Meet Gavin in Heather’s newest M/M
standalone romance!
NOW AVAILABLE
Blurb
All Gavin Walker, bass player for the
multi-platinum selling band, Sphere of Irony, wants to do is surf, play music,
and occasionally get laid. The problem is that Gavin has a stalker. A
potentially deadly one. The threats he receives always mention something about
Gavin being gay, which isn't public knowledge since the record label wants to
keep it quiet.
Mitch Hale used to track serial killers
for the FBI. A live-changing incident led him to quit the bureau and start his
own company providing computerized security for Los Angeles' wealthiest people.
Mitch doesn't know anyone when he moves across the country from D.C. to
California, and all he has for companionship is a pathetic string of failed
relationships with women.
When Gavin's manager hires Mitch to find
the stalker, the men instantly hate each other. Despite the constant fighting,
attraction between the two blazes hot, confusing the former FBI agent. Spending
time with Gavin forces Mitch reflect on what he's denied about himself for the
last ten years. Listening to Mitch's plan to catch a madman thrusts Gavin's
personal life out in the open for the entire world to see.
Can Gavin and Mitch stop fighting long
enough to stop a stalker before someone gets hurt? Or will they stubbornly
resist the feelings that develop when they're forced to work together?
This is book 3 in a 4 part series. It is
a spin-off of the Famous Series. These can be read as standalones.
Excerpt #1 : Gavin Meets Mitch
Before I
can ask any more questions, there’s a knock and the door opens a crack. “Mr.
Evans, Mr. Hale is here.”
“Send him
in please, Donna.” Ross stands and adjusts his suit, straightening out the
cuffs and fixing his expensive tie until it lays just so.
I rake a
hand over my hair, but it’s pointless. I’m lucky I bothered to shower this
morning after my company left. I’m sure I look like shit—with the lack of sleep
and the constant stress I’m surprised I don’t look worse.
Good
genes, I guess. I frown at the thought of my father.
I can hear
Donna outside. “Go right on in.”
The door
opens and a man enters. No, not just a man. A gorgeous man. Stunning, actually.
For the second time in five minutes, my jaw hangs open.
The man is
a study in opposites. His hair, swept back from his face and so dark it’s
nearly black, is paired with bright slate grey eyes, a color I’ve never seen
before. He looks rugged and dangerous, as if he could kill a man with his bare
hands. Yet he’s wearing a tailored and expensive charcoal grey suit that
showcases his body to perfection. He’s rough and he’s polished.
And I
can’t stop staring.
“Mr. Hale,
thank you so much for coming on such short notice.”
Ross has
circled the table and is shaking the man’s hand.
“Call me
Mitch, please.”
Jesus,
even his voice is hot. Deep and silky, it’s as smooth as fine whiskey.
“This is
Gavin Walker,” Ross introduces me, stepping aside.
It takes
both of them staring at me and an uncomfortably long silence for me to realize
I’m still gawking. Embarrassed, I snap my mouth shut.
“Sorry.”
Jumping up from my chair, I extend a hand. “Gavin Walker. Thanks for coming.”
He clasps
his hand around mine, large and hot and coarse, and pumps it firmly. “Mitch
Hale, good to meet you. Wish it were under better circumstances.”
He smiles
and I have the sudden urge to rub myself all over his beautiful, hard body.
Heat spreads up from our joined hands, sending a flush of pleasure over my
skin.
Mitch
clears his throat and glances down where I’m still clutching his hand. Shit. I
let go, flinching back in humiliation. I jam my hand into the pocket of my
jeans, fingering the smooth, heart-shaped stone I keep there.
“Let’s
sit.” Ross directs Mitch to the conference table. “Drink?”
Mitch
holds up a hand. “I’m good.” I catch the slightest twitch in one of Mitch’s
intriguing eyes.
“Okay.
Here is the file we have so far.” Ross pushes a folder across the table.
Mitch
opens it, scanning the contents. Waiting for him to read about the stalker
that’s been harassing me is humiliating, yet it gives me a chance to study the
man further. I should resist staring, but I can’t. He’s too gorgeous to ignore.
I flick my
gaze over to Ross, who is busy returning emails on his laptop. Good. I don’t
want Ross to catch me ogling the new guy. When my eyes land back on Mitch, I
have to hold in a groan.
This guy
is trying to kill me.
As he
flips through the pages in the file—photos, descriptions, police reports—the
end of his very wet, very pink tongue pokes out between his lips. Every once in
a while, it sneaks back in so he can pull that lush red bottom lip between his
teeth, biting on it in concentration.
