Samantha Hunter - Hard to Resist

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Cover Page

Title Page Hard to Resist Samantha Hunter www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author SAMANTHA HUNTER lives in Syracuse, New York, where she writes full-time. When she’s not plotting her next story, Sam likes to work in her garden, quilt, cook, read and spend time with her husband and their dogs. You can check out what’s new, enter contests, or drop her a note at her website, www.samanthahunter.com.

Dedication For all my friends at Love Is an Exploding Cigar, who make every day, even tough writing days, fun.

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

Epilogue

Copyright

SAMANTHA HUNTERlives in Syracuse, New York, where she writes full-time. When she’s not plotting her next story, Sam likes to work in her garden, quilt, cook, read and spend time with her husband and their dogs. You can check out what’s new, enter contests, or drop her a note at her website, www.samanthahunter.com.

For all my friends at Love Is an Exploding Cigar, who make every day, even tough writing days, fun.

“I THINK WE REALLY might have found the twelve sexiest men in America,” Lacey Graham’s assistant, Jackie, sighed as they took in the photographic buffet of gorgeous men before them on the project board. The final selections for the “Sexiest American Heroes” calendar had been made the week before. As photographer for the project, these gorgeous guys were all now in Lacey’s capable hands.

Lacey stood back, one arm wrapped across her middle with her other elbow balancing on it, her chin resting in her fingers as she assessed the blowups of the hunks with a cool, experienced eye.

Too many blondes in a row in March, April and May —she’d switch April with August. Since they were in October now, she’d reversed the schedule, starting with Mr. December, who was set to arrive tomorrow, and November a few days later. She wanted to take them one at a time, calling them back at a later date for group cover shots.

She and Jackie had been juggling these promo shots all day, most of which were not professionally done but were good enough for roughs. Actually, it was impressive how incredible these men looked in the bad lighting and overly bright PR poses. Her hands itched to get to work, to get them in the right setting, good light.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a collection of perfect men all in one place.” Jackie sighed. “I want them all, and not necessarily one at a time.”

Lacey chuckled. “Down, girl. Don’t you have a steady boyfriend?”

“Well, sure, but I can window-shop, can’t I? K.C. is my guy, and he knows it, but frankly, he’s not above checking out some beautiful woman when she walks by and turnaround is fair play. So if you had to choose…?” Jackie prompted Lacey mischievously.

Lacey shook her head, not interested. She looked at the men on the board in the only way she could, as professional modeling subjects and that was all. She rubbed her right forearm, knowing it was healed, but a shadow of an ache lingered anyway. Her last lover had not taken her attempts to break up very well, leaving her with a broken forearm as a parting gift, along with an assortment of bruises and a nasty laceration that had taken several stitches. Broken hearts were something you could get over most of the time, but having someone break your arm wasn’t easily forgotten.

Swallowing deeply, she studied the board, fighting the sick feeling in her stomach that she got whenever she thought about being with a man. It would pass. She’d get back in the game at some point. When she was ready and not before, not even for guys like the ones lined up in front of her. Until then, she’d keep to herself and focus on her work. That was what mattered.

No one here knew her secret.

Jackie didn’t know and no one was going to know about what had happened with Scott, her ex. On the advice of the doctor who treated her arm, Lacey had made one visit to an abuse counselor when she’d arrived in the city. Once she saw the haunted expressions of the women sitting in the lobby, she’d walked back out. That wasn’t her. She’d handle it on her own.

What Scott had done to her had been a onetime thing, a huge, incredibly stupid mistake. But Lacey hadn’t waited around for more and wouldn’t allow it to happen again. She wasn’t like the women who were trapped or who wouldn’t leave.

Still, the memory pinched at her as much as the residual ache in her arm. On a certain level, she was irritated with herself for not being able to enjoy the beauty of the men as she once would have done. Like Jackie said, there was nothing wrong with looking.

There was no doubt that the array of males she’d be working with were prime fantasy material. She also knew she shouldn’t change her perception of all men because of one bad apple. She knew that—in her head.

Her heart, however, was still playing “keep away,” and so was her body. She’d made a few small forays into a normal dating life—tried to go out to clubs with friends—but it hadn’t worked out. The thought of a man touching her, even to dance…well…not yet.

“I’m a professional. I don’t have a favorite,” she said primly, breaking the spell of her thoughts.

Jackie wasn’t buying it. “Ha. Give me a break. Check out Mr. November and tell me he’s not absolutely perfect.”

Lacey glanced up, relenting just slightly. “No one is perfect.”

“Cynic.”

“Groupie.”

They grinned at each other, and Lacey relented a little. “It is hard to resist an honest-to-goodness cowboy.”

“Not a cowboy, a Texas Ranger,” Jackie corrected with flourish. “Rough, rugged, and they always get their man.”

“Isn’t that the Mounties?”

“Whatever. I bet they always get their girl, too.”

Lacey studied the man staring out from the Ranger’s PR photo and smiled. “He’s got good eyes. Dark hair, dark eyes. That straight jawline could be on a statue at the Met, but he’s so serious. All the rest are smiling.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like having his picture taken.”

“We’ll have to change that right quick,” Lacey said in a mock Western accent, slipping out of her serious self for a moment, though she couldn’t joke about the facts in front of her.

“This guy is the real deal. Look at his bio. Very single, career cop, has more awards and recognitions than I can count. He was nominated for the calendar by his community after he stopped a school shooter single-handedly. He found the guy targeting a local migrant school before the shooting happened. Tracked him through the Texas desert for five days and brought him back. Alive.”

“Wow,” Jackie breathed the word, fanning her face, and Lacey had to agree. Wow indeed.

Lacey couldn’t help but be impressed with the stories of the twelve men on her wall. They were good men. Men who put their lives on the line to help others. The one thing all of the calendar candidates had in common was that they’d pitched in to help during the weeks of 9/11, one of the criteria for the application.

The Bliss calendar this year was going to be a smash, a celebration of the best of the best. It was also going to be a very visible leap for Lacey into the world of commercial photography. It could push her to the top. That was what she was counting on, anyway.