Marshall Dyson wants one thing and
one thing only: to raze his grandfather’s island to the ground.
Everything is ready to go—except for the freakin’ bunnies! Hundreds of
the furry critters hopping about and multiplying before his eyes. And
then there’s the American Bunny League, along with one distractingly
beautiful veterinarian, taking him to court to save them...
Dr.
Augusta “Gus” North can’t believe the grumpy—and annoyingly hot—builder
she’s facing in court cares more about demo-ing some cabin than the
lives of 200 bunnies. But when the judge orders Marshall to stay on the
island and help her rehome the rabbits—the entire month—she knows
they’re going to need to lay some ground rules.
Like, for example,
absolutely no kissing. Might as well go ahead and get that in writing.
Sure it’s on a napkin, but that still counts.
How hard could it
be to keep their hands off each other amidst all the fighting?
Surprisingly, harder than wrangling 200 bunnies...
Scene set-up
Augusta shows up at Marshall's work site to deliver him his adopted rabbit, Thumper. It's the first time they've seen each other since the island and things get really heated, really quickly....
Smooch -
A guy ran over from a truck, where he’d
been talking to the driver, a frown on his face. “Lady…” he said, raising his
voice a little, “you’re not supposed to be on site without permission and a hard hat.”
“Oh…right, sorry.” Gus also raised her
voice. “I was just looking for Marshall. I mean…Mr. Dyson.”
The guy laughed. “Mr. Dyson? He’s over there.” He pointed to a group huddled around
some plans before putting two less than clean fingers in his mouth and
whistled. It was a piercing noise that cut above the din, and a bunch more men
looked.
Including Marshall.
He was dressed pretty much like everyone
else in heavy-duty pants, boots, a high visibility vest, and hard hat, but he
was Marshall and her heart clunked in her chest as he stood and
stared. Gus knew the feelings swelling inside her were more than just missing him feelings or even falling for him feelings.
They were fallen really hard feelings. Crap.
Suddenly, he was striding toward her,
and Gus’s stomach clenched and her knees knocked as his long legs chewed up the
distance. Sunglasses hid his gaze, so she couldn’t read him, but his stride was
purposeful and…intent.
“Someone to see you, Mr. Dyson,” the guy said with a grin as
Marshall drew level with them.
His eyes may have been hidden, but Gus
could feel his gaze burning into hers. “Piss off, Brett,” Marshall said.
The guy saluted. “Yes, sir, Mr. Dyson, sir,” he said, and ambled off
unhurriedly, chuckling to himself. He joined a huddle of men who clearly had no
intention of getting back to work while there was a woman in stilettos, holding
a rabbit in a cage, talking to the boss.
Marshall whipped his sunglasses off and
Gus’s pulse leapt as his indigo gaze latched hungrily onto hers. He was cleanly
shaven and it took her back to that day in court. Man, had a lot of water
flowed under the bridge since then.
“What’s up, doc?” Then he grinned. “I
wasn’t expecting you.”
Gus smiled. “I thought I’d hand-deliver
your new best friend.” She held up the cage, but Marshall barely paid Thumper
any attention.
His eyes roved over, and he shook his
head. “It had to be the skirt? And the heels?”
Yeah, she shouldn’t have. But the Devil
had ridden her this morning when she’d been deciding what to wear. She probably
wouldn’t have if she’d known she was going to end up on a construction site,
but the heat in his eyes as he looked at her made her decision worthwhile.
Not to mention curling her toes. She
shrugged. “This old thing?”
Grinning, he shook his head. Reaching for
the cage with one hand, he relieved her of it while circling her upper arm with
the other. “Let’s take this somewhere more private, shall we?”
His tug was gentle but firm and, aware
of their audience, Gus followed meekly. But her legs had started shaking again
and her heart was rattling almost as loudly as the jackhammer in her ears.
Towing her toward the trailer, he opened
the door for her and said, “Inside.”
Gus didn’t argue, walking up the two
steps and entering the trailer, conscious of him following into the room. She
looked around—two desks covered in paperwork complete with coffee ring stains,
a filing cabinet with a box of tools on top, several hard plastic chairs, walls
devoid of any decoration, and layers of dust clinging to all the surfaces.
Two pedestal fans, with rivulets of grime
clinging to their cages, pushed warm air around the room. A wash basin that had
clearly never been cleaned stood next to a bar fridge on top of which was a
coffee percolator, the pot half full.
To say it reeked of testosterone was an
understatement.
She stepped to the side and he brushed
past, her body lurching at the slight caress as he put the cage down behind the
far desk and quickly washed his hands.
“Shut the door.”
Gus did as he asked, the construction
noise muffling instantly. So much for not being alone with him in an office. Turning
to face Marshall, she leaned her back against the door, watching as he dried
his hands on some paper towels then crossed to the window, where he reached for
the cord of the blinds. With a quick pull, they dropped down.
A twist of his wrist and the slats
snapped shut.
The room dimmed a little, stray fingers
of sunlight still managing to poke in around the edges of the covering. His
eyes met hers and locked as he took off his hard hat, ruffling his hair with
one hand as he threw the hat on the nearest desk with the other.
“No, leave it,” she said, her voice
husky with nerves and the way his gaze was eating her up. “I like it. Very blue
collar.”
“Another time,” he growled, prowling
towards her.
Gus pressed her knees together as he
approached. Everything inside her heated, melted, liquefied. She shouldn’t be
here with him, like this. No good could come of it.
He stopped in front of her, just out of
reach. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he said, his eyes roving over her face.
“Better speak up if you’re not down with that.”
Gus knew she should speak up. Knew she
should move. She’d fallen for a man who came with a built-in expiration date. But
she did neither.
She didn’t want to move. She wanted
him to kiss her.
He nodded and muttered, “Okay then,”
taking that last step toward her, slipping one hand onto her hip, cupping the
other around her jaw, his mouth swooping down to claim hers in a hard, hot, hungry
kiss.
Her head thunked back against the door at the force of it and sparkles of
color popped behind her eyes. Her pulse thrummed through her veins as she grabbed
for his shoulders, pulling him closer, his hand slid to her ass and hitched her
closer again, her heels high enough to bring their hips into alignment.
He groaned against her mouth. He tasted
like coffee and smelled like sunshine and shampoo, and her nose filled with the
scent and the flavor of him as she kissed him back harder and hotter.
But it wasn’t enough. She squirmed
against him, needing him closer.
Needing more of him.
All of him.
As if he could read her mind, his hand
was at her waist, pulling her blouse out of her skirt and his palm was pushing
under the fabric, big and hot on her skin as it smoothed up, up, up until it
hit the fleshy satin rise of her breast, and then he was squeezing and kneading
and pulling the cup aside, his fingers taunting her aching nipple.
Gus gasped, breaking their lip lock as
they squeezed. She arched and cried out and he kissed her again and again and
again, his hands making short work of her buttons before groping for the zipper
at the back of her skirt.
“Up,” she said, panting against his
mouth. “Up is easier.”
F0r a chance to win a digitial copy of The Kissing Contract leave an answer to the question in the comments and come back next week for the announcement of the winner and another Smooch!
Question - hard hat yes, or hard hat no? :-)
