Susan Andersen - No Strings Attached

Some mistakes are worth repeating…

Tasha Riordan’s one night with Luc Bradshaw was the best of her life. The following two—when he left her to be thrown into a Bahamian jail on bogus charges—were her worst. Now, seven years later, the undercover DEA agent is back. Invading her town. Her restaurant. Her fantasies. She can’t trust a man who lied to her. Yet neither can she trust herself—not when their chemistry burns even hotter than before.

Learning he has two half brothers shocks Luc. Discovering they live in the same town as Tasha—that’s a different kind of thrill. Their mutual lust is still off the charts, but he can’t get her to listen to his side of what happened on that long-ago night. Good thing he’s got powers of persuasion that go deeper than words. Because nothing has ever felt this right….

No Strings Attached

Susan Andersen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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This is dedicated to girls who wear glasses,

and to all the readers who’ve taken the time

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text Some mistakes are worth repeating… Tasha Riordan’s one night with Luc Bradshaw was the best of her life. The following two—when he left her to be thrown into a Bahamian jail on bogus charges—were her worst. Now, seven years later, the undercover DEA agent is back. Invading her town. Her restaurant. Her fantasies. She can’t trust a man who lied to her. Yet neither can she trust herself—not when their chemistry burns even hotter than before. Learning he has two half brothers shocks Luc. Discovering they live in the same town as Tasha—that’s a different kind of thrill. Their mutual lust is still off the charts, but he can’t get her to listen to his side of what happened on that long-ago night. Good thing he’s got powers of persuasion that go deeper than words. Because nothing has ever felt this right….

Title Page No Strings Attached Susan Andersen www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication This is dedicated to girls who wear glasses, and to all the readers who’ve taken the time to leave reviews and let me know you enjoy my work. Thank you!

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

EPILOGUE

EXTRACT

Copyright

PROLOGUE

Seven years ago. Andros Island, Bahamas

A HOT, MOIST BREEZE, perfumed by the sea and the faintest exotic whiff of an unidentifiable flower, wafted through the hut’s open window just as Tasha Riordan collapsed atop Diego. Her nose squashed into the damp curve where his neck flowed into a muscular shoulder, and as she silently breathed in his salty, slightly spicy scent, it occurred to her she hadn’t once asked what his last name was during the thirtysomething hours since they’d met. Waiting for her heart to cease its thunderous reggae beat, however, she didn’t dwell too closely on that just-met-yesterday thing.

Okay, you would think, given she’d spent a good part of her life keeping her chin up while living her mother’s reputation down, that she’d sort of welcome a little soul-searching. After all, diving into bed with a virtual stranger was a big departure for her.

A big, big departure. Huge. And she ought to be a little concerned about it, right?

Tough-skinned fingertips ran down her naked spine, sparking back to life nerve endings that by rights should have been incinerated to cold, dead ash. “You okay, cariño?” Diego asked, his voice a rumbling vibration beneath the ear she had pressed to his throat.

And just like that, her half-assed inclination to whip herself into a lather of self-recrimination melted away as her lips curved into a little smile against his skin. She didn’t know what it was about this guy, but one thing was for certain: he possessed an undeniable magic. In spades. From the instant he’d approached her on the beach yesterday morning, he’d kept her pretty much swept off her feet.

That was no small accomplishment. Ask anyone back home in Razor Bay, and damn few would hesitate to tell you—Tasha Riordan’s feet were always firmly, pragmatically planted on the ground.

But she merely murmured, “Oh, yeah” and kept her heartfelt And then some to herself.

This was probably par for the course for him. God knew he made her feel things she’d never felt before, and she was usually a hard sell. She could only imagine how many women already geared up for a vacation lover had thrown their room keys at him. The fact that she’d managed to keep her undies on until today was downright brag-worthy. She’d been tempted to shed them from the instant she’d laid eyes on him.

And considering the orgasm he’d just given her, perhaps she should have. It had been the most phenomenal, amazing one of her life.

She swallowed a snort. Like you’ve had so many to compare it to. But she shrugged the thought aside as unimportant. Yeah, yeah, she hadn’t experienced a plethora of non-self-induced climaxes in her twenty-two years. Still, neither was she a virgin, so she’d certainly had enough to know she’d never felt anything close to this. “How are you?” she asked softly.

He went so still she thought he’d suddenly quit breathing. She found herself doing the same. As several heartbeats passed in silence, her euphoria leaked away. Oh, God, she thought. Like you could rock his world. A person only had to look at Diego to understand his experience was galaxies beyond her own.

Then his hands tightened against her back, and he said in a low, gritty voice, “You wanna know how I am?” An exhalation of amusement, which just perhaps wasn’t amusement at all, huffed out of his lungs. “I’m so blown away it’s not even funny.”

“No,” she said on a disbelieving laugh, pushing up to look down at him. She had no illusions about herself. She was tall and skinny and had decent boobs, but hips and a booty that could belong to a twelve-year-old boy. She knew men found her reasonably attractive, but in no man’s universe was she close to being in this guy’s league.

Her mass of strawberry-blond curls, by now scary-crazy-frizzy from air that was still humid from an earlier, short-lived downpour—not to mention Diego’s demanding hands tangling in them—fell forward to intertwine with his sleeker black curls. She looked down at her hands where they splayed against the ebony fan of hair on his deep golden-brown chest. After nine days in the tropics, her skin was the tannest it had ever been. Unfortunately, all that meant was that, instead of its usual 2-percent-milk hue, it was the color of anemic toast.

Diego brought both hands up to smooth her hair away from her face, gathering it into a fat ponytail at the base of her skull. Holding it in one fist, he looked into her eyes, and his own were free of laughter for perhaps the first time since he’d sauntered up to where she’d been dipping her toes in the surf and introduced himself. “Yes,” he refuted, as the fingertips of his free hand brushed up and down the side of her throat. His thumb left a streak of fire in its wake as it briefly swept her jawline. “You blew me right out of the ballpark.” His full mouth developed a wry slant, and his broad shoulders performed a minute shrug against blindingly white sheets. “I didn’t see that coming.”