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Lightning Strikes
Colleen Collins
THE RIGHT BEDThe first time Blaine Saunders spies the antique brass bed, she has to have it. Practical in every other way, she's suddenly discovered a weakness for sensuous beds where dreams come true.THE WRONG ADDRESSBut the chances of her beautiful bed being delivered to the wrong address twice are about the same as lightning striking twice. Who knew that could happen? Tracking down the elusive bed is exhausting. So when she finally finds it in a stranger's apartment, she's sure no one will notice if she has a quick nap….THE RIGHT MAN!Where is his bed? When Donovan Roy arrives home late one night, the last thing he expects to find is a different bed…complete with a sleeping beauty! And in a white-hot flash of shared passion, he knows he'll do anything to keep her…and the bed.
Blaine wanted Donovan
More than ever, she wanted to make love to him. Fiery, passionate love. The kind that burned away all petty worries. She stared at his profile, wondering how to approach him.
“It’s getting awfully hot in here,” she whispered.
He looked around the room for a thermostat. “Want me to turn down the—” He broke off, as if he suddenly realized she wasn’t talking about the temperature. “Well…what do you want?”
Blaine shifted in her seat. Outside, the rush of rain and wind sounded like someone whispering, “Lovers.”
Lovers. The thought thrilled her.
“What do I want?” To show him, she pressed her lips against his neck, taking tiny, nibbling bites. Emboldened by her fired-up libido and his sharp intake of breath, she leaned close to his ear and whispered, “I want to devour you.”
Dear Reader,
A year ago, my editor visited me in Colorado. We took a day trip to Manitou Springs, a lovely town nestled in the foothills of Pikes Peak, and we were talking about my writing a WRONG BED book. At that moment we walked past an old antique store with the most beautiful, ornate brass bed in the window and my editor pointed at it and said, “There’s your Wrong Bed story.”
And that’s the moment Lightning Strikes began taking shape in my mind. The story opens when Blaine Saunders, down on her luck and out taking a mind-cleansing stroll, is lulled into a store by a sensuously magical brass bed in the window. And on a whim, practical Blaine has a spontaneous moment and buys the bed!
That’s just the beginning of more spontaneous moments in Blaine’s life—moments filled with fun, sensuality and some steamy adventures with a dark, handsome stranger who falls into her life, and into that brass bed….
I invite you to visit my Web site, www.colleencollins.net, where you can read about my upcoming Temptation novels, enter contests and more.
Enjoy Lightning Strikes! And like the heroine in the story, do something fun and sensual for yourself on a whim….
Best wishes,
Colleen Collins
Books by Colleen Collins
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
867—JOYRIDE
899—TONGUE-TIED
HARLEQUIN DUETS
10—MARRIED AFTER BREAKFAST
22—ROUGH AND RUGGED
30—IN BED WITH THE PIRATE
39—SHE’S GOT MAIL!
Lightning Strikes
Colleen Collins
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
I’d like to dedicate this book to the Common Grounds coffee shop in Denver where I’ve sipped many lattes and written many romances. And thanks to my great friends in Denver with whom I shared lots of laughter and good times. John and Ralph, save a chair for me at the “Little Bear.”
And thank you to my editor, Wanda Ottewell, for her ongoing encouragement and support.
Contents
Chapter 1 (#u773720ab-49b2-54e1-ab68-cae5494d71ae)
Chapter 2 (#u75ec44dc-79cb-5d16-9552-92ef163d5cd1)
Chapter 3 (#uaf5e49e3-eaf9-5e03-a68f-bf2cc148ae0c)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
1
BLAINE SAUNDERS GLIDED her fingers along the cylindrical metal and closed her hand tightly around it, loving its hard, smooth texture. Then she sucked in a gasp of air and sneezed.
Damn allergies. Still gripping the section of metal on the brass headboard, Blaine stuffed her other hand into her pants pocket and withdrew one of the always-present tissues she kept handy this time of year. Just a few minutes ago, she’d sneezed her head off outside the Spice of Life coffee shop, one of her fav haunts in Manitou Springs. But then, almost everywhere in Manitou was a fav haunt—what wasn’t to like about a picturesque mountain community filled with quaint shops and winding streets nestled at the base of Colorado’s Pikes Peak?