Jesus. As subtly as I can, I shift on the
chair to adjust the semi pressing against my pants.
More
contradictions. That tongue, the biting of the lip, both so playful and
innocent against the serious image he projects with the suit and the perfectly
styled hair and the—I inhale deeply—hint of designer aftershave.
Suddenly,
Mitch closes the folder and sits up, folding his hands on top of it. I jerk
away, sitting back in my chair instead of leaning halfway over the table like a
besotted teenage girl.
“This man
is not to be taken lightly,” he cautions, his intelligent gaze traveling back
and forth between Ross’ and mine.
Ross
closes his laptop, giving Mitch his full attention. “We’re not taking it
lightly. Gavin has security with him at all times since the…” Ross glances at
me, “the incident in New York.”
“And
before that?” Mitch asks. I stare at the hard line of his jaw then drop my eyes
down to the curve of his throat where it disappears into the top of his crisp
dress shirt. I pray that he doesn’t see the way my hands shake or the heat
prickling my face as lust washes over me.
“Before
that we weren’t documenting anything we received, just throwing them away. They
were mostly letters, gifts…” Ross trails off.
“But no
involvement by law enforcement?”
My eyes
bounce back and forth between the two men.
Ross
sighs. “Not until the New York incident.” When Mitch scowls, a look that makes
him look even more dangerous and a hell of a lot sexier, Ross elaborates. “Do
you know how many crazy fans are out there? Hell, Adam gets over a hundred
bizarre gifts and letters a week. That’s just the strange ones. Plus, keeping
this out of the media is important to the record label.”
Mitch
nods. “I understand. I’m not judging. I’m just trying to get a feel for what
I’ll be dealing with. That includes how long law enforcement has been checking
into this guy.”
“Not
long,” I whisper, surprised to hear myself speak. I’m used to being discussed
as if I’m not in the room. It comes with the job—decisions made for you without
your input.
Two sets
of eyes focus on me and I feel my cheeks blaze hot. That intense grey stare has
me squirming, and this time it’s not from embarrassment. Another rush of heat
ripples down my spine. I run my hands through my hair to catch the beads of
sweat that have popped up on my temples.
Mitch
opens his mouth to say something then snaps it shut. He blinks a few times
before speaking. “Tell me how this began, Gavin. What you’ve noticed
personally.”
“Shit, how
long do you have?” I scoff.
The corner
of Mitch’s mouth quirks up. “I have time.” He puts two fingers into the collar
of his shirt and tugs gently.
The subtle
motion brings images of Mitch tearing off his clothes, sending another wave of
sizzling need through me. Nodding, I take a sip of water to cool down the
desire inspired by Mitch’s proximity.
Ross’ cell
phone rings, startling me. I fumble with the glass, nearly spilling it.
“Damn.
Sorry.”
This time,
Mitch smiles. My eyes fixate on that mouth as his lips part to reveal two rows
of perfect teeth.
“I have to
take this,” Ross confesses. He glances over. “You okay to do this without me?”
No. I’m not okay. You’re going to
leave me in a room with one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen while I’m a
nervous, blundering wreck.
That’s
what I’m thinking. What I say isn’t even close.
“Yeah. I’m
good.”
Ross
stares at Mitch. “I’ll be back to discuss the specifics of your contract.”
“No
problem,” Mitch agrees. Leaning back in his chair, he crosses one ankle over
his knee.
Holy—
Now he’s
given me a direct view of his crotch, hugged tight by those tailored grey
slacks. There’s a lot to look at. Jesus. If what I’m seeing isn’t an illusion,
he is hung. I don’t realize that I’m staring right at Mitch’s dick until his
leg drops and he leans forward, elbows on his knees.
“It’s okay
to be nervous.”
Blinking,
I look up to see those deep gunmetal eyes waiting patiently for me to respond.
“Ummmm,
I’m not nervous.”
I am, but not for the reasons you
think.
Mitch puts
his large hands back up on the table, his eye twitching again. “Do you mind if
I get a drink?” He gestures towards the tray Donna set out.
“Not at
all.”
“So,” he
continues as he removes his jacket, hangs it over his chair, and circles the
table. “Tell me about the letters.”
Mitch picks
up a mug, turning his back to me to prepare his coffee. My mouth goes dry at
the sight of his perfect, round ass showcased by the tight grey fabric that
clings to every curve.
“Gavin?”
I can’t do
this here with him. Alone. With that ass, those eyes, and the scent of whatever
cologne he’s wearing. My brain won’t function properly while bombarded from all
sides by filthy sexual fantasies starring Mitch.
