War
stories. Every lawyer has them. Including me.
Some
are crazy. Some are funny. Some are unbelievable. And some will give you the
chills—like the time a client threatened to kill me with his AK-47 because he
didn’t want to pay his bill after his divorce.
It
wasn’t the first time I had been threatened, so I did what most threatened
lawyers do. Nothing. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the desired the response. He
called the law society and told them he was on his way to my office, AK-47 in
hand. The law society called the police. But...oops. They forgot to tell me.
Imagine
sitting at your desk, sipping your coffee on a sunny weekday afternoon. The
birds are twittering outside. The office is buzzing with activity. Clients come
and go, colleagues prep for trial, documents are drafted, gossip is shared. You
finalize the last draft of a witness statement and remove it from the printer.
Coffee in one hand, statement in the other, you walk to reception hoping you’ll
be in time to catch the last post run.
Suddenly,
the front door explodes open. A wave of flak-jacketed, black-helmeted, armed
police storm into the office. Boots pound across the floor in time to the
frantic thud of your heart.
“Get
down! Get down!”
Coffee
flies, paper scatters. You throw yourself on the scratchy carpet, cover your
head with your hands and hope this is some kind of training exercise.
Crash.
Bang. Shouts. Screams. The police drag your colleagues from their offices and
point them to the floor. Drapes are drawn, windows are closed, doors are shut. Police
line the walls, growl into radios, unplug the office phones.
“Which
one of you is Sarah?”
The
end of an otherwise unremarkable afternoon.
Of
course, there is more to the story. Much more. Police protection, taunting
criminals, disguises, escape attempts, trials in locked courtrooms, undercover
stings...all the usual excitement. We’ll save that for another day **winks**.
In the end, though, the bad guy was caught and put in jail. Hurrah!
But
that event stayed with me. Suspense. Drama. Thrills. Chills. Excitement. Mystery.
And, of course, romance (in the end, all he really wanted was for his wife to
come home). All tied up in a nice legal bow. When I sat down to write LegalHeat, I knew my novel had to have all those things. And more. There had to be a
happy ending. Oh...and smex. Smokin’ hot smex!
LEGAL HEAT. Passion this hot should be illegal.
And it almost was.
Passion this hot should be illegal...
Katy Sinclair made it to the brink of partnership at her
high-powered law firm with hard work, dogged determination, and the ruthless
self-discipline to cultivate a conservative public image. But when she follows
an evasive witness into a sex club, she can’t deny herself a red-hot sexual
encounter with the seductive bartender who sets her body on fire. She’s sure no
one will ever know about her indiscretion —until she walks into the courtroom
to find her dirty little secret is the opposing counsel in the most important
case of her career.
As the managing partner in a struggling law firm, hot-shot
attorney Mark Richards can’t afford any mistakes that might cost him his
biggest client. Like getting involved with his beautiful, determined
opponent—the mystery woman he hasn’t been able to forget. But when Katy’s quest
for justice leads to death threats, Mark will sacrifice everything to protect
her.
Now they’re risking their hearts…and their lives…in a race
to catch a killer. Little do they know, the greatest danger lies closer to
home.
Warning: This book contains explicit sex, light
bondage, violence, murder, steamy shenanigans in the courtroom, naughty
sexytimes in the boardroom, and an exceptionally hot hero with a versatile tie.
Any objections will be overruled.
EXCERPT
“What about you?” He folded his arms and cocked an eyebrow.
“Did you come here with a secret agenda?”
“No secret agenda. When Valerie told me she worked at the
club, I was curious so I agreed to meet her here instead of at my office.”
“Brave girl,” he murmured.
Katy cocked an eyebrow and put her hands on her hips. She
hadn’t been called a girl since she turned eighteen. “That was slightly
condescending.”
His eyes crinkled and a smile played at the corners of his
broad, sensuous mouth. “The correct response to a compliment is thank you.”
She walked over to another part of the collection and
pulled out a dusty bottle. “I hardly think that was—”
“I’m waiting.”
Surprised by his warning tone, she turned to face him.
He sat back in his chair, long, muscular legs spread,
corded forearms crossed, dark eyes calm and focused. But despite his casual
manner, she sensed power and tension coiled in his lean body, like a cobra
ready to spring.
A thrill of fear raced through her, followed by a sharp
spike of arousal. She tempered it quickly. No way would she be pushed around
even if secretly his commanding tone turned her on. She replaced the bottle in
the rack. “I think we’d better get back upstairs.”
His voice softened. “Why are you running away?”
She spun around to face him. “I’m not running away. I…I’ve
seen the wine cellar so I thought”
“You’re afraid.”
Katy folded her arms. “Not at all.”
“Your body says otherwise.”
She froze and then sucked in a breath. “What do you mean by
that?”
“Body language. You’re flushed, trembling. Your breathing
rate has increased. Your eyes are wide. Your hands are clenched into fists.
Your tongue…” He paused and his voice lowered to a husky growl. “Your tongue
keeps darting out to lick your lips. If that isn’t fear, sugar, what could it
be?”