But when summer hit, the temperatures spiked and the afternoon thunderstorms rolled in, changing the cozy little town into a bowl of pollen.
She blew her nose. June should be declared Pollen Month.
Tucking away the tissue, Blaine brushed her fingers along the glistening headboard and imagined how pleasurable it would be to sleep in this beauty every single night. She leaned closer, catching her reflection in its polished surface. The shimmering metallic image gave her big green eyes and shoulder-length auburn hair a magical allure she never felt in everyday life. If she held her head a little higher, her gold-tinged reflection looked almost like Liv Tyler in Lord of the Rings.
Blaine sighed deeply. Then coughed. Damn allergies.
Dabbing the tissue at her nose, she stroked her finger in a lazy path along a metallic curve, enjoying the streak of moisture left from her hot skin making contact with the cool metal. So cool. So hot outside. Would anyone notice if I pressed my hot face against this cool metal?
She looked around. Jerome, the store owner, stood by a window, his hair glinting silver in a stream of sunlight, where he fastidiously dusted off an antique cabinet. But no one else was around. Great. She leaned over and pressed her forehead, then her cheek, against the sleek metal.
Ahhhhhh.
This had to be better than sticking her face in front of a fan, which she’d been doing back at her office all morning long. Especially after David called to announce he was engaged to another girl, although the fan didn’t, unfortunately, blow away her disappointment. So she’d reminded herself that four months of Thursday-night dates didn’t necessarily equate to ever-after.
For David, it didn’t equate to exclusivity either, it appeared.
But for Blaine, it had been a close-enough, sorta-boyfriend situation that she’d suggested they take a romantic Alaskan cruise, a dream she’d nursed since grammar school when she’d written a report on the northern lights. When David agreed, Blaine had exuberantly spent her income tax return on a cruise ticket. Which she’d been on her way to get a cash refund for when this beguiling bed had snagged her attention.
She pressed her cheek harder against the metal, loving its sleek, cool texture. If only men were like this. Stable, reassuring, cool when it was hot outside…hot when it was cool inside…
“Blaine, dear, are you all right?”
Blaine, her cheek still pressed to the section of brass bed, shifted her gaze. Jerome stood stiffly next to her, his gray, cookie-duster mustache twitching. His gaze darted to the metal pressed to her cheek, then back to her eyes.
“I’m fine,” she murmured, easing ever so casually to a standing position, hoping she didn’t have a cylindrical indent on her cheek. Jerome’s cologne, which always smelled like spicy orchids to her, traced the air.
“Still haven’t fixed your air-conditioning?”
“When my accounts pay up, I might.”
In the moment of silence that followed, Blaine knew that Jerome knew exactly what she was talking about. Several months ago, Jerome had hired Blaine to organize an estate sale, for which he had yet to pay. As owner of the Blaine Saunders Temporary Agency, she normally brokered temporary personnel for others—anything from accounting to technical writing—but because Jerome had been an old friend of her mother’s, Blaine had taken on management of the estate sale herself.
Then, the economy took a surprising nosedive. Businesses started cutting back on everything from office supplies to employee head count. The latter hit Blaine’s business hard because before a company reduced its own employee base, it eliminated all workers contracted through outside agencies. Which was, unfortunately exactly what the Blaine Saunders Temporary Agency specialized in—contracting workers, from secretaries to database specialists, to businesses.
Almost overnight, she lost three-fourths of her contracts with local corporations. To make ends meet, Blaine had moved out of her condo and rented a small room in someone’s house. And she applied for a small-business loan, which she’d hear soon if the bank approved or not. She’d also requested her outstanding accounts to please pay up, but when Jerome had pleaded tight finances, she’d told him to pay when convenient.
Which made her feel a tad guilty for her quick retort, but if Jerome wanted to mention her not being able to fix things, well…
He glanced around his shop, then leaned forward slightly. “You’re second on my list,” he said under his breath. “Right after I pay Ralph.”
“Ralph?” She thought she knew everyone in Manitou Springs.
“He delivers the antiques to my customers.” Straightening, Jerome raised his voice. “Heard your father’s working with you.”
When the economy faltered, her dad had volunteered to help Blaine out at the agency. Having let go of her part-time assistant, Blaine had appreciated her dad’s offer. Plus, she knew he welcomed a respite from spending the bulk of his retirement years parked in front of a TV.