“I-I
forgot. I have somewhere to be.”
Jumping
up, I catch a surprised expression on Mitch’s face right before I bolt out the
door.
Mitch dresses down for Gavin’s public
appearance.
I catch
the tail end of Gavin’s conversation and come down the stairs in time to see
him hang up his phone.
“I need to
discuss something with you in the car,” I mention as I hit the bottom step.
Gavin
whirls around and chokes at the sight of me. His eyes bug out of his head like
a cartoon character and his mouth drops open. Then… he bursts into laughter.
The little shit. Honest to god, full belly, tears-in-his-eyes laughter.
“What?” I
snap. If he hadn’t started laughing I would have sworn I saw desire on his face
when I came down the stairs. Hell, his tongue practically rolled out of his
mouth.
“W-what on
earth? I-I mean…” The laughter continues.
I cross my
arms and scowl, waiting for him to stop acting like a brat. “Are you done?”
Gavin
wipes his eyes. “I don’t know, Mitch. What the hell?” He points at me, waving
his hand up and down my body. “What are you wearing?”
I scoff.
“We’re going to be late. Can I catch you up in the car?” Annoyed at the fact
that Gavin is still giggling like a
schoolgirl, I snatch my keys off the foyer table and stomp outside to wait on
the front step.
“Oh god,”
he whispers in a husky voice as he follows behind me.
“What?” I
yell, whirling around until we’re nose to nose. I know I’m being
unprofessional, but I can’t help myself. He’s being such a dick. “Am I too
embarrassing to be seen with? Am I not good enough for the perfect Gavin Walker?”
“No!”
Gavin responds to my accusations, holding up a hand to keep me from crashing
into him.
I pull
back, still furious. “I need to lock the door,” I snarl.
“Jesus,
Mitch. What the fuck?” Gavin backs away from the door, heading towards the car.
I shouldn’t care what he thinks.
This is work.
After
locking up and pulling the car out of the driveway, I feel like the world’s
biggest jerk.
“Sorry for
yelling,” I say at the same time Gavin mumbles, “Sorry for laughing.”
“Christ,”
I chuckle. “Aren’t we a pair?”
“Yeah,” he
agrees. “So,” I can see Gavin check out my clothing again from the corner of my
eye. “What is with the outfit?”
“Is it
that bad?” I ask, biting my bottom lip as I glance over at all six feet plus of
beautiful blonde man reclining in the passenger seat.
“No! Not
at all. I’m just not used to seeing you like…this,” he says, waving his hand at
my clothes again.
“Like what?”
Here we go
again. I’m getting all offended. And why? Because he doesn’t like my clothes?
Why the hell do I care?
Gavin lets
out a long, tortured breath. “All sexy, okay? Shit.” He looks out the side
window, hiding his face. I see a crimson blush spread over the one visible
cheek and ear.
“Oh.” I
grin. “So I’m sexy?” I tease. That explains his mixed reaction.
Gavin
barks out a laugh, still staring out the passenger window. “Yeah, like you
don’t know that.”
He thinks
I’m sexy? For some reason that has me inherently pleased. More pleased than I
should be but hell, it’s not everyday you get your ego stroked by a rock star.
A gorgeous one at that.
Aaaaand, I
shove that right back into the nifty little space in my brain that’s storing up
all the thoughts I want to deny ever having.
It’s
getting crowded in there.
I clear my
throat. “Honestly, the outfit is because I just couldn’t bear the thought of
even one more day in a damn suit and tie.” I shudder. Gavin tilts his head in
my direction. He’s listening, so I continue. “I felt like I was choking to
death. It was too much like being back at the bureau. I just…Let’s just say I
didn’t want any reminders of my time there, okay?”
“What does
that mean, then? If you aren’t my bodyguard, and you aren’t management, who are
you?” Gavin asks.
I force a
grin on my face, feeling like I might just twitch right out of my skin. Gavin
might not be pleased with my solution.
“I’m your
date.”
Incite (Book One) The Sphere of Irony Series
Strike (Book Two) The Sphere of Irony Series
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About the Author:
Heather C Leigh
After growing up in New England, I currently live just
outside Atlanta, GA.
I love the Red Sox and hate the Yankees.
I love hot, sexy romance novels, but hate long, drawn out
misunderstandings as a plot line.
I love book series, but hate cliffhangers.
I love alpha males, but hate when they borderline on
abusive.
Mostly? I love love love chocolate.
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