Samhain Publishing Ltd, Ebooks and Books in Print

Jenny Lee stared up at the high pitched ceiling and the dark beams overhead. Where was she? As the mental fog cleared, a warm hand cupped her breast. She almost jerked to sitting, remembering exactly where she was and, more to the point, what they’d done last night and repeated somewhere around dawn. If she remembered rightly-and she was darn certain she did-that hand was attached to a strong, tanned arm with sun-bleached, silvery blond hairs and at the other end of the arm was the darn good-looking man who’d poked his head though her car window yesterday afternoon.

So much for foreign travel! When she broke down in Ohio, octogenarians with beer guts as deep as Lake Erie rescued her. In England, a sex god offered her a hitch on his Range Rover. And…

Any female in her right mind should jump out of bed and run, but Jenny doubted she could move, much less run, not with a strong arm round her waist and a muscular thigh pinning her legs to the mattress. Why hadn’t she behaved like any sensible woman and crept out as soon as he dropped off to sleep after their first energetic bout? Because her rental car was defunct and truth to tell, she wanted to stay. In a few short hours, Rob Castle-at least she remembered his name-had wormed a place into her mind, and now, would be leaving a gaping hole in her heart. A stronger woman would have said ‘no’ to the sexiest, most bedworthy man she’d ever laid eyes on. Jenny caved in ten minutes after meeting his dark brown eyes, and that was hours before he’d proved to be a seemingly tireless, wildly enthusiastic, and verging on the incredible, lover.

No mortal male could possibly be that marvelous. Jet lag had scrambled her brains.

A soft trail of kisses from her hairline down to her shoulder set her thinking straight. Rob had a magic mouth. “Awake yet, Jenny?”

Awake and rapidly coming to her senses. There was no way she was… “Ah!” He flipped her onto her back.

“Shush.” His voice was as gentle as the fingers making figure eights around her breasts. “It’s alright. No point in getting up yet.”

The kisses on her neck only half-convinced her. “Don’t you have cows to milk or pigs to feed?”

He slowly licked up her neck. “They can wait,” he said, his breath warm in her ear. “Besides.” Strong, lean fingers and a callused palm cupped her breast. “Your car won’t be ready until nine.” She gave a little yelp as his teeth nipped her ear lobe. “You’re better off here with me, than hanging around Tommy Warton’s forecourt.”