Authors: Meg Benjamin
He narrowed his eyes. “So you’ve got a house of your own?”
Kit managed to ignore the clenching in her chest. “Looks like it. For a while anyway.”
He nodded slowly. “It’s a nice house. I wouldn’t mind living there. And I get a little salary boost with the assistant chief job. I can definitely cover the rent.”
She stared at him blankly. “You mean the two of us? Living together?” She felt another rush of terror and delight somewhere around her stomach.
“There or at the apartment,” he said slowly. “Or in a tent. Or in the backseat of a fifty-seven Mercury. I just want to be with you, Catarina, wherever you want.”
“Okay.” She ran her fingertips across his cheek. “I want that too. Aunt Allie’s would work. We’ll figure it out.”
He pulled her closer, one hand cupping the back of her head as he stared down at her. “I love you, Catarina. Now, then, always. Okay?”
She closed her eyes, turning her mouth up to his for a kiss. She tasted sweetness, spice, warmth. Nando. Her Nando. Now, then, always.
Yes.
For a moment, they clung together, arms wrapped tight. And then he pulled back again. “Okay?”
“Okay.” She smiled. “Very okay. The most okay thing that’s happened to me for at least the last month. Maybe ever.” She glanced back toward the terrace. More couples had moved outside to the grass now, dancing to the music that echoed softly through the French doors. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder again. “Maybe we should go back inside.”
He grimaced. “So you can be a wedding planner again?”
She smiled up at him, running her fingers along the side of his face. “No. So I can dance with you. And introduce you to my folks.”
He straightened. “Lead me to them.”
They walked slowly back toward the patio, his fingers interlaced with hers. The music sounded faintly from inside the restaurant. “Here,” he said, moving carefully across the lawn toward the edge of the terrace. “Dance with me.”
Inside, the DJ flipped on “You Don’t Know Me”.
Nando groaned. “I swear I didn’t request it.”
Kit rested her forehead on his shoulder for a moment. “Doesn’t matter. It no longer applies to us. I think I do know you now. I know you know me.”
He tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her closer until she looped her arms around him too.
“Just dance, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Just dance.”
About the Author
Meg Benjamin is the author of the Konigsburg series for Samhain Publishing:
Venus In Blue Jeans, Wedding Bell Blues, Be My Baby, Long Time Gone,
Brand New Me
, and now
Don’t Forget Me
. Meg lives in Colorado with her DH and two rather large Maine coon kitties (well, partly Maine coon anyway). Her Web site is
www.MegBenjamin.com
. You can follow her on Facebook (
www.facebook.com/meg.benjamin1
) and Twitter (
@megbenj1
). Meg loves to hear from readers—contact her at
[email protected]
.
Look for these titles by Meg Benjamin
Now Available:
Konigsburg, Texas
Venus in Blue Jeans
Wedding Bell Blues
Be My Baby
Long Time Gone
Brand New Me
If any man wants more than a dance with her, they’ll have to get past him…
Brand New Me
© 2010 Meg Benjamin
Konigsberg, Texas, Book 5
Deirdre Brandenburg has an MBA and a dream to become the coffee supplier for Konigsburg’s growing restaurant industry. What she doesn’t have is money, courtesy of her billionaire father’s scheme to make her come home. All she needs is three months until her trust fund kicks in. Until then, she needs a job.
Hiring the new girl next door is a no-brainer for ex-gambler Tom Ames. He’s already succeeded in making his bar, The Faro, a growing tourist draw. Deirdre’s beauty will pull in the locals—particularly every red-blooded male in the Hill Country. As he watches her transform from tentative business wonk to confident, sassy barmaid, he realizes he wants first crack at her heart.
When Big John Brandenburg sends Deirdre’s ex-boyfriend to drag her home, the plan backfires, leaving Tom’s bar in shambles and Deirdre kidnapped by a band of loony Texas secessionists.
Things are looking pretty bleak—except the good people of Konigsburg have no intention of giving Deirdre up, either. Even if it takes every Faro employee, every last Toleffson, and one cranky iguana to give the honky-tonk lovebirds a chance at forever.
Warning: Contains dirty dancing, hot summer sex, a honky-tonk makeover, and one nippy iguana.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Brand New Me:
A large part of the Saturday-night crowd stayed both inside and outside the Faro until the official closing time of two in the morning. Tom and Chico circulated among the remaining diehards, moving them relentlessly toward the door, while Deirdre and the other barmaids cleaned off tables and stacked glasses for Leon to run through the dishwasher. The empty bottles were tossed back into the cardboard cases, ready for recycling. All in all, it looked like a very successful night, at least as far as Deirdre could tell.
Part of her wanted to slip out the door before Tom noticed and head back to her apartment. After that dance, she wasn’t sure what she could say to him. More seriously, she wasn’t sure she could casually walk down the street beside him as if nothing had happened.
Apparently, from his point of view, nothing had. He was still acting the same way he always did, joking with Harry and Chico, listening to Sylvia’s complaints with a certain glazed patience, bagging up the most visible trash so that the restaurant could open at noon tomorrow, even though Leon didn’t come in until Sunday afternoon. For him, it seemed to have been a quick turn around the dance floor and then back to business. Nothing special.
Deirdre, on the other hand, felt as if her world had tipped on its axis. She wasn’t sure how long it would take her to return to an even keel, but she knew she wasn’t there yet. And walking anywhere alone with Tom Ames wasn’t likely to make that equalizing any easier. Finally, she leaned behind the bar and retrieved her purse, hoping she could get to the door while he was stacking chairs.
