JENNIFER LABRECQUE - Anticipation

Not to be deterred, Serena reached out and lazily ran her hand over his leg. “Sure. Okay.”

Nick jumped back as if he’d been burned. “I’m serious. You’re wasting your time here, Serena. You can report back to AJ that you came, you saw and you didn’t conquer. The bet’s still on.”

She stood and stepped closer to him. “Fine.” Then, before he could stop her, she slipped her index fingers into the edge of his pants, feeling a rush at the warm satin of his skin against the backs of her fingers. “But Nick, fooling around isn’t sleeping. Can’t we still play?” She didn’t have to work at imbuing her voice with a low huskiness.

He grabbed her wrists and set her away from him. “It’s time for you to leave, Serena.”

But she couldn’t. Even though she’d love to run screaming from the room and leave behind the fire ignited by the brief touch of his hands, she had a job to do. She shook her head and scraped her fingernail down his chest. “But I just got here. We haven’t even had any fun yet.” She paused. “And Nick, I’ve heard you’re lots of fun….”

Dear Reader,

I knew when I first introduced Nick O’Malley in his big brother’s story, Really Hot!, that he was special. But I wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of reader mail I got asking for Nick’s story. And since I always listen and try to deliver when I can, here is Nick’s Blazing tale….

But not just any woman would do for Nick. She had to be someone different, someone special. And when Serena Riggs, a tough undercover cop, breezed into my imagination, I knew Nick had met his match.

It’s one of my favorite setups in a romance—putting together two people who are intellectually the worst possible choice for one another, but ultimately just what the other needs. And they need each other quite a bit in this story….

I hope you enjoy Nick and Serena’s grand adventure. I would love to hear from you. Check me out and e-mail me at my Web site, www.jenniferlabrecque.com, or snail mail me at P.O. Box 298, Hiram, GA 30141.

Happy reading,

Jennifer LaBrecque

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Thanks to the Boston Police Department for the inspiration. All the inaccuracies are strictly my own.

To Robert, my Massachusetts-born hero.

I’m glad you decided to stay.

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

Epilogue

“I GET OFF OF work in two hours.” Cherry, a new waitress, placed the wings and a beer pitcher in the table’s center. The food and drinks were for everyone, but the sultry look was for Nick only.

Nick O’Malley smiled back at her but didn’t comment. Cherry stood, blocking the ball game. Obviously the regular staff at Dougal’s Sports Bar and Grill hadn’t taught Cherry the cardinal rule of waitressing in a sports bar: no blocking the big screen. Dougal’s wasn’t Boston’s finest or oldest, but Nick and his buddies had idled away many afternoons and evenings there in the past nine years since they’d reached legal drinking age. Cherry finally left, casting an inviting glance over her shoulder on her way to the kitchen.

“Man, you suck. You don’t even have to try to pick up chicks,” AJ groused and reached for the wing basket, shaking his blond crew-cut head in disgust.

The room groaned in chorus as Donovan struck out Perez…bases loaded…third out at the top of the ninth. The Red Sox had shot that game to hell.

“It’s gotten even worse since you hit every trashy newspaper in the country.” AJ didn’t let it go. “Amazing. You get caught embezzling half a million, your big brother goes on two reality shows to help you come up with the money you owe, the press gets wind of it and—bam—you’re famous.”

And he’d rather AJ not bring it up. It hadn’t exactly been his finest moment. His serious lapse in judgment had affected his whole family. He’d felt the worst about humiliating his parents. The look in their eyes had shattered him. It was something he lived with every day. They hadn’t been aghast as much as accepting. Irresponsible Nick had struck again.

Not a day went by that he didn’t think about it and rue what he’d done. His mom and dad had stood by him, but told him he had to take responsibility for his actions. He was determined to go one better. He’d never be his older brother, Rourke—talk about a tough act to follow—but he’d finally figured out that being Nick didn’t mean landing himself in jail. And standing in Rourke’s shadow was something he could choose to do or not.

Although, in a fatalistic kind of way, he wondered if it wasn’t supposed to happen and play out the way it had. Rourke had met the woman of his dreams, the associate producer for the two reality shows he’d been on. Portia and Rourke were now happily married and Rourke had bonded like glue with his stepson. Maybe their paths would never have crossed if Nick hadn’t screwed up. And maybe Nick wouldn’t have grown up and figured out a lot about himself and life in general. One thing for sure, he was never going to get himself into another scrape that embarrassed his family and required Rourke to rescue him.

Nick knew he was lucky he hadn’t done jail time for his crime. Lance Gleeson had declined to press charges as long as the money was returned with interest. Nick was also eternally grateful that the women of the world didn’t seem to hold it against him, even though it was sort of weird that not only did they not mind, they almost seemed to like it.

“It’s gotten better. I think my fifteen minutes of infamy have passed.” The latest celebrity couple breakup and another headline proclaiming aliens had visited the White House, and he was yesterday’s news. Thank goodness.

“Yeah. In a whole month no one’s mobbed us when we’ve been out with Nicky,” Tim said. He was the peacemaker and the only married one in the group. He agreed with whomever was making a point at the time, whether it contradicted what he’d just said or not, a trait that went a long way with his wife, Marsha.

“Chicks have always dug him,” AJ said.

Nick shrugged. He liked women and they seemed to like him. It worked. AJ wasn’t a bad-looking guy and he made decent money as a site foreman for his father’s construction company, but he had an attitude problem that women picked up on. Chicks. “I’ve been trying to tell you for years, that’s your problem. They’re not chicks. They’re women. They know you think of them as chicks.”

“Man’s got a point,” Tim said, refilling his beer. Nick held out his empty mug and Tim did the honors. “Marsha says ‘chick’ is demeaning.”

AJ shook his head. “Nah. That’s not it at all.” AJ poured extra hot sauce on his wings. Nick had tried one of AJ’s wings several years ago. Personally, he thought there was a lot to be said for still being able to feel your tongue when eating. Nick picked up a mild drummette and bit into it while AJ rambled on. AJ was fond of the sound of his own voice. “Nicky’s addicted to women. They sense it and they want to provide his fix.”

What? AJ was—

“You’re full of it,” Matt said, dipping a carrot stick in blue-cheese dressing. Between carrying a few extra pounds and early male-pattern baldness, Matt definitely looked the oldest of the four, even though he was six months younger.