Romance Author Lynn LaFleur

Marcus is still angry and hurt over Rayna destroying their marriage. They’re forced to spend time together while the construction company he works for repairs her grandmother’s house due to a fire. Old desires still smolder beneath the surface, but Marcus is leery of giving in to them. Rayna broke his heart when she left him. He can’t live through that kind of pain again.

Both Rayna and Marcus have to let go of the past before they can forgive each other and fall in love again.

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Excerpt:

Once Griff left, Marcus wandered to the break room and helped himself to an apple fritter and a large mug of coffee. He devoured a third of the fritter on his way back to the office. Laying it on a napkin on the desk, he wiped his hands on his jeans and sat down, prepared to begin making phone calls.

Before he had the chance to punch in the numbers of the first customer, the front door opened. He lifted his head to greet whoever walked in. The greeting died in his throat when he saw Rayna.

Her eyes widened the way they had at the hospital last night. Slowly, Marcus rose from his chair. He watched her close the door and take a few steps into the room. She’d come into the place where he worked. He couldn’t avoid speaking to her. “Hey, Rayna.”

“Marcus.” Her voice sounded hoarse, raspy. It reminded him of the way she’d said his name while on the brink of orgasm.

Don’t go there, buddy. That part of your life is gone.

“You work here?” she asked after clearing her throat. She must have heard the huskiness in her voice, too.

He nodded. “I’m the foreman.”

“Oh.”

While she glanced around the spacious, airy office, Marcus took the opportunity to let his gaze wander over her. She wore an olive-green T-shirt, faded jeans, and white running shoes today. Ivory combs held her hair behind her ears. She looked every bit as stunning in the everyday clothes as she had last night in the silk blouse and creased slacks.

He didn’t know what to do, what to say. For someone who had no trouble talking to anyone, his tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth. All the confusing feelings he’d experienced last night came barreling back to swamp him…feelings he didn’t know how to handle.

He had to push everything aside and be professional in order to get through the reason for her visit. “I assume you’re here about Ms. Grace’s house.”

His statement seemed to shake her from her shock. “Yes. It suffered some damage from the fire last night. Mattie told me I should contact Coleman Construction.”

Marcus smiled at the thought of the young, cute brunette with the freckles scattered over her face. “Mattie’s a good kid. She takes great care of Ms. Grace.”

“Twenty-six is hardly a kid, Marcus.”

“Anyone younger than thirty is a kid to me.”

Her lips quirked in what Marcus could call a small smile, if he used his imagination. “You’re only thirty-three.”

“Some days I feel older than that. I guess that happens to everyone.” He motioned toward one of the two chairs before the desk. “Sit down. Let’s talk about Ms. Grace’s house.”

She peered into his mug before she sat. “Do you have more coffee?”

“Sure. I’ll get you some.”

He found another ceramic mug in the break room’s cabinet and filled it with the hot brew. After splashing a generous amount of liquid creamer in it, he peered into the cardboard box of donuts. Locating a chocolate-covered old-fashioned, he laid it on a napkin and returned to the office.

“Here you go.” He set the mug and napkin on the desk in front of her.

Rayna stared at the donut and coffee for a long moment before looking at him with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. “You remember how I fix my coffee and the type of donut I like?”

Marcus shrugged. “I remember a lot of things.”

Including one Sunday morning when he’d gone out early to buy muffins and donuts. He’d brought them to Rayna in bed and proceeded to place pieces of a chocolate old-fashioned donut on her nude body. Starting at her neck, he’d eaten the pieces as he made his way down her silky flesh. After he finished the last crumb he’d placed at the top of her pubic hair, he’d feasted on the feminine delta until she’d cried out from her climax.

She looked at the donut, back at him. He thought he saw lust flash through her eyes as if she, too, thought of that morning. Or perhaps he imagined he saw lust. Maybe deep inside, he wanted her to remember the amazing sex life they’d shared and hurt the way he had at the loss of something so extraordinary.

He didn’t imagine the way her hands trembled when she lifted the mug and sipped her coffee.