And Able. Lucy Monroe

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      “I’m not a possessive man.”

      “Um…define possessive.”

      Brett shook his head as if trying to clear it. “This is crazy. Why are we arguing? You want me and you’re not the kind of woman to play with two men at once.”

      “I don’t want to play with anyone.”

      “Not true. You want to play with me.”

      Claire opened her mouth to deny it, but he didn’t give her a chance. He kissed her instead, his lips molding hers, his tongue exploring her lips and the interior of her mouth with a thoroughness that made her tremble.

      When he lifted his mouth, they were both breathing hard.

      AND ABLE

      LUCYMONROE

      KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP. http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      For my sisters’ husbands, Paul, Tony, and Jason—three incredible men who stand shoulder to shoulder with my own gorgeous hubby in being real life heroes every day of their lives.

      Thank you all for what you add to our family and thank you Paul especially for being such a great big brother from the very beginning and such a super husband to my sister, showing me what I wanted in my own hubby when the time came and for caring enough to bring Tom into my life so I could have it.

      You are all my brothers, you are all my friends, and I thank God daily for every single one of you.

      Contents

      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

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 1

      Did death before dishonor cover the maid of honor sneaking out of the wedding reception?

      If it did, Claire Sharp’s honor was in danger of extermination and she was ready to pull the trigger. She simply could not stand another minute of the torture, not another second.

      Josette would understand…she hoped.

      Claire slunk stealthily into the hall outside the reception room of the classy downtown Portland hotel. There were people out here, too, but only hotel staff…no one from the wedding party. No one to see and notice her.

      She exhaled a sigh of relief as she cleared the room.

      “Did you need something, Miss Sharp?”

      She almost choked on her own breath. She could not believe it. Not out here…

      “Miss Sharp?”

      Tensing, she turned to find a black-clad waiter smiling at her inquiringly.

      Whose idea had it been to introduce the wedding party to the hotel staff? Probably Wolf’s. He was good at organizing things and had actually done a lot to help Claire’s best friend and former roommate, Josette, plan her wedding. Ex-mercenaries were a strange breed.

      Claire forced a smile for the waiter. “Um…no, just the…the…” Inspiration struck. “The restroom. I need the ladies’ room.”

      He pointed to a deserted-looking—Thank you, God—red-carpeted hallway behind her. “Just that way, Miss Sharp.”

      “Thank you.” And she scurried off as fast as she could, considering she was wearing the stiletto heels of death.

      Would it be considered rude for the maid of honor to change into jeans and tennies at the wedding reception? She’d never been to one before, much less played a participating role. But she was almost certain that protocol dictated she keep her glad rags on. Darn it.

      She just felt so exposed. The full skirt of the strapless, royal blue silk dress stopped four inches above her knees, and the back of the bodice, held together with thin velvet lacing tied in a very girlie bow right in the center of her back, dipped almost to her tailbone.

      Josette had insisted it was perfectly respectable, but Claire was not used to going without a bra, and her breasts weren’t exactly tiny. She felt like they jiggled every time she moved, and as the maid of honor, she ended up moving a lot. She’d worried it was going to be like this, but when Josette had asked her to wear both the dress and heels to be in the wedding, Claire had been unable to say no.

      Josette was not only her best friend, but other than the elderly residents at the nursing home where she worked, Josette was pretty much her only friend. At least, that counted.

      Josette had just married a man she loved and who adored her to distraction. Nitro thought she was everything a woman should be, which explained how Claire’s friend could hook up with such a predator type. Both Josette and Nitro were former mercenaries, but he was a lot more dangerous, to Claire’s way of thinking. The man oozed silent menace, but then so did his two closest friends, Wolf and Hotwire.

      Wolf, at least, was domesticated. He had married Lise the winter before and they were expecting their first baby. Claire often marveled at how well the often vague and very imaginative author of kick-butt women’s fiction got along with the ultra practical Wolf.

      Hotwire was still single and making it very clear to anyone who cared to listen that he intended to stay that way.

      No matter how attracted she was to him, Claire had no intention of trying to change his mind. However, something she’d said or done must have convinced him otherwise, because he had taken pains to let her know his stand on commitment.

      He probably felt the need because of the way she stared at him like a love struck teenager whenever he was around. She couldn’t seem to help herself, but it was so embarrassing…not to mention unexpected. She didn’t do love struck, starstruck, or any other kind of struck.

      Okay, sure, Hotwire had a body that rivaled Michelangelo’s David and a southern charm that had the other female guests looking ready to swoon. He was also an inveterate flirt, and his honeyed Georgia drawl made her feel like she would melt in a puddle right at his feet.

      Which was darn embarrassing, even if no one else knew about it.

      But the worst deal was that underneath all that devastating charm, he was every bit as dangerous and aggressive as Nitro. The kind of man a woman knew could keep her safe and who actively made the world a better place. For Claire, that was a lethal combination. She could probably file that reaction under protector-type-struck, which was only marginally better than love struck.

      He was so lethal, he made her feel downright lusty, and that took more doing than the whole protector-type-struck thing. A world-weary twenty-eight years old, she’d been around the block and back again and she did not do lust. It was a total waste of energy as far as she was concerned.

      But darned if when Hotwire got within ten feet of