Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

Under her "real" name, Vonna Harper has published more fiction than she can keep track of. These include category romances for the major players as well as the 'juicy' stuff. She also penned a series of well-received Native American historicals. One earned her finalist status in both the Women Writing the West Willa award and Pacific Northwest Booksellers Association. Before discovering romances, both erotic and otherwise, Vonna 'confessed' all kinds of nonsense for the confession magazines. When asked about erotica research, she insists, "Of course I've time-traveled to the ancient Everglades, infiltrated bondage strongholds, done wilderness search and rescue, and spent a night trapped in a workout gym with Mr. Universe. How can I possibly write about something I haven't experienced?"

Ruth D. Kerce got hooked on writing in the fifth grade when she won a short story contest—a romance, of course. And she's been writing romance ever since. She writes several subgenres of romance—historical, contemporary, and futuristic. Her books are available online in many internet bookstores. Her short stories and articles are available on several websites. She has won or placed in writing contests and hopes to continue to write exciting tales for years to come.

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Good Girl Seeks Bad Rider

Pocket

One

How strange it was to see a man in her garage, but if any man had a right to be there, it was Bryan Aster.

"Are you sure, Lara?" he asked, with his head under the pickup's raised hood. "It's in great shape. And with that low mileage, you could get several thousand more than I can pay you."

"I don't need it, and Spence wanted you to have it."

Bryan's big, rough fingers continued to grip the top of the hood, but she doubted if he was still looking at the truck's inner workings. Being this close to her husband's best friend was disconcerting in ways she didn't want to hold up to the light. Part of her wanted him to leave, but she'd spent so much time alone since Spence's death -- and even before. It was time to rejoin the land of the living and who better with than a man she'd known at least ten years?

"So you're going to move, are you?" He slammed the hood, rattling her nerves even more than they already were.

"I have to. I didn't tell Spence this, but it's in foreclosure. With the medical bills and his not being able to work and my having to take so much time off -- What's that look about?"

Bryan shrugged, the gesture taking her back to when they'd all been in college and he had held down the catcher's position on the school's baseball team during that incredible year when the team had won the state championship. "I wish you'd told me."

"Why?" She tried a mischievous smile, something she hadn't felt like doing in too long. "You been robbing banks and are now giving away your ill-gotten gains? Even if you were rich, I wouldn't want anything. I don't want to live here anymore."

Lifted eyebrows served as Bryan's response. How healthy he looked, tanned with a full head of dark hair, the faintest shadow of lines around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. Funny, she'd never noticed that small dark mole on his right cheek, but maybe she'd never studied him like this before. Hadn't felt his energy before. "Do you think I should stay?" she asked.

"I want you to do what you want to, Lara. You're the only one who knows what's right."

Lara. Damn, why did the sound of her name coming from his lips make her nerves jump? "I'm still relearning what I want. Look, it's hot in here, and there's beer in the fridge."

"There is? I didn't think Spence was doing any drinking near the end."

"He wasn't. This is left over from one of the last times you came to see him. He asked me to pick up some."

Again, Bryan let silence do its work. He led the way back into the house, his movements as familiar as if he lived here. He didn't of course because he and Carol had a condo some two miles away, but he'd been here countless times and probably knew the place's creaks and groans as well as she did. Taking two beers out of the refrigerator, he popped the lid on one and handed it to her.

"I don't -- " she started, unable to take her eyes off his hand.

"Today you do. Come on, you always said you'd stoop to a beer if the day was hot enough. It's hot."

Yes, she acknowledged as they wandered into the air-conditioned living room and plunked themselves into adjacent recliners, summer had indeed arrived while she was too busy with the business of dying to pay attention. After briefly holding the can against her cheek, she took a sip. Wonderful!

His form filled the chair, shoulders scrunched a little to accommodate the inadequate space. Although he hadn't crouched behind home plate for years, he still carried himself as if he belonged there protecting his turf, battling for a win, daring a runner to knock him down.

"So," Bryan said, "do you know where you'll be moving to?"

"Not really. There's a fairly new apartment complex near work but after having my own house -- so much adjustment."

Once again Bryan didn't immediately respond. Had he always been like this around her, not quite comfortable? Or was she a painful reminder of the good friend he'd lost?

"You look tired," he said.

"Bryan, Bryan, don't you know men aren't supposed to say that to women? It's hardly a compliment. Besides, you're the one who looks tired."

"Hmm. You didn't get much sleep near the end, did you?"

"I'm making up for it now. In fact, I can't seem to get enough."

"Because you were neglecting yourself taking care of him."

"What choice did I have?" Shocked by her sharp tone, she leaned forward. When she took a breath, she caught a hint of male heat. "I'm sorry. I swore I wouldn't whine, and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. When Spence decided to go off the chemo, I knew it wouldn't take long. Being there for him was something I had to do."

"You're an incredible woman."

No, she wasn't. What about the nights she'd spent beside Spence's bed wanting him to die so the inevitable would be over? What about the insane anger that swamped her every time she thought about the damn cigarettes that had started everything? Or thought about Spence's increasing dependence on her, his disinterest whenever she tried to tell him what was going on at work, or in the world, or with their finances?

"What?" Bryan asked.

Blinking, she brought the room, or more specifically him, back into focus. Lordy, but that T-shirt was tight! And the shadow of a beard over a strong male bone structure only added to her agitation. "Nothing. Just a moment of that self-pity I'm trying to outrun. It isn't getting me anywhere. So, how are things going for you and Carol? I don't remember seeing her at the funeral, but then, that day was pretty much a blur for me."

"I'm sure it was. Look, about the mortgage here. Do they know what you've been through? Maybe they'll give you some more time to work things out."

"They know, and they've been patient, but this is honestly what I want. Ah, about the truck. Do you mind waiting to take it until after I've moved? It'll make hauling things easier."

He'd been studying the beer can as if it was the most interesting thing in the room, but now he met her gaze with his beautiful deep blue eyes. "You know the answer to that."

Yes, she did. Bryan had always struck her as a giving man. She'd never seen so much as a hint of selfishness in him. If anything, he went too far to put others before himself, particularly Carol, who was more than a little self-absorbed.

"Just say when," he continued, "and I'll round up some guys and we'll do the actual moving. As long as you keep the instructions simple, we shouldn't make too much of a mess."

"Thank you." Laughing at his lighthearted approach, she pointed at a box near the TV. "I've started packing up some of the small stuff. You tell me, what am I going to do with all those tapes now that everything is DVD?"

"Get rid of them, unless there's a sentimental attachment."

Sentimental was hardly the word she'd use. She shouldn't have drawn his attention to that particular box. Good grief, what would he think if he read the titles? Bringing the beer to her lips, she took another swallow. "You're right. This does taste good."

"Hopefully it'll help you relax."

She stuck out her legs, then frowned because she couldn't remember when she'd last shaved them. And thanks to the old shorts, she had to admit her thighs were downright scrawny. All these years of watching her weight and now she'd gone and lost who knew how many pounds without being aware of it. When she looked up again, Bryan was studying not just her bare legs but everything about her, it seemed. Something zinged in her, a hot, crawling sensation. "What?"

"Sorry. I just...do you feel all...