Excerpt of The Spy Who Saved Christmas by Dana Marton

His hands were stained and rough-skinned.
Large. They were the hands that testosterone hath made, she
would think
later, when she could think. His grip was all male and
possessive. His
fingers dug into the pale skin at her hips.

Something in her responded to him.
Everything in her responded to him.

"You have that wild streak of your
grandmother’s, Lara Jordan." Her mother had always poured
her disapproval
on her every chance she got. "Mark my words, girls like you
come to
a bad end," she used to say, then would add with a
disgusted glare,
"Every time."

Lara had fought that parental prejudice
all her life, only to realize now that her mother had been
right. At
the urging of the man who was kissing all common sense from
her, she
lay back on the wood-top table—flour dust be damned—and let
him
situate himself between her legs.

She was twenty two, alone in life for
the first time, and she was about to lose her virginity to
the most
dangerous man she’d ever set eyes on. And she couldn’t
claim for
a moment that he’d seduced her. She was the one who’d
strolled over
to his bakery next door with a trumped up excuse, after
hours.

"Here we are, the butcher and the
baker," she said just so there’d be something in the air
beyond
their panting.

He licked a fiery trail down her neck
and stopped to press his hot lips against her racing
pulse. "If a
candlestick maker tries to interrupt, I won’t be hold
responsible."

They groaned together at the lame play
on the nursery rhyme.

She didn’t know any candlestick makers,
but she thought she might have found the candlestick.

Oh, my.

Her skirt came up. Her panties slipped
away. His mouth scorched her nipples through the thin
fabric of her
bra. She ran her fingers over the corded muscles of his
back. He was
almost a full head taller than her and built like a brick
oven. She
was built like, well, like a butcher, but she felt feminine
next to
him, desirable in his hot gaze from the beginning.

When she’d decided to take over and
run the butcher shop she’d inherited from her uncle, she
considered
that she might be getting in over her head. She had no idea
how deep.
But this was the life she wanted--adventure, challenge, and
not the
staid, average existence her mother had lived where every
move was dictated
by rules and more rules. She was going to be wild and free.

The man between her legs lifted his
head, his dark gaze burning into hers. He said one word
only, "Mine."

"Yes," she whispered as he pushed
inside her with incredible restraint.

They’d known each other for a week.

Two years later...

The day had been going to hell in a
hand basket even before his past decided to rise up and
spit into his
face. Undercover agent Reid Graham watched with mixed
emotions as Lara
Jordan walked in on the arms of a corporate stiff whose
suit cost more
than his monthly government salary.

Of all the restaurants in all the world,
and she walks into this one. Tonight of all nights.

Lust and anger hit him in the gut in
about equal doses. Lust, because the memory of their one
night two years
before was still his number one favorite fantasy. Anger
because a single
word from her could blow his cover and jeopardize an
operation he’d
invested years’ worth of sweat and blood in. One wrong word
could
easily get the both of them killed.

And not just them. He glanced around
the crowded dining room, frowning at the people who could
go from innocent
bystander to victim in a blink of an eye.