The Middle Sin by Merline Lovelace released on May 10, 2005 is available now for purchase.
The Middle Sin
By Merline LovelaceMIRA
Copyright © 2005 Merline Lovelace
All right reserved.ISBN: 077832172XCleo lunged at her attacker.
He was huge, six-foot-six of solid muscle wrapped in black leather pants and a sleeveless leather vest that displayed a half acre or so of hairy chest.
The scumbag had come at Cleo from behind just as she'd entered a locker room ripe with the acrid tang of sweat and the heat of a mid-April Dallas morning. When he'd whipped an arm around her throat, she'd managed to ram her butt into his midsection and catapult him over her shoulder.
Now she was on the offensive. Launching herself through the air, Cleo angled her attack so her knee hit square in his gut. The breath exploded from his lungs. His lips curled over his teeth. Under the tattoos decorating his bald skull, he went as white as a week-old corpse.
But before Cleo could take advantage of her momentary mastery, he contracted his stomach. The muscles under her knee snapped together like coiled springs and almost bounced her right off the hulking giant.
Cursing, she dove forward. The heel of her hand was an inch from his nose when he threw up an arm. Deflecting her blow, he heaved his hips upward and tossed her off like a pesky spaniel. She landed hard enough to water her eyes.
"Dammit, Goose!"
The bald Goliath grinned and made a grab for her. "You're getting soft, North."
This was what she paid him for, Cleo reminded herself grimly as they writhed across the concrete floor. Why she'd turned to him after leaving the air force and starting up her own security-consulting firm. She wanted Goose to toss her on her head occasionally — or try to. A girl had to stay on her toes in this business.
Jamming her booted foot against the floor for leverage, Cleo heaved to one side and slammed Goose into a row of metal lockers. Wedged against the unyielding steel, he lost just enough of his maneuverability for her to hook an ankle over his and bring him down. She had his wrist in a death grip and was attempting to shove it up between his massive shoulder blades when the cell phone clipped to her waist pinged.
Cleo froze. It was a special ring tone, one she recognized immediately. Goose recognized it, too. He shot a look of sudden terror over his shoulder.
"That's Mae. For God's sake, don't answer it!"
Struggling for breath, she hunkered back on her heels. Mae was her part-time office manager. The sixtyish retired accountant had recently developed a severe case of the hots for the muscled giant pinned between Cleo's thighs.
The cell phone rang again. Short. Sharp. Impatient. She could feel Goose start to tremble beneath her. Mae did that to people.
Surrendering to the inevitable, Cleo unhooked her leg and slid off her trainer's rump. "I'd better take it. You know she only uses this signal in emergencies."
Goose rolled over, his face scrunched in earnest entreaty. "Don't tell her you're with me!"
"She knows we had a training session scheduled. Which would have taken place in the gym on a nice, soft rubber pad if my rat-faced trainer hadn't decided to jump me in the women's locker room!"
"You think you're gonna land on a rubber pad out there in the real world, woman?"
Resisting the urge to flip him the bird, she flipped up the phone instead. "It's me, Mae. What's happening?"
"I just took a call from a potential client. He says it's urgent."
"He who?"
"Marcus Sloan."
Cleo's stomach did a quick roll. The image that leapt into her mind was tall, dark and drop-dead gorgeous. Not to mention obscenely rich.
She'd first encountered Marc Sloan four months ago in Santa Fe, while working a case. Sloan had promised to call Cleo and follow up on his not-very-subtle invitations to get her into the sack during those weeks in Santa Fe. After four months of nothing, now it was urgent?
"I told him you'd return his call," Mae announced in her crisp, no-nonsense way. Without missing a breath, she switched gears. "Is Goose with you?"
"Goose?"
Cleo glanced at her hulking trainer. At the mention of his name, he made frantic no-no-no signs with his hands.
"Yes, he's here."
"Put him on."
Smirking, she held out the phone. "Remember this next time you decide to jump me in a women's locker room."
His scowl promised far more lethal tactics in the future. Folding her arms, Cleo listened with una-bashed enjoyment to his side of the conversation.
"Hi, Mae. Yes. Yes." A long pause. "No."
Another pause, punctuated by heavy looks aimed at Cleo, followed by a startled exclamation.
"Good God, no!"
Her eyes widened. Was that a blush crawling up Goose's size-twenty-two neck? It was!
"I'm outta here," he said, thrusting the phone back at her. "Got a job down in Mexico I've been dragging my tail on. It just moved up to number-one priority."
His face as red as the heart on his left biceps, he rushed out of the locker room. Grinning, Cleo put the phone to her ear.
"Goose is about to set a new world record for departing Dallas. What did you say to him?"
Mae huffed into the phone. "I merely suggested he doesn't need to pick up bimbos at biker bars to get his knob polished."
Cleo choked.
"There are more mature women available who might be willing to perform that task," the retired accountant finished.
She wasn't going to touch that one.
"Speaking of mature women," Mae added. "You need to call your stepmother. She left a message saying she wants your advice on new wall-paper for the guest room."
Continues...Excerpted from The Middle Sinby Merline Lovelace Copyright © 2005 by Merline Lovelace. Excerpted by permission.
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