Excerpt of Agent S5: Jaydan by Joni Hahn

“Les, why is your father calling me?”

Shutting her eyes against the dread that
settled in her chest, she groaned to
herself. She

couldn’t open that door. If she did,
she’d make a complete fool of herself.

Walking over to the dresser, she checked
her phone. Three missed calls and a
text. Her

father must’ve checked his DNA tracker
and realized she was in Hawaii.
“Les…”
Looking at the door, she spoke in a
raised voice. “Um, I’m not sure. Why
don’t you call him

back?”

Jaydan chuckled in the hallway. “You
didn’t tell him you were coming to
Hawaii, did you?” Swallowing hard, she
gave her chin a determined tilt. “I
don’t report my whereabouts to my
father. I’m not a child.”

His sardonic chuckle angered her.

Storming over to the door, she told
herself she had to remember this.
During those smokin’ hot visions, she
had to conjure up this memory and
the dozens like it she’d experienced in
the past.
“Hell princess, you –“

She whipped open the door to arms’
length. Jaydan stood naked in her
doorway, save for a pair of gray,
athletic shorts that hung low on his
hips. Water droplets hung from his
dark, wavy hair and dotted his broad
shoulders. His arms and shoulders looked
huge, the angles and braids of muscle
sharp rather than round, the sinew
dense and inflexible rather than pliant
flesh. His sculpted torso was covered
in hard, ridged muscles with a light
dusting of dark hair. He smelled of
rosewood and jasmine, his copper and
gold armbands branding him a masculine
god.
Now, she understood his cougar-­‐like
grace,
his confident saunter. No man on earth
could

call himself cut as long as Jaydan
Rose walked around. He epitomized the
term.

His eyes swirled with dark desire, their
focus on her chest. Glancing down, she
saw her robe

gaped open, exposing the cleavage between
her breasts.

She should cover herself. Close the
door and walk away. Yet, she stood
there, allowing him his fill while she
took her fill of him. The sensation
started deep inside, her mind recalling
the vision, her body readying itself
for him.
There was more than one way to prove
she wasn’t a child.

With a hesitant reach, she feathered her
fingers down the ridges of his abdomen.
The

muscles contracted beneath her touch,
rippling behind her caress in a
symphony of sensuality. His half smile
made her toes curl, his voice a
husky croon. “My turn.”