“You don’t hide very well, Ms. Cooper...”

      Her breath hitched. “Maybe I wanted to be found, Mr. Maxwell.”

      “Did you now,” he murmured.

      “I bit my lip when you pulled me around.” His mouth was so close to hers their lips brushed, featherlight, as she spoke.

      “I apologize.”

      “Don’t.” Her pulse thundered. “Kiss it and make it better.”

      Tipping her chin up, he closed the distance between them.

      Their lips slid together like two puzzle pieces clicking into place, solid and secure. Tongues touched, tentative yet growing bolder. Hands roamed, slow but desperate. And in no time at all, she was lost to the moment.

      Seconds turned into minutes as he caressed her face, her neck, the upper swells of her breasts. He treated her like a sensual feast. Short breaths skated over her skin. When he slipped a hand under her shirt and deft fingers found one nipple, she gasped his name and let her head fall back.

      Hunger. All she could think was that he made her hunger for him. Deprived of such sensual sensation for so long, she couldn’t do anything more than follow his lead in the moment. She knew she needed to get her feet underneath her, and she would.

      Dear Reader,

      Welcome back to the world of Beaux Hommes, the hottest and most exclusive all-male revue in Seattle. It’s Friday night, the place is packed and the music’s just cuing up. You’re in for a real treat, because the men who dance here? They know just how to crank the patrons up when they take it all off.

      Writing the second book in this trilogy was an exciting challenge. It takes our hero out of the strip club environment for part of the book and places him in his first post-university job—the one he’s dreamed of for so long it’s become as familiar as a well-worn pair of jeans. He’s comfortable with the opportunities he’s created for himself. There’s no doubt in his mind he’ll be successful if he sticks to his five-year plan. Nothing is going to derail him from giving back to the same community service that saved his life all those years ago.

      Enter the heroine, who just happens to be the conductor on the hero’s train to contentment. She’s not about to settle for his cautious plan when she finally finds herself in the arms of the one man she’s craved for so long. Nope. Content just won’t cut it, and settling isn’t in her vocabulary.

      This is a story of heartache and hope, but it’s also about the power to be more than the sum of your past—whether you chose it or until you worked up the bravery to claim those things that always seemed out of reach. Particularly love.

      Fondly,

      Kelli Ireland

      Wound Up

      Kelli Ireland

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      From stable hand to a name on the door of a corporate American office, KELLI IRELAND has been many things. (Never a waitress, however. Thank-you cards for her sparing the unsuspecting public from this catastrophe can be sent in care of her agent.) Writing has always been her passion, though. And writing romance? An absolute dream come true. Her theory is that a kiss should be meaningful regardless of length, a hero can say as much with a well-written look as he can with a long-winded paragraph and heroines are meant to hold their own. She’s no Cinderella, and Shakespeare wrote the only Romeo and Juliet, so Kelli sticks to women who can save themselves and tortured heroes who are loath to let them.

      Kelli and her husband live in the South, where all foods are considered fry-able and bugs die only to be reborn in bloodsucking triplicate. Visit her online at lkelliireland.com anytime.

      MILLS & BOON

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      To Heather Tebbs, who has never met a challenge she couldn’t conquer.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       Introduction

      Dear Reader

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Dedication

      1

      2

      3

      4

      5

      6

      7

      8

      9

      10

      11

      12

       13

       14

       15

       16

       17

       18

       Extract

       Copyright

       1

      THE METRO TRANSIT belched a nauseating exhaust cloud as it pulled away from the curb. The transit authority might have a clean-fuel

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