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An Excerpt From: LONG, SLOW RIDE

Copyright © MARDI BALLOU, 2008

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“How old are you, Jeff?” she whispered in his ear.

“Twenty-five.”

She swallowed hard. He was even younger than she’d thought. “Sure you know what you’re doing? I’m thirty-six.”

“Cool.” He held her even tighter, which she wouldn’t have thought possible. Cool definitely did not describe the way she felt in his arms. A pool of warmth had gathered smack in her groin, spiraling waves of inappropriate but not unwelcome desire from head to toe. Jeff was definitely cute—okay, hot—but he was so not for her. Those spiraling waves had merged into one gigantic tidal burst that threatened to pull her under.

“Yesterday” ended. Without breaking stride, they continued dancing to “When I Fall in Love”. Of course, by this point, it didn’t really matter what the deejay played. Jeff and Lori were locked in their embrace, barely moving and just about oblivious to everyone and everything.

Too bad she couldn’t allow herself to linger in the delicious haze of being with him. She snapped to alert and mentally smacked herself for what she was thinking, trying—not too hard—to break away. Jeff’s crisp citrus scent invited her to lick his skin and then take a bite. The way he held her, she suspected he wouldn’t mind. Heck, he’d probably lick and bite her right back. She shuddered at the prospect of his full, sensuous lips parting so he could take a taste. Her nipples beaded and she leaned into him even harder because the perverse, bad-girl side of herself wanted him to feel her reaction. His groan expressed approval. So did his growing erection.

The proximity to his arousal practically had her whimpering with need. So close but, in reality, way beyond reach. Cripes, she was on a public dance floor with her work buddies all around her. They’d gathered for a colleague’s wedding. No matter how much booze had flowed and how dim the lights were, people would notice and talk.

“I hate to say this,” he rasped in her ear, arching his hips so she knew they were on the same track, “but duty calls. I’ve got to go now. Trust me, I don’t want to leave.”

So they wouldn’t even get to have the last dance together. She pulled herself into polite, professional mode and cleared her throat. “Nice meeting you, Jeff. Thanks for the dance—er, dances.”

His eyes devoured her. “Uh-uh, this is not goodbye. I just got the signal from the party planner. I need to bring the limo around to take the bride and groom to Princeton Airport. But I’ll be back as soon as I can to give you a ride home.”

“Huh?”

He cupped her chin. “I want to get to know you better. How about a ride in my limo?”

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