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Solo St. John, a wildlife photographer, is preparing for a trip to Alaska. Suddenly, Solo finds women of all sorts invading his privacy, his home and his office, all cooing nonsense words and blatantly throwing themselves at him. Solo doesn't know why, and he has no idea how to rid himself of the persistent women. He finally decides to beg a favor of his best buddy Nyssa Harrington.
In love with Solo for the past ten years and knowing he doesn't return her feelings Nyssa doesn't want to talk to Solo. She knows if she accepts his phone call, she will not be able to resist the temptation to hope again.
Christine Young writing as Ann Christine
Excerpt Heat Level: 2
Book Heat Level: 2
Buy at: www.roguephoenixpress.com
Wanted: A professional wildlife photographer to take pictures in the Alaskan wilderness. Experience first hand a real safari moon. Call(555)381-1252 or send resumes to 2286 Main, Suite 2D Bend, Oregon.
Solo St. John was in the middle of an erotic dream about his buddy, Nyssa Harrington, when the click of his front door shutting brought him to instant alert mode.
Solo looked up, caught a flashing glimpse of a good deal of naked flesh; long legs, perfectly rounded derriere, and a waist he could span with his hands. The intruder's long blond hair curled around her shoulders an inch above the ties of her bikini top.
Then he saw the skunk. He blinked twice.
This woman and the skunk were not the subject of his brief and very strange dream, a fantasy that made his mind speed along at sixty in a residential zone. This was someone he had never seen before and he resented the intrusion.
"Hello," she cooed seductively from his living room. "Will you come out and play?"
The skunk stuck a black and white head around the open door to his bedroom. A second later the animal turned and lifted his tail before disappearing into the living room.
Solo was out of bed and pulling on his jeans before the count of five. Yet in that short time, the lady in question, along with the skunk that was now exploring his fireplace hearth, had taken over his living room.
The lithe, supple blond sported an expensive camera, and all the while the lady in question babbled nonsense words.
"I'm willing, able, and eager." She posed for him, a pose meant to entice.
"You're insane?" He hesitated then said to the lady, "Get that animal out of here!"
"I read the ad in the newspaper for a wildlife photographer, and I wanted to be the first one here." She smiled and tugged on a leash which was connected to the skunk. "Juniper is my pet. She's deperfumed or whatever."
He had never, to his recollection, set eyes on this woman. Frozen stock-still in his bare feet between the bedroom and the living room of his rustic forest retreat in the hills outside Sisters, Oregon, Solo St. John was completely, utterly baffled.
After all, he had placed the ad in a few of the most widely distributed papers in Oregon. That was two days ago. Yesterday, having second thoughts and knowing he didn't want to train an assistant, he pulled it. Although none of this made sense, instinctively, he knew she told the truth. The ad was the cause of this phenomenon in his cabin.
"Come here and play." Posing seductively once again, she beckoned him with one slim index finger.
Why didn't he want to play? Wouldn't any normal, warm-blooded American male dream of waking up to an almost naked blond bombshell in his living room? Wouldn't that male want to play?
Why didn't he feel turned on and excited. Why didn't he fantasize about what would happen if he obeyed? All those lush curvaceous parts on display didn't interest him in the least.
He closed his eyes for a brief count of three. No, this wasn't a dream and the slap on the face he gave himself didn't cause the vision to disappear. He still had a good view of long, shapely legs and a bust line that threatened to pop the seams of her minuscule top.
"Lord." Only now, he realized he must have left his front door unlocked. He pulled his gaze from the fiasco on his hearth and reminded himself that a gentleman didn't stare.
"Smile." She brought the camera up and clicked a sideways snapshot of him before she stepped back and captured a print of the skunk. "You did want someone who could photograph wildlife. Didn't you?"
Solo raked a hand through short, ragged blond hair he knew had begun to stand on end. He didn't need this, and he was always hard pressed to put two and two together this late at night. He was a morning person, up before dawn. Even if he'd had all his wits about him, he wouldn't know how to politely rid himself of this strange intruder and her pet skunk.
He didn't want to admit, even to himself, but it looked like she was disrobing. Stripping was a better term. All she needed were a pair of tassels and music.
As he stepped forward in an attempt to stop her, she slipped off her top and twirling it around her index finger tossed it at him. The bikini bra flew past him and missed his nose by less than an inch. The bottoms landed squarely against his chest and slid down his body to land on his bare feet. Before he could reach her, she stood in front of him, all kinds of pale pink flesh revealed and waiting for him.