Leverage. Janie Crouch
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“You hurt me, Dylan. Because what you think you want and what you really want are two different things.”
“I want you,” he whispered, backing her up against the wall. “You are what I think I want and what I really want.”
“But you might change your mind.” Shelby began to look away again.
“I am not going to change my mind.” Dylan brought his hands up on either side of her head, burrowing his fingers in her damp hair. “I hurt you, because I’m so used to pushing everyone away, and I’m sorry. You are what I want. I won’t hurt you again.”
Dylan could see the doubt in Shelby’s eyes, and it killed him. He was afraid she would pull away. But she leaned toward him, putting her lips gently against his.
He kissed her back gently. But then the hunger—the heat—that had sparked between them since the first moment they’d met flared again. And all thought of soft and gentle was left behind.
To my “Shelby”: soul mates come in all different forms, in all different seasons. Thank you for the love you radiate and helping me see the beauty in everything. May the wine of our friendship never run dry.
Leverage
Janie Crouch
JANIE CROUCH has loved to read romance her whole life. She cut her teeth on Mills & Boon® romance novels as a pre-teen, then moved on to a passion for romantic suspense as an adult. Janie lives with her husband and four children overseas. Janie enjoys traveling, long-distance running, movie-watching, knitting and adventure/obstacle racing. You can find out more about her at www.janiecrouch.com.
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Sometimes a man just wanted to be left alone.
Dylan Branson didn’t think that was too much to ask. He’d served his country for years, both on American soil and off, and had the scars—both physical and emotional—to show for it. But that was behind him now. Far behind him.
Not that you would know it from the voice talking at Dylan from the phone.
Dylan held the phone out at arm’s length, staring at it as if it were a snake about to bite him. He’d rather be handling a snake. Seriously, give him a cottonmouth over what was at the other end of this phone line.
It was Dennis Burgamy, Dylan’s boss when he worked at Omega Sector, a covert interagency task force. A crime-fighting, problem-solving, get-stuff-done unit, made up of the most elite agents the country had to offer. And Dylan had been one of the best of the best.
But not anymore.
Despite its arm’s-length distance, Dylan could still hear Dennis Burgamy clearly on the other line. Dylan hadn’t held the phone against his ear in at least two minutes, but evidently Burgamy hadn’t missed Dylan’s input into the conversation because the other man hadn’t even noticed Dylan wasn’t talking.
Which was pretty typical of Dylan’s former boss. The difference now was that Dylan didn’t have to listen to the other man. Burgamy wasn’t his boss anymore.
Finally silence came from the other end of the phone. Dylan cautiously brought it back to his ear.
“Are you there, Branson?”
“Yeah, I’m