Amazon | The Wild Rose Press (Paperback) | The Wild Rose Press (Digital)

Amazon | Blushing Books

“You want to pop up and get our usual’s, sugar?”

Paige jerked, banging her head under the counter. “Tiddle twat!” she muttered, rubbing her crown as she pushed slowly to her feet. The amusement in that familiar voice curled her toes, and her body reacted with the same warm flush she experienced every time she heard it. Before turning around, she tried to guess which Carlson brother this time had her fired up on all cylinders with just a few words. Her libido never failed to jump start when either man spoke to her, or assessed her with those dark brown eyes, or brushed his fingers against hers when she handed over a drink. The fact she experienced the same quick reaction to both men always left her flustered, and just a touch annoyed.

Pivoting, she aimed a smile at Troy and Trevor seated at the bar, her heart tripping at the sight of the two hottest city employees it’d been her pleasure to serve. Man candy. Hunk on a stick. Drool worthy. Panty melting. Hunk a hunk a burning…lust. Every one of those euphemisms described the brothers who were so far out of her league they may as well be on the moon. Unlike a few other regular patrons, neither man had ever made a pass at her, never even hinted one might be interested in rolling around on her bed for a few nights of hot, sweaty sex, but that hadn’t kept the fantasies from giving her more than one sleepless night.

“Tiddle twat? I must have really startled you.” Trevor, the one with the sexy face scruff and a twinkle in his eyes cocked his head and winked.

“You did. I didn’t hear you come up.” Glancing at Troy, she nodded, stretching her smile. “Detective. You two haven’t been by in a while.” Setting two glasses on the bar, she reached underneath and grabbed the whiskey. She knew her customers.

“Too many bad guys to track down. How have you been, Paige?” Troy asked, his low, deep voice sending a delightful shiver down her spine. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he wanted an honest answer and would care about her reply instead of delivering polite platitudes. Both men possessed that way about them, talking to you as if you mattered, as if they really wanted to hear what you had to say. Maybe that accounted for her continued, uncharacteristic responses to the brothers whenever they came in.

“I’m good, thanks.” Adding sour mix to the whiskey, she dropped in a slender straw and slid the drinks over. “At least we’re not being plagued with a serial killer, or some other such cretin. And spring break is still weeks away, so you don’t have those headaches to deal with yet.” A shadow crossed both men’s faces, Troy’s jaw clenching when she joked about a serial killer. “Have I missed something in the news?”

Kindle | Nook | iBooks | Kobo

Jenny leaned over the kitchen island to get a look at the trout. “Well now, that looks delicious. I don’t suppose you have any wine to go with it?”

“All civilized men have wine to go with fish. What sort of wine would you like, lass?”

She stopped chopping and gave him a pointed look. “Jenny,” she said, and smiled sweetly. “My name is Jenny. I know you know that, but I am reminding you in case it slipped your mind now that we’re hanging out.”

“Now that we’re…? We’re no’ hanging out,” Edan said instantly, quite sure he’d never uttered those words in his life, and quite sure this was not that.

“Yes we are,” she said with great assurance. “A man doesn’t offer to take a woman to town and then invite her in for dinner if they aren’t hanging out.”

He gaped at her. “How have you managed to finagle your way into a ride and invite yourself in for dinner and somehow convince yourself it was the other way around?”

“Well, whatever you want to call it, we keep ending up together--”

“We donna end up together. You keep appearing,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the terrace.

“Yes, and you keep calling me lass. Not that I’m opposed to that,” she said. “I actually like the way it sounds. Lass. I get a shivery feeling when you say it. It’s kind of a turn-on.”

Edan raised his brows. What the hell was she talking about now?

“Hey,” she said, gesturing with her knife, “don’t you think it’s interesting, all the little things that are a turn-on to people? Like your accent, or the way you call me lass. Hands are a turn-on, too,” she said, and held up her hand.

Edan looked at his.

“See?” she said, wiggling her fingers at him. “Hands.”

“Who are you?”

“I told you. Jenny. Don’t forget it.” She winked.

“I think there is verra little chance I shall ever forget it,” he said in all sincerity.

Jenny laughed, and her eyes had a mischievous little shine to them. He put the trout down. “All right, then. What sort of wine would you like, Jenny?” he asked, articulating her name.

Her lips curved into a pert grin. “White, please, Edan. Is it all right if I call you Edan? I know I have and I didn’t ask you before, but you said most people call you Mr. Mackenzie, which, let’s be honest, does not feel right, especially since, you know, we have this thing going.” She gestured between them with a knife. “We’re like, two peas in a pod.”

“We’re no’,” he countered.

“But we are! We’re both sort of drifting.”

Purchase Links

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks