A page turner in every sense…

Jenna Sinclair is hot on the trail of some scandalous diaries. The secret sexual exploits they document are truly explosive. When Jenna’s last chance at locating them turns out to be Sam Winchester’s ranch, she has to seduce her way inside. Sam is surprised by but falls for the incredibly hot woman hook, line and sinker. She’s a tight package that he longs to unwrap. He boldly tells the darling diva it can be any way she wants it.

When Sam catches Jenna snooping not once but twice, she realizes she’ll have to act on Sam’s offer—telling him exactly how she want it…with him, right now! Like a scene lifted from the diaries, the passion they share borders on the unthinkable. But when Jenna discovers things aren’t as they seem, will she have lost more than just the diva diaries?

Harlequin Blaze | ISBN 0373790783 | December 2003 | BUY IT HERE

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READ AN EXCERPT

“Sam, are you in here?” The loft planking squeaked and hay and dirt rained down.

When he came into view, he was naked from the waist up except for a blue bandanna tied around his strong throat. His dark hair lay thick and wet against the back of his neck.

The black Stetson sat on his head, she presumed to keep the hair off his face, the brim pulled down so that his intense eyes were in shadow. Shadow that kissed the sleek line of his bare arms and pooled in the hollow of his throat like rich dark chocolate, tempting decadence.

All that was visible was the dark stubble on his cheeks and chin, which only accentuated his fine, chiseled lips and slashing cheekbones. Well-used brown leather gloves covered his hands for protection.

Her words dried up. She was struck dumb and all she could do was stare. She watched as a trickle of perspiration slid down his chest, over the taut muscles of his stomach to soak into the already wet waistband of his jeans. Jenna licked her lips, almost able to taste the sleek saltiness of his skin.

He crouched and lowered his voice. “What’s the matter, darlin’? Cat got your tongue?”

She watched the soft, beaten denim stretch and remembered the heavy muscles of Sam’s thighs as he straddled her the night before. Her mouth went dry. Her voice came out hoarse. “No. Just got a little bit of dust in my eyes.”

She was staring, but she couldn’t help it as her eyes roamed over the sleekness of his chest.

He hesitated, his dark eyes flashing in the semi-darkness of the barn.

Sam put his hands on the edge of the loft planking. With a deft, twisting movement, he swung his body off the lip and let himself drop down to the soft hay below, landing securely on his black-booted feet.

He strode towards her, stopping inches from her. Heat radiated off him. The smell of leather, soap, hard work, and male was a heady combination.

His eyes caressed her face and she knew that her desire for him was written there. So easy for him to read.

He stripped off the gloves and moved close to her. “Let me see that dust.”

He stuck the gloves in his back pocket and leaned even closer. Instinctively she reached out to steady herself and her hand came into contact with his wide chest. His breathing quickened as he peered into her eyes. His hands came up to her face and she flinched suddenly.

“Steady,” he murmured in a soft, coaxing voice he probably used on his horses and longhorns. His hands were rough and callused from hard work. How could they be so gentle? Jenna ached with the comfort of his hand on her face, with the warmth of his breath on her forehead, stirring the fine hair at her hairline. She could feel the steady strength of his heartbeat beneath her hand where it lay against moist, hard flesh.

He frowned slightly and said, “They look fine to me. You telling me stories?”

She gulped, desperate for composure, knowing she wasn’t going to find it with him standing so close. “Okay, I lied. I was a little taken aback by your lack of attire. You don’t see many males running around like that in New York.”

“My lack of. . .well shoot. Does it bother your delicate sensibilities?”

“No.”

“No? So it doesn’t bother you?”

“Yes.”

“It does.”

“Not really. . .Sam, you’re confusing me.” She closed her eyes hoping, praying for composure.

He smiled and stepped closer. “Want me to put on a shirt?”

“No. . .I mean yes.”

He crowded against her. “What is it? Yes or no?”

