Wolfe Jackson is hot on the trail of a domestic terroristic who has been causing havoc and panic by blowing up factories. The trail, although sketchy, has led to a convention in the Midwest. Is it a false trail? Wolfe is unsure, but he knows that a certain blonde named Krista bears investigating.
Krista Harlow finds her life as a principal dull. So bland in fact, she thinks attending the annual principal conference might enliven it. She even harbors secret romantic aspirations. As a principal, she must keep everything strait laced and buttoned down, but that was before she was mistaken for a corporate saboteur and possible murderer.
Wolfe initially approaches the suspect by pretending he knows her. Krista plays along, proving she's either devilishly clever or she's really interested in him as a man. The road to restore his credibility is full of dangerous curves.
Her sister snatched up the dress Krista had on when Wolfe started making love to her in the middle of the bookstore. Krista watched as her sister held the dress up to her face, sniffed, and looked over at her sister with a grin.
“I smell him on the dress.” She draped the dress over her petite form and swirled out of reach. “I think I’ll call this your ‘get lucky’ dress. Can I borrow it?”
“As if.” She held her hand out for the dress.
“I’m betting it’s dry clean only.”
Krista put the dress aside, determined not to wash it if Wolfe’s scent still lingered. Maybe she’d put it in a plastic bag to preserve the scent. Bring it out when she wanted to remember a time when her life wasn’t predictable. Pathetic.
“So is Mr. Mysterious going to drop by for a visit?”
Krista continued to paw through her suitcase to find Natalie’s souvenir T-shirt. It read Somebody Went to Columbus and All I Got Was a Stinking T-shirt. It also gave her a convenient excuse to ignore her sister’s question
“Is he coming by and you’re not telling me? Or was it just one of those lust-crazed one-night-stand kind of things?” Natalie asked.
Krista had it with her sister’s questions. They were hitting too close to home.
There would be no Mr. Mysterious dropping by. She heard her sister’s gasp and spoke before she even turned.
“Okay—it was a mindless physical thing. He looked like an ad for Bad Boys, Inc. I couldn’t help myself. I ripped his clothes off and had animalistic sex with him. Are you happy now?”
“That’s not how I remember it,” a male voice drawled with a hint of laughter.
Krista was afraid to move. Natalie edged up beside her and tugged on her arm as if she didn’t know someone stood in the door.
She turned slowly, not daring to breathe. She wanted him to be there, but what was she going to do if he was? The sunlight behind silhouetted him. Krista didn’t need to see his face. Her body knew him. Her heart sped up, her temperature skyrocketed, and her sister pawed through Krista’s purse.
“What are you doing?” Krista inquired, her eyes never leaving Wolfe.
“I thought I’d take the sports car for a drive, so you guys could have some privacy. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.” She located the keys, tossed a smile at Wolfe and fled.
“Remember, it’s a rental,” Krista yelled after her departing sister.
“Your sister?” Wolfe inquired.
“Yep, the one and only Natalie.” She threw out her hands up, not knowing what else to say.
Wolfe stepped into the room, no longer backlit by the sun. “I like her. She says what she thinks.”
“That’s her.” Krista stuck her hands in her jeans pocket and fingered the earring.
“So, does her sister say what she thinks?” Wolfe drifted closer, putting an arm on each side of her, caging her against the table.
She definitely wouldn’t have to resort to sniffing her dress. The smell of slightly sweat-dampened male, along with a whiff of sandalwood cologne and the musky aroma of his arousal fogged her senses. The edge of the wooden table cut into her hips.
“So let’s talk about you ripping my clothes off and the animalistic sex.”
Morgan K Wyatt, raised on a steady diet of superheroes, believed she could fly at a very young age. After using trees, barn lofts, sliding boards, and even a second story window as launch pads, she found her flying skills were limited to fast and downward. By the age of nine, her dreams to be a superhero needed some modifications, which caused her to turn to writing and horseback riding as alternatives to flying.
At the age of twenty, she had another chance at superhero greatness as being one of the few female soldiers trained for combat. The fact that women will be able to serve in combat soon indicates that all the witnesses to the grenade incident have retired. The grenade incident didn’t prevent her two sons or daughter-in-law from enlisting in the service. Having different last names probably helped.
Morgan recently retired from teaching special needs students to write fulltime, instead of in the wee hours of the night. With the help of her helpful husband and loyal hound, she creates characters who often grab plot lines and run with them. As for flying, she prefers the airlines now.
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