| Copyright Leigh D'Ansey 2010 | all rights reserved | Site design: Leigh D'Ansey |
A drift of night air brushed Kate's cheek. The skin on the back of her neck crawled at the
unmistakeable sound of footsteps stalking along the shadowy corridor. She had a
nanosecond to scrabble awkwardly for Professor Schräder’s hefty paperweight, but before
she could tighten her grip, the office door swung inwards. And there, to her horror, fifteen
years older and even more devastatingly handsome than she remembered, stood Nathan
Kincaid.
“What the hell—!?”
Nathan drew to an abrupt halt. The angle of light at the end of the corridor had warned him
to be cautious. He didn’t have a weapon, but he knew he could rely on his bare fists and
street savvy. He was confident he could handle a petty thief on the prowl for some loose
change—and there couldn’t be anything else worth stealing from Second Chance’s run-
down rooms.
It took a moment or two for his eyes to adjust to the glaring fluorescents, and less than a
moment for his body to react with a carnal reflex that had everything to do with primal
instinct and nothing to do with conscious thought.
A pair of startled topaz eyes stared up at him from behind an ugly cube of furniture he
hoped wouldn’t turn out to be his desk. Hair the colour of malt whiskey swirled around
smooth bare shoulders. Her lips pouted as if she was about to blow him a kiss—and her
gorgeous legs were startlingly displayed from golden thighs to peach-painted toenails on
the cluttered desktop in front of him.
“Nath…M…Mr. Kincaid!”
Laced with an accent that was part California and all woman, her throaty voice ramped up
the tension that pulled his muscles taut. A lick of heat stroked his groin. “You seem to have
the advantage,” he growled. “Who the hell are you?”
Her slender fingers hovered over a paperweight he recognised from painful hours spent
pouring his heart out to Armand during his long ago stint in juvie. He stepped closer,
crowding her with his bulk. “Don’t even think about it.”
The intensity of his sexual response tugged at his gut. But the alarm in her eyes made him
want to run his hand down her cheek in the same way he might soothe one of the
Mustangs on his ranch back home. It didn’t take long to arrest the impulse.
He remembered how tender he’d felt towards his ex-wife when she’d told him she was
pregnant—and how his delight at the idea of fatherhood had evaporated when she’d
added the enlightening fact that the baby she was carrying belonged to someone else,
someone who could trace his forebears right back to the damn Mayflower, according to
Ginny.
“You don’t even know who your father is, Nathan,” she’d said cuttingly.
Feeling tender towards women was something he’d shied away from ever since. He
preferred dates who knew the score—fine wines, expensive gifts and sex that was fun but
without commitment. That way nobody got hurt. He’d been a lot of places in his life and
enjoyed most of them. But marriage wasn’t a trip he intended to take again.
He reached low, closing his fingers around the smooth glass weight with its insect
trapped grotesquely inside. A drift of air warmed his knuckles as his sexy trespasser
snatched her hand away.
unmistakeable sound of footsteps stalking along the shadowy corridor. She had a
nanosecond to scrabble awkwardly for Professor Schräder’s hefty paperweight, but before
she could tighten her grip, the office door swung inwards. And there, to her horror, fifteen
years older and even more devastatingly handsome than she remembered, stood Nathan
Kincaid.
“What the hell—!?”
Nathan drew to an abrupt halt. The angle of light at the end of the corridor had warned him
to be cautious. He didn’t have a weapon, but he knew he could rely on his bare fists and
street savvy. He was confident he could handle a petty thief on the prowl for some loose
change—and there couldn’t be anything else worth stealing from Second Chance’s run-
down rooms.
It took a moment or two for his eyes to adjust to the glaring fluorescents, and less than a
moment for his body to react with a carnal reflex that had everything to do with primal
instinct and nothing to do with conscious thought.
A pair of startled topaz eyes stared up at him from behind an ugly cube of furniture he
hoped wouldn’t turn out to be his desk. Hair the colour of malt whiskey swirled around
smooth bare shoulders. Her lips pouted as if she was about to blow him a kiss—and her
gorgeous legs were startlingly displayed from golden thighs to peach-painted toenails on
the cluttered desktop in front of him.
“Nath…M…Mr. Kincaid!”
Laced with an accent that was part California and all woman, her throaty voice ramped up
the tension that pulled his muscles taut. A lick of heat stroked his groin. “You seem to have
the advantage,” he growled. “Who the hell are you?”
Her slender fingers hovered over a paperweight he recognised from painful hours spent
pouring his heart out to Armand during his long ago stint in juvie. He stepped closer,
crowding her with his bulk. “Don’t even think about it.”
The intensity of his sexual response tugged at his gut. But the alarm in her eyes made him
want to run his hand down her cheek in the same way he might soothe one of the
Mustangs on his ranch back home. It didn’t take long to arrest the impulse.
He remembered how tender he’d felt towards his ex-wife when she’d told him she was
pregnant—and how his delight at the idea of fatherhood had evaporated when she’d
added the enlightening fact that the baby she was carrying belonged to someone else,
someone who could trace his forebears right back to the damn Mayflower, according to
Ginny.
“You don’t even know who your father is, Nathan,” she’d said cuttingly.
Feeling tender towards women was something he’d shied away from ever since. He
preferred dates who knew the score—fine wines, expensive gifts and sex that was fun but
without commitment. That way nobody got hurt. He’d been a lot of places in his life and
enjoyed most of them. But marriage wasn’t a trip he intended to take again.
He reached low, closing his fingers around the smooth glass weight with its insect
trapped grotesquely inside. A drift of air warmed his knuckles as his sexy trespasser
snatched her hand away.
Kincaid's Call
Nathan Kincaid reckons any man’s testosterone would go into
overdrive at the sight of a dynamite-looking woman with wild hair
and topaz eyes, a gorgeous pair of legs and a peek of satin panties
right there on his desktop!
overdrive at the sight of a dynamite-looking woman with wild hair
and topaz eyes, a gorgeous pair of legs and a peek of satin panties
right there on his desktop!
| "Leigh D’Ansey’s debut novel, Kincaid’s Call is ripe with romance and perfect for a quick summer read." Read more.... "FANTASTIC reading, the romance is sizzling, emotional and written by a master" Read more... |
Leigh D'Ansey
Leigh D'Ansey
Romance Author
Romance Author
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Excerpt from. . .
| Work in Progress Married to McAllister |
Jack McAllister's back in town. Jack
always pays his dues, no matter
how overdue they are or how
misguided he was in accruing
them; Samantha Ryan is top of his
payback list.
Debt of a different kind is weighing
Sam down-the kind that keeps you
awake at night wondering if you
can meet the mortgage or pay the
tax man. One thing Sam knows for
sure-she won't be handing Jack
McAllister her heart on a plate any
time soon more...
always pays his dues, no matter
how overdue they are or how
misguided he was in accruing
them; Samantha Ryan is top of his
payback list.
Debt of a different kind is weighing
Sam down-the kind that keeps you
awake at night wondering if you
can meet the mortgage or pay the
tax man. One thing Sam knows for
sure-she won't be handing Jack
McAllister her heart on a plate any
time soon more...
| Read excerpt. |
| COMING SOON! |