Brief Encounters. Suzanne Forster
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“Whatever you want to do with me, do it.”
At Swan’s words, Rob’s mouth pressed to hers. Then she felt a sharp sensation and cried out in surprise. He had nipped her lip, the inner edge where it was plump and tender.
“You taste good,” he whispered. “Like sex and deep, shuddering sighs. I want to drink you to the last drop.”
He tasted like sex, too. Powerful male-on-the-hunt sex. It was intoxicating.
His lips found the side of her neck. Instinctively he seemed to know the sweet spot at the base of her throat. Hot kisses there made her arch her back as she rocked against his pelvis. The hard flesh encased in his jeans caused her to moan in anticipation.
“We can still stop,” he told her. “It’s not too late.”
Stop? Swan had never heard anything more ridiculous in her life.
Dear Reader,
Every once in a while, if we’re lucky, we get a chance to revisit something that has brought us great joy and satisfaction. This is one of those times for me. When the opportunity to write for Blaze came my way, I felt very lucky, and not just because it’s an exciting, innovative and no-holds-barred line. It was my chance to revisit series romance.
I started my career at Harlequin-Silhouette, and what a great way to start. The books were fun, sexy, challenging and intensely satisfying to write. I hope they were as satisfying to read. But things have changed a little since then. Blaze has broken new ground, not to mention a few rules, and they continue to shake things up, which makes them irresistible to writers—and readers—who love to live on the edge.
When the idea for Brief Encounters came to me, I knew it was a series romance, and I suspected it was a Blaze book. So I was delighted when my editor agreed and invited me to write not one, but three, Blaze books. The prospect of writing about a heroine who designed men’s underwear seemed to have limitless possibilities for racy fun and games. Swan McKenna doesn’t just fantasize about whether men are wearing briefs or boxers, she gets to go there!
I hope you enjoy Swan’s “encounters” with FBI agent Rob Gaines, whose turn as an underwear model was about as much steamy fun as I’ve ever had writing about a hero. I also hope you’ll look for Beyond Suspicion, a two-in-one collection that features the reissue of my top-selling series romance, The Man at Ivy Bridge, available in January 2004.
It’s good to be back!
Suzanne Forster
Brief Encounters
Suzanne Forster
Long overdue thanks to my intrepid plot group: Olga Bicos, Lori Herter, Lou Kaku, Jill Marie Landis and Meryl Sawyer. For the group therapy as much as for the brainstorming. Your support makes work—and life—a pleasure!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
1
SWAN MCKENNA had been inspecting half-naked men for the better part of the afternoon. And she still hadn’t found Mr. Right. Watching men strip down to their underwear was a job most women would have loved. And Swan should have loved it more than most. It was her underwear they were stripping down to. Well, not her underwear. She was wearing that. This was underwear she’d designed.
Now she needed a guy who could sell it.
“I need a man who can bump and grind!” she implored.
Swan was speaking on her cell phone to her assistant, Gerard Nichols, who was acting as host for the auditioning models. Swan’s partner, Lynne Carmichael, who normally dealt with this sort of thing, was on the road doing advance work for their upcoming boutique tour. Her departure had left Swan and Gerard scrambling to get ready for the launch party tomorrow night. This was their first real show and L.A.’s fashion press had been invited for an exclusive sneak peek at the “cheeky” new line of male undergarments.
If Swan wasn’t a bundle of naked nerve endings, she should have been. She and Lynne had worked for years to get to this place, against staggering odds. The fashion world regularly feasted on its own young and Swan felt a little like a chicken wing right now. One scathing review could crush them.
A couple of guys who can striptease without getting all tangled up in their army camouflage thongs. Is that too much to ask?
“It’s a Village People revival out here,” Gerard replied in theatrical whispers. “We’ve got a Native American chieftain, complete with headdress, a fireman with an ax, a pistol-packin’ cowboy. And, oh, my, call 9-1-1! The telephone repairman who just walked in is to die for, Swan. To die for.”
Gerard was stationed in the foyer and Swan was in the spacious music room of the Italianate villa that had recently become the operating headquarters for Brief Encounters, Swan and Lynne’s design company.
“Oh, oh, oh, and there’s a Marquis de Sade.” Gerard let out a little squeak. “He has a whip, Swan! An honest-to-goodness whip! Shall I send him in?”
Swan’s only response was a tiny jet of air through her nostrils. Laughter took too much energy. Gerard was in his element right now, she supposed. From the moment she’d first met him, Swan had known that Gerard was gay. She knew because he’d told her. Hello, my name is Gerard Nichols, and I’m gay. At the time Swan had wondered if that was how he introduced himself to everyone. She discovered later that, generally, it was.
When he’d walked into her tiny Manhattan Beach, California, office that day, he’d also informed her that he was answering her Assistant Wanted ad and she need look no further. Sure, he’d grown up wanting to be an underwear model like Mark Whalberg, but, at thirty-something, he was a little too fond of strawberry-cheesecake ice cream. Design was his second choice, but he couldn’t draw. So he was content to be indispensable.
And he was. Swan would have been lost without him.
“Let’s try the telephone repairman,” she said. “He sounds safer. That fire-swallowing Adonis you just sent in here dropped his baton and nearly set the place ablaze. No more of that, okay? And no more live animals, especially snakes.”
Swan didn’t like snakes and this one had actually fallen from its handler’s bare shoulders and slithered under the sofa Swan was sitting on. She still had goose bumps over that. It was a wonder it hadn’t sent her running to the bathroom to relieve herself. For as long as she could remember, she’d suffered with a high-strung bladder. Some people got hives when they were nervous. Swan McKenna had to pee.
“But, Swaaaan—”
“No way, Gerard. Nothing creepy crawly, nothing with more than two legs, nothing flammable and nothing that is going to explode. This is a fashion show, not a demolition derby. Besides, I’m late with the insurance premium this quarter. I’m not even sure we’re covered.”
She heard him sigh into the phone. Gerard enjoyed bells and whistles and had been arguing that the party’s fashion show needed more special effects. Since Swan and Lynne couldn’t afford pyrotechnics and laser lights, Gerard