A florist and a mercenary...
Clint's a mercenary, looking for a little R and R when his cousin begs him to rescue her best friend, and kidnapped victim, Sarah. Mistaken identity has her being held prisoner on an island off the coast of Florida. Rescue should be a piece of cake, right? Until Clint meets the feisty stubborn female with the killer curves. Before long they're racing to the other side of the island and an arranged rescue. But it doesn't take him long before he realizes that he's the one who needs rescuing!
Excerpt - Tired of her smart mouth, Clint reacted without thinking, spinning around so fast Sarah jumped back with a startled gasp. He reached for her and jerked her up against him until they were suddenly nose to nose. Her eyes widened with alarm, meeting his easily in the darkness. “You don’t have to worry about whether I’m fucking good or not. I’m very good at everything I do. You’ll want to keep that in mind the next three days. When I tell you to do something, you do it…got it?”
They were so close he could feel her warm breath against his face. Clint couldn’t see her expression, but he could tell by her tone she wasn’t happy. “Who do you think you are, bossing me around like I don’t have a brain in my head?”
“Just in case you still haven’t figured it out, I’m a mercenary. I hire my services out to the biggest purse,” he explained, catching her small gasp before she drew herself up.
“I don’t care what you are. You’re in for a big surprise if you think I’m just going to follow you around like a little puppy and meekly jump at every command.”
“Do you know where you’re going?” he questioned softly. “No but…” “Do you know how to get off the island?” he continued in the same tone of voice.
“No but…”
“Then I suggest you let me do my fucking job, lady,” he growled, fighting the urge to shake some sense into her. He knew what he had to do to get them off the island alive, but if she defied him at every turn they were in for a rough three days. Warning bells went off when she suddenly relaxed against him.
“Yes, sir.” Her voice was as soft and sweet as a southern belle.
Clint frowned, wondering what she was up to. Her submissive response had a definite undercurrent of grit and steel, something he would normally admire if the circumstances were different. Not now when so much was at stake. He hoped for her sake she knew the importance of following an order when the time came.
“Do you mind letting go now?” She tried to break away gently, but Clint refused to release her, still trying to figure her out. When she jerked her arms a second time, he tightened his grip even more. Then, without warning, she pulled her leg back and kicked him.
“Ouch!” He released her immediately, reaching down to rub his shin, angry with himself for not seeing it coming. “You little bitch!”
Rubbing her arms Sarah made a sound with her lips warning him to be quiet. “You want them to hear you?”
He glared at her in annoyed silence.
“Honestly, you’re supposed to be the expert, and here you are making enough racket to wake the dead.” She moved off in the direction they’d been going.
Clint let her go, only because he knew if he put his hands on her now he’d probably strangle her. And he hadn’t gone to all the trouble of rescuing her just to kill her. Damn her, he knew she was going to be trouble. And if that wasn’t bad enough, there was something about her that was having a powerful effect on his libido. Susan owed him big time.
He let out a curse, hearing her movements in front of him. Talk about waking the dead— she was thrashing through the brush like a wounded elephant. He shook his head, his mouth fixed in a grim line as took off after her, wishing fervently that he hadn’t given up smoking. He had a feeling before it was all over she was going to push him back into a lot of his old habits.
