Just for Kicks

Just for Kicks

Susan Andersen

Language: English

Pages: 236


Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Las Vegas showgirl Carly Jacobsen keeps learning the hard way that her idea of fun differs radically from that of her neighbor Wolfgang Jones. Sure, he looks incredible, and he seems to have a thing for her legs, but the man's a robot. So what's with their chemistry?

Wolf has a plan for his life, and it doesn't include finding himself tempted by the freewheeling Carly…mile-high legs or not. Yet in a moment of weakness, the two discover at least one area where they do both have fun. But outside the bedroom the stakes are getting higher, and love might come down to a roll of the dice…



















when I get back, right?” “Absolutely,” Wolf said with a seriousness that alleviated Nik’s last lurking fear of returning to find himself all alone once again. He blew out a breath. “Okay, then.” Until a few minutes ago, Nik hadn’t realized just how much Wolf had come to mean to him over these past weeks. But he did—he meant the world. His uncle was steady and decent and always there, and Nik knew he could depend on him to do what he said. He didn’t have the first idea how to verbalize all

different from the usual spit-shined, buttoned-down, pain-in-the-ass automaton she was accustomed to seeing. Gone had been the uptight, poker-faced Surveillance honcho, and in his place had stood an angry man who’d looked sort of savage and wild. Which, of course, had called to her. Maybe her mother was right, maybe she did need therapy. She rejected the idea out of hand. Because, please. The guy she more or less knew for his quality clothing—the same man who always looked so pulled together,

smoothing out her tone of voice enough to almost make her demand sound like a request. But Holy Mary, Mother of God—just what was it about him that reduced her to a seething puddle of rampaging hormones? Sure, he had a killer body, but so what? She was surrounded by fit, good-looking men every day at work. Not one of them, however, had ever affected her the way Wolfgang did. When they’d all gone up to Treena’s to put dinner together, Wolf had detoured by his apartment to put on a navy-blue

a carefully plotted campaign that Alexander the Great would have envied taught me that marriage is the last thing I want in my own life. I meant it when I told you I get my kicks from being responsible for myself.” “So what do you suggest, then? That we be lovers for a while?” “Yes. I like Vegas, you don’t. You have an agenda for your future that doesn’t include me, and that suits me right down to the ground. Obviously even if we were interested, we’re not cut out for the long term.” She laid

finished glopping on the deep cleansing oil she used to remove her greasepaint, massaged it in and reached for a handful of cotton balls to wipe it off. “The man’s got baggage up the whazoo.” “Sounds reasonable to me,” Treena said, leaning into the mirror to peel off her false eyelashes. She glanced over at Carly and, beneath the chatter of the other dancers changing into their street clothes, added wryly, “Not the baggage up the whazoo part. I’d just as soon not think too closely about the

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