Cat Johnson's Blog - Posts Tagged "ibooks"

Words from Saved by a SEAL #HotSEALs by Cat Johnson

The fabric of the rich blue dress was soft beneath his fingers, but he knew her skin would be even softer. He'd get to that part. Soon. Now, he needed to kiss her, so he did. Raising his hands to her face, he took possession of her lips in a hard, deep kiss. He meant it to let her know this could lead to one thing and one thing only-him inside her.

She must have had the same idea. As he kissed her, stroking his tongue against hers, he felt her unbuttoning his shirt. She ran her hands over the bare skin of his chest and groaned.

Happy she liked what she felt, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted, carrying her across the room as she wrapped her legs around his back, all while they remained locked at the lips. He felt the spiked heels of her boots against his back.

Damn, that was hot. He'd be leaving her boots on for a little while after the dress came off.

http://catjohnson.net/book/saved-by-a...

Saved By A SEAL

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, his brown gaze on hers.
“Just getting myself a water, but thanks.” She shot him a half-hearted smile and went back to her stalking of the bartender.
“Um, look, here’s the deal. I don’t want to bother you but my friends dared me to come over and talk to you. If I didn’t do it, I would have never heard the end of it from them so I had to. I’m sorry.”
Intrigued by his confession, Mary Elizabeth turned to face him. “They dared you just to talk to me?”
Adorably, he dropped his gaze as if embarrassed before bringing it back up to meet hers. “Actually, they dared me to do a little more than just talk.”
“How much more?”
He hesitated and then sighed. “Tompkins wanted to actually see me kiss you, right here in the bar, but I told him no go. Fitz convinced him that if I got your number it should be good enough.”
The depth of detail in his story, on top of his real or possibly fake shame at having to admit it, was intriguing.
She laughed. “Either you’re the most honest man in this place, or this is your attempt at appearing that way just to pick me up. I can’t decide.”
He lifted a brow. “I’m not really sure what to do to convince you either way.”
She extended her hand as an idea struck. “Mary Elizabeth Smith.”
“Craig Dawson.” He laughed as he shook her hand. “And I have to tell you that Mary Smith is possibly the worst fake name I’ve ever heard.”
Now it was her turn to raise a brow at him. “Sorry, but believe it or not it’s actually my name. I was named after my two grandmothers, Mary and Elizabeth.”
She didn’t miss how he was still holding her hand in his as he nodded and said, “I believe you.”
“Do you?” she asked.
“Yup. The addition of the backstory about your grandmothers makes all the difference.” He grinned.
“Good. And I think I believe your story too, Craig Dawson.” Believe him or not, the handholding was becoming ridiculous. Mary Elizabeth disengaged herself from his grip.
He let her go, but didn’t move away. “That’s good to hear. So what do we do now?”
If they’d met at a time in her life when she wasn’t broken, and if he had been another decade older, and if he was flirting with her at somewhere besides a casino bar on a dare, she might have been interested in this man. But as it stood, there were way too many points against them.
The circumstances might be completely wrong, but there was still no reason why they couldn’t help each other out of a sticky situation, which was exactly what her stroke of brilliance was about.
She had a plan.
Mary Elizabeth was more than ready to go home but her friends weren’t going to let her leave—unless she left with this guy. She might be crazy, but she was going to do it. Ask him to help her if she helped him.
Without further thought that might have made her change her mind, she said, “How would you feel about helping me out with something in exchange for me helping you with your friends?”
He tipped his head. “I think I might be interested in learning more.”

Lit by her headlights, a figure climbed down from the high vehicle. Big and tall, he raised his hand and tipped his brown felt cowboy hat down so it shielded his eyes from the glare.

Her heart picked up speed but she wasn't sure if it was from fear, or the fact that this man, by all appearances a real-live walking talking cowboy, was coming right at her. In boots and worn faded jeans, with a jacket opened to reveal a blue shirt, he kind of swaggered, which only added to the whole cowboy look of him. As did the black and white dog that leapt from the vehicle and, tail wagging, trailed along at his heels.

He reached the side of the car and, hands shoved into his front jean's pockets, he leaned down to peer into the window. "You lost?"

Just the deep timber of those two words, spoken with the drawl of a true cowboy, cut directly through her. Casey could barely breathe. This man was the personification of her first childhood love-Cowboy Cody and the Cowboy Code.

"Um, I didn't think so when I saw the sign, but now I've been driving for so long I'm afraid I might be and the GPS is no help. It doesn't even recognize the road and my cell won't work." Compared to this man of few words, her longwinded answer sounded ridiculous. He probably thought she was some kind of idiot.

Her cowboy savior rubbed his thumb and forefinger over the closely cropped beard on his chin. "Well, tell me where you need to get to. Maybe I can help."

"I'm trying to get to the Maverick ranch. They're expecting me."

Beneath the brim of his hat, his eyebrows rose sharply. "You're Casey Harrington?"

Cowboy Blue
by Cat Johnson