“You are exasperating. Your body doesn’t offend me.” She took a deep breath. “I came down here because I thought you might be hungry and Maria’s about to serve.”

“I know all about hunger, Jenna. The kind that burns in my gut every time you look at me like you’re looking at me right now.”

Jenna, feeling trapped, tried to act indignant. “You must be going soft in the head, if you think….”

Her words died as he slipped his arm around her waist, his forearm tightening against her lower back. Dragging in a ragged breath, he pulled her against him. “Darlin’, there isn’t anything soft about me right now.”

His hot mouth came down on hers. He was right. Everything about him was hard, his muscles, his demanding mouth, his grim determination, and the part of him that was pressed tightly to her.

His lips were like warm, moist velvet. She shivered and groaned as his hot mouth closed over hers so seductively gentle that she leaned into him, heedless of involving her heart, heedless of the consequences. Heedless of her own doubts, her arms went around his neck, knocking the Stetson to the barn floor. Her hands cupped the back of his head, delving into the damp raw silk of his hair. With a soft growl in his throat, he deepened the kiss, his tongue darting into her mouth like a hungry velvet flame that burned so hotly, yet so sweetly.

Sam pulled away. He closed his eyes, his face belying the struggle he waged within himself. His body shook beneath her hands, evidence of the powerful emotions that were locked inside him.

Gently she touched his face. His eyes opened, and the vulnerability she saw there made her heart ache. This Sam scared her. She liked it better when he used that slow-simmering cowboy charm on her. This open, yearning Sam was alarming and, she had to admit, thrilling.

For a full minute, he looked down into her face. His free hand came up and he pressed his thumb along her bottom lip. Jenna groaned, her head falling back. She let out a long sigh when he traced the upper one.

“Ever done it in the hay?” he whispered. Cupping her face in his hands, he lowered his lips, barely touching her mouth, teasing and tantalizing her with wispy, nipping bites and a soft brushing. Her breathing quickened when his tongue snaked out and touched her mouth. He tasted rich, dark and forbidden. Without any further urging from her, he once again closed his hungry mouth over hers.

Her knees buckled and he caught her around the waist, dragging her against his hard body. “Now, darlin’?” he murmured, “How about now?”

She didn’t have time to respond as his mouth closed over hers again. It was a shock to her that hunger could be so luscious. That domination could taste so sweet. He brushed her lips lightly, a soft, slow slide, his mouth as gentle as the kiss of morning dew. His hand twined into her hair, lifted a strand and let it cascade through his fingers. His eyes lit from within by an intense, tangible fire. And then he stopped playing games and plundered her mouth, bruised with a fervor that astounded Jenna to the depths of her soul, that ignited a hot flood of desire Jenna never recognized she possessed. She met him, succumbed to him, danced with him in a honeyed waltz of desire and need.

Jenna dissolved into his sizzling touch, into his heady scent and harsh moans. His mouth moved over her as if he couldn’t get enough and she offered her own sigh of surprise. Heat scorched from his fingertips and crackled from his mouth. Fascination coalesced to craving, sweeping away resistance. Jenna arched against him, her breasts aching for the brush of him. She tortured her own fingers with the silky mantle of his hair and partnered her tongue with his. And when she felt his hand drop to cup her breast, she knew that this was what her grandmother had been talking about.

Passion.

She burned with it like an incandescent flame. She knew that if she didn’t grab this time with Sam, she might never find this perfect harmony, this intense meshing ever again.

He cradled her against the sleek, tough contours of his chest.

He pulled his mouth away from hers, his breathing ragged, his eyes dilated. She was struck by how thick and long his eyelashes were. His dark, hungry gaze bored into her.

From the book: The Diva Diaries
By: Karen Anders
Imprint and Series: Harlequin Blaze
Publication Date: 02/03
ISBN: 0-373-79078-3
Copyright ©: 2003
By Karen Alarie

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