Handyman. Jodi Lynn CopelandЧитать онлайн книгу.

      APHRODISIA

       KENSINGTON BOOKS

      http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      CONTENTS

      Coming in First

      Not a Second Too Late

      Third Time’s a Charm

      1

      Now, he was the kind of guy she needed to meet.

      Parallel parked across the street from the Almost Family youth services building, Lissa Malone stopped examining her reflection in the vanity mirror of her Dodge Charger to watch the guy. He stood in front of the youth building, which was constructed of the same old-fashioned red brick as every other building in downtown Crichton, laughing with a lanky, long-haired blond kid in his early teens. The kid wouldn’t be a relative, but a boy from the local community who was going through a rough patch and in need of an adult role model in the form of a foster friend.

      Kind, caring, and considerate enough to be that friend, by donating his free time to the betterment of the kid’s life, the guy was the antithesis of every man she’d dated.

      Make that every straight man. And then again, he wasn’t the complete opposite.

      The way his faded blue Levi’s hugged his tight ass and his biceps bulged from beneath the short sleeves of a slate gray T-shirt as he scruffed the kid’s hair, the guy had as fine of a body as her recent lovers. What he wasn’t likely to have was their badass hang-ups.

      He was one of the good ones. A nice guy. The kind of guy Lissa had never gone for and never had any desire to.

      There was something about those bad boys that called to her. Not just their bedside manner. Though she wasn’t about to knock the red-hot thrill of being welcomed home from work by having her panties torn away and a stiff cock thrust inside her before she had a chance to say hello.

      She shuddered with the memory of Haden, the brainless beefcake she ended up with following her latest dip in the bad-boy pool, greeting her precisely that way three weeks ago. What Haden lacked in mentality, he more than made up for in ability. The guy could make her come with the sound of his voice alone.

      Show me that sweet pussy, Liss.

      Haden’s deep baritone slid through her mind, spiking her pulse and settling dampness between her thighs. She caught her reflection in the vanity mirror as she shifted in the driver’s seat. Her cheeks had pinkened—an unmanageable tell to her arousal—calling out her too-many freckles.

      Yeah, there was definitely something about those bad boys. Something she wouldn’t be experiencing ever again.

      Lissa wasn’t the only woman Haden could bring to climax in seconds. As it turned out, she also wasn’t the only woman he’d been bringing to climax the almost two months they dated. Really, it shouldn’t have surprised her. With bad boys, something always ended up coming before her. Another woman. A massive ego. Or worst of all, the bad boy himself coming before her, then not bothering to stick around to see if she got off.

      She was sick to hell of coming in second.

      In the name of coming in first and being the center of a man’s attention if only for a little while, she was ready to give nice guys a try. Her housemate and ex-lover, Sam, claimed she wouldn’t regret it, since what people were always saying about nice guys was true: they finished last, and it was because they wanted their leading ladies to come in first.

      A nice guy like the well-built Good Samaritan across the street, Lissa thought eagerly. Only, a glance back across the street revealed he wasn’t there any longer. Neither was the kid.

      “Well, shit.” So much for opportunity knocking.

      Not that she had time to do a meet and greet. She had an appointment with the owner of the Sugar Shack candy store for a potential interior redesign job. Besides, Mr. Nice Guy was likely one among a hundred like him who donated his time to Almost Family and similar nonprofit services.

      How many of those others had an ass and arms like his?

      A dynamite ass and a killer set of arms, and probably a gorgeous wife or girlfriend to go with them.

      Her eagerness flame fanned out, Lissa put her nice guy hunt on hold. She returned her attention to the mirror for a quick teeth and facial inspection. Finding everything acceptable and her freckles returned to barely noticeable, she grabbed her black leather briefcase satchel from the passenger’s seat and climbed out of the car.

      The closest she’d been able to get a parking spot to the candy store was three blocks away. She was a stickler for arriving early, so reaching the place on time wouldn’t require sprinting in her skirt and open-toe heels. Hooking the satchel’s strap over her arm, she took off down the sidewalk.

      One block in, footfalls pounded on the sidewalk behind her. Not an uncommon thing, given the number of people milling about the downtown area on a Friday afternoon. What was uncommon was how noisily they fell, like the person was purposefully trying to be loud.

      Were they in step with hers?

      Sam’s thing was paranoia, not Lissa’s. Only, it appeared her housemate was rubbing off on her. Her skin suddenly felt crawly. Her entire body went tense with the sensation of being watched. Followed. Stalked.

      Oh jeez! Could she be any more melodramatic?

      This wasn’t a dark, stormy night scenario. The sun shone down from overhead and, while June in Michigan didn’t often equate to blistering temperatures, a warm, gentle breeze toyed with the yellow, green, and white flowered silk overlay of her knee-length skirt. And there was the fact she was surrounded by a few dozen other people.

      To prove how ridiculous she was acting, Lissa stopped walking. The footfalls came again, once, and then fell silent.

      Her breath dragged in.

      What if she was being followed? The candy store was still a block and a half away. Sprinting the remainder of the distance might be the safest route. Yeah right it would. She was liable to snag a heel in a sidewalk crack and break her neck. Then she would have a reason to be concerned.

      Ignoring the hasty beat of her heart, she faced her overactive imagination by spinning around…and there he was.

      Mr. Nice Guy stood less than twenty feet away. Not following her or even eyeing her up, but standing in front of a coffee shop, peering into its storefront windows.

      He moved toward the shop’s door, pulling it open with a tinkling of overhead bells and placing his ass in her line of vision. Once more she appreciated the stellar view. This time it was more than appreciation though. This time, just before he turned and disappeared inside, he looked her way.

      Lissa’s heart skipped a beat with the glimpse of pure masculine perfection.

      Stubble the same shade of wheat as his thick, wavy hair dusted an angular jaw line and coasted above a full, stubborn upper lip. Eyebrows a shade darker slashed in wicked arcs over vivid cobalt blue eyes. His cheeks sank in just enough to make him look lean, hungry, and dangerous all at once. Then there was the way he filled out his jeans; his backside had nothing on his front half. Beneath the faded denim, muscles bulged and strained in all the right places. And she did mean all the right places.

      If not for catching him joking around with the youth services kid, she would have mistaken him for a bad boy in a heartbeat. He wasn’t. But clearly her body approved of him.

      Heat raced into her face and her nipples stabbed to life, making her wish she hadn’t relied on the built-in shelf bra of her yellow short-sleeve top to hold in her cleavage. Her breasts were