speechless.

Even if words had occurred to her, she could not have uttered a sound. Both her tongue and wits had gone on holiday to the colonies.

No wonder she had dreamed
.

From his square jaw to the massive breadth of his shoulders to his dark hair tied in a queue, he was everything she had ever imagined a man should be. Aside from the neat whiskers skirting his mouth that looked positively barbaric and thrillingly virile, he was exactly as she remembered him. Indeed, seeing him now, she realized she had not forgotten a single detail of him from that night in the ballroom. She recognized him with the very fibers of her body, as though she already knew how it felt for him to take her hand. Just as on that night eighteen months before, an invisible wind pressed at her back, urging her to move toward him like a magnet drawn to a metal object.
As though they were meant to be touching
.

Despite the momentous tumult within her now, however, Teresa was able to see quite clearly in his intensely blue eyes a stark lack of any recognition whatsoever.

“W
eel?” The single word was a booming accusation. “Who be ye, lass, and what do ye be wanting from me?”

It occurred to Teresa that either she could be thoroughly devastated by this unanticipated scenario and subsequently flee in utter shame, or she could continue as planned.

She gripped her bonnet tighter.

“How do you do, my lord? I am Teresa Finch-Freeworth of Brennon Manor at Harrows Court Crossing in Cheshire.” She curtseyed upon wobbly legs.

His brow creased. “And?”

“And . . .” It was proving difficult to breathe. “I have come here to offer you my hand in marriage.”

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Excerpt from “The Trouble With Sexy” copyright © 2013 by Codi Gary. Originally appeared in
Kiss Me: An Avon Books Valentine’s Day Antholog
y, published in 2013 by Avon Impulse, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

Excerpt from
Less Than a Gentleman
copyright © 2013 by Kerrelyn Sparks.

Excerpt from
When I Find You
copyright © 2013 by Dixie Brown.

Excerpt from
Playing the Field
copyright © 2013 by Candice Wakoff.

Excerpt from
How to Marry a Highlander
copyright © 2013 by Katharine Brophy Dubois.

THINGS GOOD GIRLS DON’T DO
. Copyright © 2013 by Codi Gary. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition SEPTEMBER 2013 ISBN: 9780062292919

Print Edition ISBN: 9780062292926

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