He was at her side in an instant. “Hang on a minute. I’m almost through.”
She thought about telling him she could walk herself home, as she’d told him every night, hoping this time he’d take her at her word. But she figured it was probably a lost cause. At this point telling him not to bother was more a formality than anything else.
Guts up, Deirdre. Time to put on your big girl panties.
“I’m walking Deirdre home,” he called to Chico, then started toward the door.
She caught a quick look at Sylvia’s face. Her eyes and mouth had narrowed as if she’d just tasted an unripe persimmon.
“Why don’t you or Chico walk Sylvia home?” she asked.
Tom blinked at her, then he shrugged. “She drives to work. I think she lives closer to Johnson City. Chico keeps an eye on the parking lot.”
Deirdre’s face felt warm in the darkness. Geez, shouldn’t she be too old to blush now? “Oh.”
Somewhere in the distance, the muffled roar of a motorcycle rumbled out of town, probably heading off toward one of the campgrounds back in the hills. Other than that, Main seemed more silent than usual, with everything closed down except a distant Stop and Go. Briefly, Deirdre pictured the streets outside her condo in Houston. She didn’t think she’d ever seen them empty, even at two a.m.
Different world, Deirdre.
Tom grinned lazily as they strolled up the street. “Another good night,” he mused, finally.
“Did we have more people than usual, or is that what you expected?”
“We’ve been building the audience for a while now, but this was the first weekend where we really had a sell-out, or close to it anyway. How’d you like the band?”
“They were very…” She searched for the word. “Eclectic, I guess.”
He chuckled. “They do a lot of different stuff. Classic bar band. Whatever the crowd’s looking for, they can deliver. At least they had the people up on the dance floor most of the night. Kept them thirsty.”
She nodded, trying to think of something—anything—to say that didn’t involve “
Volver
”
.
“You’re a good dancer,” she blurted. Apparently, her brain and her mouth weren’t currently on speaking terms.
He grinned down at her. “So are you.”
“No I’m not.” She blew out a breath. “I don’t really dance much. I never had the time. Or I didn’t. Maybe now I will.” She was once again profoundly grateful for the darkness that hid the fact that her face was flaming. Clearly, this was her night for idiocy.
“I hope so.”
She knew he was still smiling. She could hear it in his voice. Fortunately for both her sanity and her dignity, the door to her apartment was just ahead. “Well,” she murmured as she dug in her purse for her key, “thanks again.”
Tom took the key from her fingers and unlocked the door for her, then turned back. He stood between her and the open door, but she suddenly had no desire to ask him to move. She stared up at his face in the dim light. As he turned, the reflection from the streetlights caught tiny flecks of gold in his hair. He reached out slowly, smoothing an errant lock of her hair back behind her ear.
Almost without thinking, Deirdre shifted up on her toes, leaning toward him and ignoring the frenzied alarm bells clanging in her brain. Maybe it was time she tried making the first move for a change. Just because she’d never done it before didn’t mean she couldn’t do it now. She remembered the feel of his hand on her hip when they danced, the warmth that had spread across her body.
Just a taste. Just a touch. Nothing serious.
Her lips touched his, lightly, gently, almost as if she were afraid he might run.
She leaned closer, into the heat of his body. Running didn’t seem to be on his mind at the moment. She moved the tip of her tongue along his lower lip, tasting salt and warmth. He reminded her faintly of potato chips, and she felt almost like giggling. Her
bête noire.
She’d never been able to resist potato chips.
Her hands moved without her willing them, resting on his chest, her palms rubbing across the smooth fabric of his T-shirt, feeling the slight jut of his nipples underneath.
And then his arms locked around her waist, pulling her tighter against him. His mouth opened against hers and she answered him, sucking on his tongue as he pushed against her lips. Her head was spinning, and she wondered if she should take a breath. But she knew the spinning had nothing to do with breathing and everything to do with the heat that spread slowly from the point where their bodies met, the swell of his arousal and the throb of her own.
He angled his head, taking the kiss deeper, and she followed him, winding her arms around his neck now, pressing herself against him, feeling the heat and pressure and excitement building deep inside as she moved closer still. As she moved her hands up the back of his neck, feeling the prickle of short hair against her palms. As she pressed her body against his, shoulder to knee, her breasts flat against his chest. As she…
Oh my god. What am I doing?
Some hearts only want what they can’t have…
Headstrong
© 2011 Meg Maguire
Libby Prentiss is ready to simply be herself. After half a lifetime rebelling against her privileged family’s expectations, she hopes her biological research trip to New Zealand will cut the cord for good.
It doesn’t take long to spot the hopelessly amateurish spy her overprotective father has hired to keep an eye on her. Fortunately, Reece Nolan’s desperation to save his family’s pub makes it all too easy to convince him to turn double-agent. Yet there’s something different about him. His icy reserve sets her on fire…and ignites a secret yearning to let him see the mass of insecurities she hides behind her provocative persona.
Where Reece is a glacier of cool self-control, his brother Colin is a hot-blooded, unpredictable volcano. Libby’s instant friendship with Colin is more satisfying than anything she’s ever known—and traps her in completely foreign territory. She’s caught between one man determined to hold her at arm’s length, and another who offers her the intense connection she’s worked so hard to avoid.
Something’s got to give or the fallout could tear them all apart…and put the Nolan family’s future in serious jeopardy.
Warning: Contains an emotional love triangle guaranteed to launch your heart into your throat.