Page 1 of The Rough Ride

1

Nick Flannery tossed his towel aside and stepped into a serviceable pair of boxers, pausing to see if this latest scrubbing dulled the fire engine red ring on his johnson. His heart faltered. It was still bright as a vine-ripened, August tomato.

Damn that woman and her lipstick.

He’d stop at the pharmacy and buy a makeup remover because, sure as hell, his dick couldn’t take another rough washcloth lashing.

He muttered a curse, raised the boxers, and pulled on his suit pants. Why in the hell did she mark him like that? It was one thing to find a love bite on his abs, but quite another to be sporting a crimson O on his pecker. Shit.He shook his head.

He shrugged into a blue-striped dress shirt and worked the buttons. This situation was his own damn fault. Nobody’d forced him to scratch his itch with a bar honey on the prowl. This was what he got for allowing his libido out of the box. His temples throbbed every time he thought about his stupidity.What had come over him?What the hell had he been thinking?

It didn’t matter. He owned it. But he knew exactlywhohe’d been thinking about two nights ago when he acquired his scarlet letter.

Liz Nelson.

He’d worked with her a few weeks ago on a Sanctuary, Inc. rescue mission. The woman was a military analyst and a genius. But her refusal to acknowledge their close relationship during the mission confused the hell out of him.

She’d avoided him. Kept her distance. Shut down her computer and slipped away without saying goodbye at the end of the assignment. She’d left a business card with a P.O. address so they could mail a check.Seriously?

He and Liz had known each other for almost eleven years. She’d been his high school flame during his dark nights of family unrest and abuse. They’d been each other’s first. Best friends. Confidantes. Lovers.

She’d encouraged him to leave home as soon as he turned eighteen. And leave he did. Two days after his eighteenth birthday and three days before their senior prom. He’d had his diploma mailed to him and boarded a bus bound for boot camp. Liz had never thrown it in his face that she’d gone to her prom withthe girls.

He grabbed a subtle Swiss-dot tie and looped it around his neck. Ties were instruments of torture, but a day like today required one. First stop—a complete physical per the client’s request. Second stop—a lunch meeting with said client to go over details of the assignment after he passed the physical. Ever since his honorable discharge from the military three months ago, his fledgling security company depended on his ability to sell discreet professionalism anda team in top physical condition. Starting with him.Hoo-rah.

He stepped back and eyed the dress shirt-and-tie combination. They complimented each other well.

Liz would approve.

Just how many more years was he going to harbor a hard-on for Liz Nelson and care whether she approved? Their lives had crisscrossed for a decade, and each time, the slow burn in their relationship erupted into a roaring fire until the call of duty rudely doused the flames and flew them to separate time zones on the globe.

No other woman was like his Liz.

Fierce. Honest. Smart.

Nick strapped on his watch and slipped his bulky shoulders into the suit jacket. In the past, he and Liz had been in tune with each other. But that was before she saw combat in Iraq and returned home with a prosthetic foot. The Liz he’d seen a few weeks ago was still the same brilliant woman he’d always admired, but she was more reserved, kept to the shadows, and spoke softer.

She had a right to her feelings and her pain. During the fifteen months since Iraq, she’d been distant. Told him not to visit and insisted that he date other women. She wrote thank you cards for his frequent flowers, instead of calling or texting. His gut churned thinking about how a passion like theirs had reduced itself to texts.

And the one thought that plagued and scared him the most? Maybe she wasn’t interested in him anymore. That’s exactly how she’d acted the past few months.

She lived in Alexandria, Virginia with her mother and had a cushy cyber job with Homeland Security. Good for her. Seriously—she deserved the best of everything.

Sothat’swho he’d been thinking about when he’d accepted the proposition of the oh-so-willing bar honey. It was Liz’s sweet skin he’d imagined as he nibbled and kissed. And when he’d thrusted, it was Liz’s tight channel around his hard flesh. And when he came, it was Liz’s name he groaned in his head. But now that he thought about it, he wasn’t completely sure he hadn’t said her name out loud.

He stilled from attaching an ankle holster.Ugh. Damn.Did he say Liz’s name during a critical moment?Aww hell…he’d had a bunch of beers and couldn’t remember. If he did, that would certainly explain the lipstick tattoo.

He adjusted his tie again, slid into a pair of wingtips, clipped his Glock onto his belt and slipped a Magnum into his shoulder harness. Not that he needed the hardware at the doctor’s office, but the client would expect to see him armed to the hilt.

He wasn’t looking forward to dropping his drawers for a prostate check, but if the doctor had a good sense of humor, he might enjoy a laugh when he noticed the emblem on Nick’s member. Maybe the doc would even have a long-lasting lipstick remover for sensitive skin.

Nick could hope.

2

Liz opened the package of chocolate sandwich cookies, dunked one in her fresh mug of decaf espresso and savored the flavors as she chewed. Her body hummed with satisfaction. It was mid-afternoon, and she’d caught herself nodding off at the computer screen. The sweet treats would propel her to quitting time.

She reached for a third cookie, reconsidered her strategy, and fumbled around the top drawer of her desk for the bottle of all-natural energy she kept for emergencies.Got it.She poured half into her coffee and put the cookies away. In a little while, the B vitamins would kick in and this afternoon slump would be a memory.

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