Tori Carrington - Fire And Ice

Jena heard Tommy’s voice just as she rounded the corner. Before she knew what was happening, he’d hauled her into his arms and pressed her against the cool wall in the deserted hallway. She shivered as he eyed her mouth in a predatory way.

“I wanted to make sure no one followed me,” Jena said, surprised at the shallowness of her breathing, the unbearable craving deep in her belly. He hadn’t even touched her yet and she was a heartbeat away from climaxing.

Trembling with anticipation, Jena watched as Tommy slid his finger under one of her dress straps and tugged it down her bare arm until the fabric pulled tight against her breasts. When it scraped against her hypersensitive nipples, she let out a small cry.

“Shhh,” Tommy said, tipping her head forward and kissing her deeply. “We wouldn’t want anyone to hear you and come to investigate.”

Jena gazed into his handsome face. “You’re not suggesting…we’re not going to…”

Tommy licked her bottom lip, then pulled it into his mouth. “Oh, yes, Jena. We very definitely are….”

Dear Reader,

Jena McCade is a woman who knows what she wants and takes it. Wouldn’t we all like to say that about ourselves? Have you ever wondered why so many of us can’t? Perhaps it’s because we’re afraid of finding ourselves smack-dab in the middle of a situation that may be too hot to handle. That’s what happens to our heroine. Because Tommy Brodie should come with a warning label—Caution: Live Wire.

In Fire and Ice, provocative criminal defense attorney Jena McCade has faced her share of opponents in the courtroom, but sexy ex-jock Tommy “Wild Man” Brodie is her toughest opponent yet in the personal arena. When a scorching one-night stand leaves Tommy thinking he can take up permanent residence in her life, Jena uses every weapon in her arsenal to scare him off. Only, Tommy’s made of stronger stuff than that. And when he utilizes a few of his own sexual weapons…well, Jena never stands a chance.

We hope you enjoy Jena and Tommy’s sizzling story. We’d love to hear what you think. Write to us at P.O. Box 12271, Toledo, OH 43612, or visit us on the Web at www.toricarrington.com. And don’t miss Marie’s story, Going Too Far, available in February 2003.

Here’s wishing you happy (and hot!) reading,

Lori & Tony Karayianni

aka Tori Carrington

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Our heartfelt gratitude, as well, to our editor Brenda Chin. She knows why.

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

Epilogue

THE FRICTION OF SKIN against skin sliding one way then the other. Chest tight, nipples bunched into tight points, sending shivers cascading over her body. Stomach trembling, limbs languid yet restless. The sense of moving toward something terrifying and freeing all at once gathered deep in her belly, making her want to pull back and rush toward that place at the same time. Her wet tongue darted out, flicking hungrily over her bottom lip as her breathing grew shallow, air more difficult to come by.

Air whooshed, but not from Jena McCade’s tingling lips. Rather she blinked to find that she wasn’t in the king-size hotel bed she had spent the night in three months ago with hockey player Tommy “Wild Man” Brodie. Rather she was in her office at Lomax, Ferris, McCade and Bertelli, Attorneys-at-Law on a gray Monday morning in late November. And Mona Lyndell, the secretary they all shared, had just dropped an overstuffed manila folder on top of Jena’s desk.

Jena’s cheeks burned as she took a deep, calming breath. She managed a smile at the fifty-something secretary. “Talk about your daydreams,” she whispered.

A frown marred Mona’s clean brow as she smoothed back her salt-and-pepper hair that was ceaselessly pulled into a bun. The style reminded Jena of something an old schoolmarm would wear. Only she couldn’t remember any of her teachers looking like Mona. Instead it looked like something she might have seen in an old Little House on the Prairie episode.

“I was talking about depositions,” the secretary said.

Mona had been talking? Boy, she was in worse shape than she’d thought. Not only hadn’t she heard Mona come in but apparently she’d missed an entire conversation.

“Depositions,” Jena said aloud, trying to jerk her mind away from the heat of her thighs generated by her rubbing them together during her daydream. “Yes.” She pulled the file in front of her. “Good. Good. The lead witness deposition in the Glendale case.”

“Just came in by messenger ten minutes ago.”

“Very good.”

Mona lingered a moment longer.

“What?” Jena said, sounding irritatingly snippy even to herself, which was definitely not normal. When she was snippy she usually intended to be.

Mona’s brows lifted above her large-framed wire glasses. “Did I say anything?”

“No, but I know that look.”

“I was just going to ask if everything was okay. Lately, you seem to be, well…I guess distracted is the word I’m looking for.”

Oh, she was distracted all right. But she wasn’t about to share the reason for that unfortunate state with Mona. Not that she thought the secretary couldn’t keep a secret. Rather she was having a hard time coming to terms with her borderline adolescent musings. She did, not fantasized about doing it.

Jena eyed the now even larger pile of papers regarding the Patsy Glendale murder case taking up the better half of her desk. “Have you given any thought to what I said yesterday?”

Mona’s spine snapped slightly straighter—if that were possible. “You mean about my hair color?”

Jena knew her best friend and partner would absolutely kill her for saying something like this to the older woman. Dulcy Ferris would tell her she was being callous and controlling. The thing of it was Jena thought she was being helpful.

So, okay, the suggestion that Mona might want to reconsider her decision to age naturally and instead look into a good colorist—had even given the secretary the name of her own hairdresser—had come on the heels of an incident just like the one they were experiencing now. Jena had been daydreaming about Tommy, Mona had come in on some urgent business matter or another, and Jena had made the comment on her hair.

And now she was following up on it.

“It was just a thought, Mona.” She sighed, briefly propping her head on her hand, then shoving her fingers through the fine, jet-black strands of her shoulder-length hair. “I can only imagine what you think of the comment.”