“Yes, he’s having a wonderful time playing receptionist,” Blaine said. And a wonderful time playing matchmaker, or trying to. She had yet to tell him about David getting engaged to another woman…Blaine felt bad, yes, but she knew her father would be downright devastated.
A slightly crooked lamp shade caught Jerome’s eye. “Also heard your sister’s getting married.” He reached for the shade and leveled it with a flick of his fingertips.
Sonja, Blaine’s kid sister, had always been one for surprises. Her most recent being her news that she planned to elope in a week with a cadet who’d just graduated from the prestigious Air Force Academy in nearby Colorado Springs. Their dad, after darn near kissing the ground, had convinced Sonja to at least have a small ceremony in town, claiming it’s what her dearly departed mother would have wanted.
“Yes, she’s getting married,” Blaine affirmed, realizing Jerome had successfully steered the conversation away from his debt. “Mom would have been so proud.”
Ever since they had lost her to cancer fifteen years ago, Blaine had been a surrogate mom to Sonja. Which hadn’t been bad because practical, tomboyish Blaine got to live out all the fun girly stuff through her popular sister Sonja.
Jerome’s voice interrupted Blaine’s thoughts. “It’s a beautiful bed, isn’t it?”
Blaine eyed the glistening brass beauty that had lured her into Jerome’s shop. “It’s gorgeous,” she whispered, her fingers playing along one of the shiny cylinders that curled seductively in the headboard. She tried to imagine the bed in the cramped room she was renting, but realized there was no way this exquisite object could even begin to fit in the door, much less the room.
Jerome touched a veined hand to the brass knob that topped one of the four posters of the bed. “Just received it yesterday,” he said, the pride evident in his voice. “We’ve already had an offer.”
“An offer?” Blaine’s fingers tightened possessively on a bend of metal.
“Yes.” Jerome lifted the price tag, a square red label that dangled from a section of brass. “They said they’d return today, by noon. I’m hoping they want to at least make a down payment…”
By noon? She jerked her head to her wrist and checked the time. Eleven fifty-five. “They can’t!” she blurted.
Jerome cocked one white eyebrow. “Blaine, I do believe the heat’s gotten to you. You never raise your voice.”
“When it’s important, I do.” And suddenly, this bed was very, very important.
“And what’s so important about this bed?”
Because it symbolizes everything I’m not, and everything I’ve secretly desired—passion, fantasy, forbidden indulgences. “Because…it’d be a perfect wedding gift for Sonja.” That sounded better than to admit she coveted it. But on second thought, she realized it would be perfect for Sonja and her husband-to-be.
“Is Sonja’s betrothed going to buy it?”
Blaine pursed her lips. Hardly. Sonja’s fiancé, Rudy, was on a squeaky-tight budget.
“No,” she answered, tilting her head to see the price on that red tag. She blinked at the string of numbers, and comma. Two-thousand-plus dollars. Hoo-boy. Even though, after cashing in her cruise ticket, she’d have double that much, she didn’t need to splurge half of it on a bed.
The slam of a car door distracted Blaine.
A pleased expression crossed Jerome’s face as he peered out the plate glass window. “Ah, there they are now.”
Blaine glanced out the window. A couple who looked to be in their forties were getting out of one of those ritzy sports cars. They looked supercoiffed, as though they never wrinkled or sweated. As they headed across the street toward the antique shop, Blaine wondered if they always sauntered as though they didn’t have a care in the world. And more, what it felt like to not have any worries or cares.
The couple entered the shop, eyed Jerome, and waved a greeting. “We wanted to look at it one more time,” the woman called out in a singsong voice.
Blaine tightened her grip.
The couple approached the bed, then walked slowly around it, inspecting it.
“It’s a bit high,” the woman murmured.
Thanks to the rose scent from the woman’s perfume, Jerome’s exotic-orchid scent and the world of pollen, it took all of Blaine’s willpower to not explode a sneeze that could move this bed to the next county. She had to be alert, pay attention. The bed was at stake.
“The height has an advantage,” commented Jerome, folding his hands neatly on top of each other. “You can store things underneath, saving room in the bedroom.”
The woman arched one unnaturally blond eyebrow. “And the brass…the color isn’t uniform.”
“It’s an antique,” Jerome explained. “It’s aged with time, like a fine wine.”
