Mia Zachary - Red Shoes and A Diary

Meghan’s words faded into silence. She blinked several times as her cheeks started to flame. This wasn’t the hairy little gnomelike man who’d propositioned her earlier. Slowly she pulled her focus up from the button fly of a pair of well-worn jeans.

Her gaze continued up, past a slim waist to a broad chest, beyond a set of wide shoulders until her eyes found his ruggedly handsome face. He was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Tall, dark and fabulous, this bad boy had walked straight out of her erotic fantasies.

“I didn’t know it was that kind of resort,” he said, grinning. “Usually I have to ask before I get rejected.”

The rough timbre of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. “Um, I thought you were someone else.”

His smile widened in amusement…and interest? “You mean you do want to have sex?”

Meghan didn’t know how to respond to his teasing. This guy was too hot. Thinking about her plans to indulge in a no-strings affair with a stranger, she suddenly wasn’t so sure she could go through with it. Then he smiled, radiating dark sensuality and dangerous allure.

Then again, she thought. What red-blooded woman could resist?

Dear Reader,

Can you imagine a perfect lover, a man who somehow knows your secret desires? Can you imagine giving in to sensual impulses and living out your sexy fantasies?

Meghan Foster wants to have a wildly passionate affair, like the ones she writes about in her diary. Alex Worth is the kind of guy fantasies are created for. But the ideal man isn’t always what he seems. Especially when he’s using Meghan’s own imagination to seduce her…

I’m thrilled to be writing for Blaze, a line I’ve enjoyed since its launch a year and a half ago. These books have brought me countless hours of sensual reading pleasure. I hope you get as much enjoyment from reading about Alex and Meghan’s sexual adventures as I did coming up with them.

The journey to publication is often a long and frustrating one. To find out how I got here, and to see where I’m going, visit my Web site at www.miazachary.com. Follow your dreams. You never know where they might take you.

I wish you joy.

Mia Zachary

P.S. While you’re online, be sure to check out www.tryblaze.com.

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With love to Mom, who always believed,

and to Heather, who was always there.

I’m deeply grateful to my wonderful editor, Brenda Chin, for taking a chance and for hating my cruise ship. Special thanks to my critique partners, Kelly Young and Deanna Lilly, and to all my friends at www.cataromance.com.

Monday, July 14

What will it be like to have a physical encounter with a stranger? To give myself over to sexual exploration and shed my inhibitions?

On these pages, as “Elise,” my other self, I’ve been wild and sensual, daring and seductive. I’ve fantasized about a tall, dark-haired lover who makes me feel sexy, desirable, feminine. I’ve dreamed of taking chances, letting go.

With the last entry of this diary comes a new beginning. What will it be like to find a lover and say, “Take me, I’m yours”?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

ALEX WORTH STRODE down the fancy marbled hallway, looking for his room—his “suite.” He never thought a guy like him would be staying in a place like the Cayo Sueño Resort. Finally, an undercover assignment with perks.

His conscience spoke loudly in his head. Remember how you got here. Don’t forget what’s at stake.

He ignored the stab of guilt and kept walking. There, on the left. Room—Suite 809. He disengaged the lock and swung the door open. The first thing he noticed was a pair of sandals in front of the couch. The cherry-red high heels had “seduce me” written all over them.

Alex glanced at his magnetic hotel card key and then checked it against the door number. He was in the right place. He looked back over at the sexy sandals. Talk about service. The hotel room came with a woman.

“Hello?”

He listened intently for any sound of movement. Nothing.

After setting his carry-all in the foyer, he slammed the door shut as a warning.

Still no answer. The thick carpet muffled his steps as he moved farther into the suite. He called out again, his voice echoing off the pale papered walls.

“Hello? Anyone here?”

He poked his head into the bathroom. No woman. Just a makeup bag on the vanity and a used towel hanging on the shower rod. The living room was empty, too, except for the lingering scent of perfume. Something floral, but somehow smoky…

A lace-edged bra and matching panties were carefully arranged on the couch cushion. Alex smirked. Who was this woman? The bright red lingerie had been laid out precisely, like she’d wanted to see how they’d look on her body. He picked up the bra, trying to imagine the breasts that fit into it. The satin fabric felt slippery between his fingers and it wasn’t hard to picture a hot babe who was equally slick.

He dropped the bra back on the couch, scooped the sandals off the floor and headed for the other room. Maybe the woman was lounging on the bed silently waiting for him.

Nope. No such luck. What the hell was going on? How did she get into his suite, and more importantly, where was she now?

Two small suitcases sat against the wall beside the closet. He set the shoes down and flipped one of the luggage tags around. Apparently Meghan Elise Foster was visiting Florida from Baltimore, Maryland. He had a name now, but her reason for being here was still a mystery.

He’d been invited to Cayo Sueño by Rogelio Braga, his connection in the Miami cartel. Braga was supposed to introduce him to the infamous Frankie Ramos. So Alex couldn’t trust anything about this trip, not even bright red panties that begged, “touch me.” Too many good agents had been compromised in situations just like this.

A third suitcase lay open on the bed. It was half full, as if she’d been interrupted. He didn’t hesitate over rummaging through the contents. He’d worked undercover too long to let a little issue like privacy stop him. He had to know who this woman was.

The “touch me” panties and “seduce me” sandals didn’t go with the clothes laid out on the bed. Quality, with recognizable labels, but kind of plain. The skirts were long, the necklines high and everything was a solid color, not a stripe or pattern in sight.

On the other hand, the underwear couldn’t have been hotter. He recognized it from his ex-wife’s catalogues that still came to the house. Bright floral demi bras, satin tap pants and lace camisoles spilled from the suitcase. Most of the stuff still had price tags attached.