Arousal, fierce and unfamiliar, shot through her like an
electric current, flaming her body, burning a path to her core. Sweat broke out
on her heated skin. Her mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.
Mark’s lips curled into a slow, sensual smile. “Come here,
Katy-who-isn’t-afraid.” The sound of his voice, hard and low, sent a chill down
her spine.
No, not a chill. A heat wave. A fever. Maybe she was ill.
Maybe that’s why her cheeks burned and sweat trickled between her breasts.
But that didn’t explain the deep yearning that had risen up
within her. Oh, she wanted to go to him, tear his clothes off, climb onto his
lap, run her hands over his broad chest and then lower. It was as if she had
been starving for years and he was a banquet waiting to be tasted.
Maybe that was the truth of it.
Giving herself a mental shake, she willed the sensation to
go away. What the hell was going on? Was she seriously contemplating having sex
with a stranger in the basement of a fetish club?
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Why?”
“Didn’t you want the Meursault?”
Katy nodded and her pulse kicked up a notch.
“Third row down, second bottle from the left.” He pointed
above his head.
Katy raised an eyebrow. “A gentleman would get it for me.”
“I’m not feeling like a gentleman right now. Especially
after your stirring performance upstairs and the way you’re looking at me
now—like you want to devour me.” The heat in his eyes matched his voice, dark
and sinful, like a rich Amarone. How long had it been since a man had gazed at
her with such desire? After Justin’s birth, Steven had never once looked at her
with anything more than mild interest.
Katy lowered her eyes. “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean…”
He cut her off. “Katy.”
She looked up into
amused brown eyes and then drank in the sight of his hard, muscular body
sprawled across the chair; his long legs open and inviting.
Craving, deep and delicious, flooded her veins.
“Come here, sugar. I won’t bite.”
“It’s not the biting I’m worried about.” Nor was it him.
Her gut told her he wouldn’t hurt her. If he had wanted to try anything, he
wouldn’t have waited this long. No, it was her. She had lost control of herself
and she had no idea what this new, lust-driven Katy Sinclair was about to do.
Still, his soft, cajoling voice drew her forward. Although
she wanted the wine, she wanted him more. But after ten years on the bench, she
didn’t remember how to play the game.
Her heels clicked on the flagstone floor as she closed the
distance between them, stopping only a foot away. Even seated, he intimidated
her. But God was he sexy. Her pulse raced and her throat turned dry.
He studied her for a long moment, his gaze intense and
unwavering. “I’m beginning to wonder if we haven’t met before.”
Katy shook her head. “We haven’t. I’m sure of it. You’re not
someone I would ever forget.” Or ever will. She stepped closer, her
body now only inches from his. She caught the scent of his spicy aftershave and
something raw and purely masculine. A quiver of fear ran through her followed
again by the fierce rush of arousal.
“Good girl.”
“I’m hardly a girl.”
He reached out and put his hands on her hips, drawing her
close, until she could feel the heat of his breath on her breasts through the
thin cotton of her shirt. She bit her lip to stifle a moan.
“Most definitely not,” he murmured.
Inexplicable desires wracked Katy’s body. She wanted to
thread her fingers through his hair, straddle his body and press her breasts
against his full, sensuous lips.
Her briefcase dropped, unbidden, to the floor. She ran a
tentative finger along the square line of his jaw, rough with stubble, but
pulled away at his sharp intake of breath.
“Put it back.” He lifted her hand and pressed it against
his cheek, trapping it with his own. His skin was warm, firm. So sexy. She felt
the slip of arousal between her thighs and drew in a ragged breath.
Get a grip, Katy. This isn’t you.
She eased herself out of his grasp. “You’re going to have
to move. I’m not reaching over you.”
“Shame.” He stood with the grace of a man half his size and
pulled the chair out of her way.
Katy reached for the bottle. Too high. She looked over her
shoulder. Mark’s gaze was fixed firmly on her…ass. She snorted a laugh. “When
you’re done, maybe you could give me a hand.”
Mark grinned and walked toward her, stopping so close she
could feel the heat radiating from his body across every inch of her back. He
put one arm around her waist and pulled her into his broad chest.
“Where do you want it, sugar?” he whispered, his breath
warm and moist in her ear.
Red, hot flames of need licked through her body. “Want
what?”
“My hand.”
She could think of several places she wanted his hand.
Places Steven had rarely touched. Emboldened by his obvious interest, and her
own simmering arousal, she let her head fall back on his shoulder and looked up
at him. “I’m not that kind of girl.”
His body shook with laughter. “What kind of girl?”
“The kind of girl who tells a man where she wants his
hand.”
He stroked the curve of her waist and brushed his lips over
her ear. “You don’t have to tell me, sugar. I know.”
Sarah Castille
Wow...talk about writing what you know...Great post Sarah - I'm glad you were okay and that the person was caught...sounds very scary. Legal Heat sounds fantastic and I can't wait to read it!
ReplyDeleteLove the cover, Sarah. Sounds like a book I need to read.
ReplyDelete