Hard To Handle. Jamie Denton
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“I do not want to stay married to you. Got it?”
Nolan swore mildly under his breath. “Don’t think I won’t throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of this courthouse if I have to, Mikki,” he warned, his voice too intoxicating for a Nolan junkie like her to withstand.
“Try it,” she dared him.
Unaffected by her empty threat, Nolan chuckled, then hauled her into the stairwell and pushed her up against the stone-cold wall after the metal door closed. His mouth clamped firmly over hers in a hot, openmouthed kiss that had her body humming.
She responded with equal hunger, ramming her fingers into his hair to make certain he knew without a doubt she’d settle for nothing less than complete satisfaction.
His knee nudged hers, and she shifted her stance to straddle his thigh. The snug fit of her skirt prevented her from feeling the pressure of his leg against her throbbing and swollen center. She moaned in frustration and hiked her skirt up past her hips.
Mikki’s senses spun. Her body heated as if he’d set it on fire.
Thank heavens some things never changed.
Dear Reader,
As women we share a special kind of bond with other women, whether they are lifelong friends, special co-workers, family members, or sometimes even total strangers for a brief moment in time. But nothing is quite as special as that close bond between sisters, even sisters of the heart, such as the one Mikki Correlli shares with Lauren Massey (On the Loose, February 2005, by Shannon Hollis) and Rory Constable (Slow Ride, March 2005, by Carrie Alexander) in the LOCK & KEY trilogy.
Mikki knows she can count on her “sisters” to always be there for her, whether it’s to tell her the truth when she needs to hear it or to offer their unwavering support when she really needs it. And boy, does she ever need them when her “ex-husband,” Nolan Baylor, shows up with news she never expected to hear—that their divorce isn’t valid!
Hard To Handle is a different kind of story for me, one I especially enjoyed not only because of the opportunity of working with Carrie and Shannon, but simply because of the journey it took me through.
I hope you enjoy Mikki and Nolan’s journey to find their own happiness. I’d love to hear from you and know what you think! Please write to me at P.O. Box 39, Rouseville, PA 16344 or via e-mail at [email protected].
Until next time,
Jamie Denton
Hard To Handle
Jamie Denton
For my sisters,
Wanda, Stef, Frannie and Lois
I love you all!
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
1
“IS CHOCOLATE REALLY better than sex?” Michaela Correlli asked her sisters, licking a dollop of creamy dark chocolate from the tip of her index finger. Savoring the rich taste, she moaned with sheer hedonistic delight. “This stuff definitely qualifies as a front runner.”
“Depends on the chocolate—and the man.” Lauren Massey polished off her éclair and already had her eye on a second. “Not that I’ve had much by way of comparison lately,” she added.
Mikki envied her younger sister’s ability to eat whatever she wanted and not gain an ounce. If Mikki so much as considered indulging in a second of her older sister Aurora “Rory” Constable’s scrumptious bakery goodies, she’d be relegated to the treadmill for the remainder of her natural life.
“These are a lot more satisfying than the last loser I laid.” Mikki slid the delicate rose-patterned china plate in front of Lauren. “Maybe I should give up sex and stick to chocolate.”
Rory held an oversize Lavender Field promotional mug in her hand. “That’ll be the day,” she said, her green eyes warm with affection.
“I could, you know,” Mikki said, a tad too defensively to be totally convincing.
Lauren snickered.
Mikki smoothed her hands down her slim black skirt as she rose to pour herself another cup of coffee from the big stainless-steel coffee urn in the corner of the back room of Rory’s flagship bakery, Lavender Field. She shot them both a warning glance, which they ignored.
Lauren only laughed louder. “Not in this lifetime, Mikki Mantis.”
Mikki gave the hem of her wine-colored blazer a sharp, indignant tug cringing at the nickname. They knew her too well. She had about as much hope of giving up sex as the San Francisco 49ers did of making it to another Super Bowl without the quarterbacking talents of Joe Montana or Steve Young. Some things in life just weren’t meant to be. As long as Lauren or Rory didn’t expect her to start mooning over some guy, then she figured no harm, no fumble.
“Are you going to tell us what was so important that it couldn’t wait until Saturday?” Lauren asked. “I have a meeting with my managing editor, aka the Queen of Pain, in an hour.”
Mikki returned to her stool and set the matching china cup on the scarred surface of the old butcher-block worktable. The air was redolent with the aromas of freshly baked bread and the dried bunches of lavender strung from the overhead beams. Since Rory had first opened Lavender Field, which had grown into one of the Bay area’s most popular bakeries with a fourth location under development, Mikki and Lauren had been meeting here most Saturday mornings. Their weekly bull sessions touched on men, sex, hopes, dreams, men, sex, work, life, men, sex, films, books. No taboo subject existed between them.
Since Lauren and Rory weren’t her sisters by blood, but of the heart, their relationship was even more precious to Mikki. Rory’s mother, Emma, had been Mikki’s foster mother from the time Mikki had been placed in the Constable home when social services had stepped in to remove her from a bad situation.
Twenty years later she still cringed whenever she recalled what a horrid little witch she’d been those first few months. Mouthy. Sullen. Sneaky… She’d ducked out one night and got herself busted for lifting a bag of potato chips from the corner liquor store. Another night, she’d been picked up by the cops on a curfew violation. All in all, she’d just made a general nuisance of herself. After cutting so many classes she now considered it a miracle she’d even made it out of the seventh grade. She hadn’t made Emma Constable’s job easy, but then, Mikki hadn’t been expecting to stick around for long. Why would she when, at twelve, she’d already been shuffled through a half-dozen foster homes in less than two years?
Initially she’d kept her distance. She hadn’t seen the point in becoming attached to people when they’d eventually call her social worker and toss her out because she wasn’t worth the effort. Although she had instantly recognized that Emma wasn’t like the other foster moms she’d been subjected to, she hadn’t been dumb enough to believe the woman’s earth-mother mask had been for real. In her experience, once the social worker dumped her and took off, the wholesome, all-American family facade