Reflections: Sneak Peek At HOT TIME IN THE CITY

Coming July 1st to Whiskey Creek Press Torrid, part of the Summer Sizzlers Anthology:

The third story in the seasonal theme, Hot Time in the City is Brandt de Winton's tale.

Back at Friends, Incorporated co-owner Brandt de Winton has come face to face with Dakota Jennings, the woman he'd loved and lost through his own short-sightedness. Now she's back, asking for his help. Can he convince her to give him another chance, to forget and forgive old hurts? Maybe, but there's a price to pay, and it involves the use of his handcuffs...

* * * *

“Why do you have to have a goddamned summer wedding, anyway?” Brandt stared down at his cousin, trying to steel himself against the pitiful look in her slate-blue eyes. He tossed the last orange peel from his late lunch into the black mesh wastebasket beside his desk. “It’s hot as hell out, humidity’s up. It feels like a fucking sauna outside.”

Syd crossed her arms, her look going from pleading to glaring in a split second. “You have been like a bear with a bee up his butt since you got back from Akron three months ago. You haven’t stopped cussing, either. What’s your problem?”

He ground his teeth together, refusing to answer. What could he say, anyway? That he’d totally fucked things up for himself when he was in Akron? That he’d condemned himself to live half a life because he’d been too damned stubborn to accept the gift he’d been given?

That he’d thought Dakota had been too good to be true, and had set out to prove it only to be slapped in the face by the truth? The truth that she was good and honest and so goddamned sexy he got hard just thinking about her?

No, he couldn’t tell anyone what a total ass he’d been. He was too ashamed of his callous behavior. Too hurt by the memory of her tear-stained cheeks.

Raking a hand through his hair, he swore under his breath. “Fine,” he muttered, turning from her to sit behind his desk. He rotated his shoulders, trying to ease the knots that had been there since April. “Fine. I’ll stand with Turner and be co-best man for your fiancé.”

“Thank you.” Syd walked forward and perched on the edge of his desk. Her voice soft, she asked, “And the other? Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” When she would have said more, he held up his hand to stop her. “Really, Sydney. I appreciate your concern, but there’s nothing to discuss.”

She got off his desk and walked out of the office. “Okay, okay.” Pausing at the door, she looked back at him. “But if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.”

He leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, where a headache was forming. Damn it. Four months, and he was walking around like a lion with a thorn in his paw. He couldn’t get Dakota out of his mind, wondering how she was doing, what she was doing, who she was doing.

And that was what made him the craziest. The thought of all that silken skin bared for another man, her lush breasts hard and ripe for another man’s mouth, her beautiful, swollen pussy spread for another’s possession.

He should do something about it. He could. But he had no right.

Not after the way he’d treated her.

Closing his eyes, he saw her again as she’d looked sprawled beneath him, her face flushed, eyes dark with desire. Voice throaty and pleading as he sensually tortured her.

“Hello, Brandt.” Her husky voice intruded, crawling through his nerve endings, setting them on fire.

He hunched his shoulders. His tortured thoughts had conjured an audio hallucination. God, it was confirmed: he had lost his fucking mind.

“Brandt?”

Looking up, he saw her standing in the doorway, a tremulous smile on her face. She was really here. He shot to his feet, knocking his chair back against the wall. Striding to her, he grabbed her upper arms and pulled her into the room, slamming the door behind her. He released her and leaned against the door, blocking her exit.

His first thought was to keep her from leaving.

His second thought: Damn. She looks good.

"Women with 'pasts' interest men because men hope that history will repeat itself." ~Mae West