Strapless. Leigh Riker

Maybe, after Merrick, it was enough. She stared at him, her bout of nausea forgotten, then stared some more.

      To her utter disgust, fresh, fierce desire snaked through her. He followed her inspection with his eyes.

      “See something you like? Again?”

      Darcie gave in. What the hell. An ounce of Scope and she’d be good as new.

      Almost.

      Rising, she swished out her mouth then crossed the room to him on shaky limbs. You’re history, Merrick Lowell. If she didn’t make love again until the next half of the twenty-first century, she would darn well make some memories with this Australian sheep rancher to tide her over. She looped her arms around his neck to whisper in his ear.

      “Hi. I’m Darcie Baxter. And you are…?”