Excerpt of The Secret Life of Bryan by Lori Foster

Chapter One

"Tell me your name."
Impatience rose up, nearly making his dark blond hair
stand on end. "This is no time for games."

Oh boy. And here she'd always thought preachers were
supposed to be full of endless, unwavering forbearance.
Such a contradiction. But Shay didn't scare easily. "I'll
go with you. When I know your name." And then, to soften
her insistence: "You can't expect me to just go traipsing
off with a stranger."

"And hearing my name is all the reassurance you need?"

His disbelief and suspicion made Shay grin. "Yeah."

Rankled, he rubbed his jaw, dragged a hand over his damp
hair. Then he stuck out his hand. "Bryan Kelly." No sooner
did he say it than he looked poleaxed, like he wanted to
turn around and walk away from her, or curse, or punch the
brick wall.

Instead, he just stood there, frozen, his hand extended.

"Bryan." She tasted the name, watched him watching her,
and closed her fingers around his. "I like it."

"I meant to say Bruce."

Shay blinked twice. "What?"

With her hand still held in his, he repeated, "I meant to
say Bruce. Bryan's ... my middle name."

"Bruce Bryan Kelly?" And she thought her own name was
unique.

His scowl was back, blacker and meaner than ever. "I
prefer you call me Preacher."

"Why?"

He appeared to be grinding his teeth. "Because that's what
everyone calls me."

"So?"

"I can't show favoritism." He seemed satisfied with that
explanation, enough to expound on it. "You can imagine how
that'd look, all things considered."

It was difficult not to laugh. "Things being that I'm a
prostitute and you're offering to protect me?"

If looks could hurt ... "Exactly."

"I'll call you Bryan - but only when we're alone."

Seconds passed while he stared at her, probably trying to
intimidate her. "Will you now?"

She met him stare for stare. "Yes."

His eyes narrowed more, his lip curled, and he turned
away. "Good thing we won't be alone much, then." He still
had her hand caught in his, practically dragging her
along, keeping close to the buildings and as far from the
blowing rain as they could get.

Pulling the tiger's tail, Shay asked sweetly, "Don't you
want to know my name?"

They walked another ten feet before he said in
distraction, "What the hell? Go ahead and tell me."

His absent tone was tempered by the protective way he led
her down the deserted street. For a preacher, he had
incredible instincts, staying alert, constantly scanning
the area. Had he maybe served in the service before
choosing this vocation? Or was his edgy, suspicious nature
just a basic part of the man?

Whatever the reasons for his unique attitudes, Shay liked
them. She liked him.

It was the first time, since her husband, that a man had
bothered to show interest in her for any reason other than
her money. She was well used to men fawning over her,
trying to ingratiate themselves into her life. She had
connections and wealth, which meant she had power. The
combination served as quite an inducement to most guys.

But Bryan Kelly was unaware of her assets; for heaven's
sake, the man thought she was a common hooker in a dirty
little neighborhood, desperate enough to be selling her
wares on a night like this. It wasn't the most
complimentary assumption ever made.

But it was better than being wanted for her money.

And for the moment, she preferred he go on thinking it.
Which meant she couldn't give him her full name. "You can
call me Shay."

"Shea what?"

No way would she give him her last name. After recent
events, she'd suffered some truly awful publicity and he'd
probably read most of it. It wouldn't be a stretch to
think he'd leave her standing in the street alone if he
realized her identity. "Just Shay."

After a furtive glance, he asked, "Just Shea, like the
stadium?" Amusement lightened his eyes. "Or just Shea,
like Cher, important enough that you only need one name?"

Was he laughing at her? It didn't matter. Laughter was
better than disdain any day. "Just Shay, as in short for
Shaina." She spelled out her name for him. No one in the
papers had known her full name. No one had called her
Shaina since she'd been adopted.

He nodded, then said, "No last name, huh?"

"I like to protect my privacy."

After a look that could cut, he let it go, and for once,
Shay was glad. If he didn't ask any other questions, she
wouldn't have to outright lie to him.

He led her along until they came to a fully lighted
section, leaving the blackout behind. The buildings were
close together, some rundown, some tidy, all of them
showing signs of poverty.

He released her hand and pointed ahead. "See that tall,
skinny building at the end of the street? That's the safe-
house. You're welcome there any time."

"Thank you, Bryan."

His piercing gaze locked on hers, while one side of his
mouth curled. It wasn't humor that put that half smile on
his hard face. "You're a pushy broad, aren't you?"

Since Shay couldn't deny that, she only shrugged an
apology. It was a rhetorical question anyway, given how he
turned his attention away.

She liked holding his hand and walking beside him in the
rain, feeling his attentiveness to his surroundings and
listening to his deep voice and breathing his scent.

She'd like to get to know him better too, to maybe work
with him, maybe be ... intimate with him.

Okay, so she'd jumped ahead with giant leaps on that one.
The timing couldn't be more wrong, and considering that he
was a preacher, her thoughts were even inappropriate. But
these things really didn't wait for perfect timing, she
supposed.

It had been a long time in coming, and now that desire was
finally hitting her again, it did so in full force. She
felt it everywhere, such wonderful feelings. And they were
intensifying with each second they spent together.

Watching Bryan's long-legged stride excited her. Hearing
his deep-toned, rough voice made her insides swirl. Even
his ears seemed sexy, and if that wasn't lust, she didn't
know what to call it.

With his palm at the small of her back, he ushered her
ahead of him. He was easily 6 feet tall, which left them
nearly the same height. Bryan didn't seem intimidated by
that. In fact, he didn't appear to notice. His inattention
to her as woman might be a problem, she decided.

He wrestled a set of keys out of a tight, damp, jeans
pocket and unlocked the door, then held it open for her.
Lights were on inside.

As she slipped out of his now soaked jacket, she watched
him.

He ran his hands through his wet hair to push it out of
his face, and turned toward her. Shay held out his jacket -
and he froze.

With his hands still in his hair, his gaze zeroed in on
her body. Slowly, very slowly, he lowered his arms. His
attention was nearly tactile, heating her, making her
heart beat fast.

Belatedly, Shay remembered what he'd told her, that the
rain had made her tailored, white silk dress transparent.
Oh no. With dread, she looked down, and almost collapsed
with embarrassment.