Hands On

( 2 )


Touch Me, Baby. . .

Monday through Friday, they're known as Alex, Mel, and Carl. But by night, these blue collar Texas gals trade in their work boots and tool belts for high heels, lipstick, and men!

Lexi preaches safety first at her construction site, but when she's blindsided by a hot, hard-bodied foreman, he leads her into the danger zone for steamy sex. . .and all kinds of delicious trouble.

Lanie runs her...

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Touch Me, Baby. . .

Monday through Friday, they're known as Alex, Mel, and Carl. But by night, these blue collar Texas gals trade in their work boots and tool belts for high heels, lipstick, and men!

Lexi preaches safety first at her construction site, but when she's blindsided by a hot, hard-bodied foreman, he leads her into the danger zone for steamy sex. . .and all kinds of delicious trouble.

Lanie runs her auto shop, Chick's Garage, with no-nonsense efficiency. Nobody guesses the erotic adventure she's planning for a white-collar guy who needs a lady mechanic to give a kinky spin to his engine.

Carlotta knows how to splice a cable or wire anything, anytime, anywhere better than any man. But when this curvy electrican meets a quiet computer guy, he has something to teach her about how to connect. . .and give up control.

"Luscious. . .readers will want for nothing. . .If you read only one erotic romance this year, put [this] at the top of your list!" --The Romance Studio on Once In A Blue Moon

Amie Stuart is proud to be a native Texan. She is a single mom and lives near Arlington.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780758218926
  • Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corporation
  • Publication date: 6/1/2007
  • Pages: 274
  • Product dimensions: 5.50 (w) x 8.50 (h) x 0.62 (d)

Read an Excerpt




Copyright © 2007 Amie Stuart
All right reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-7582-1892-6

Chapter One

Hot bath; cold beer. Hot bath; cold beer.

This mantra sustained me on the long drive home, on the long walk up my driveway, and even as I'd shoved the key in the back door and unlocked it.

I was so tired that I almost regretted the fact it was Friday night. Friday was Girls' Night. And there was no getting out of it.

Weekends were this blue-collar girl's guilty pleasure. Weekends were spent on the white-collar side of town, in white-collar bars, dancing and teasing and flirting with men who didn't think burping should be an Olympic sport. No blue collars allowed. Not after Melanie, Carlotta, and I spent our week dealing with them daily.

Dealing being the operative word.

I dropped my hard hat on the washer and struggled out of my filthy work boots. They were covered in mud, as was I, from the knees down. Thanks to the heavy spring rains that had saturated the site and put us behind schedule. And a rogue forklift that had gone crashing through a wall with a load of bricks. Luckily no one had been hurt, but this afternoon's descent into hell had killed any excitement or anticipation I had about going out tonight.

And you wanted to go into construction why, Lexi Kimball?

Stripping out of my jeans and work shirt, I padded into thekitchen and retrieved an icy cold beer from the fridge. That first long drink hit my empty stomach at lightning speed and didn't stop until it reached my feet. After being trapped in steel-toed boots all day they practically steamed on the tile floor. With a sigh, I rubbed the chilly bottle against my hot neck.

Momentarily satisfied, I headed for the bathroom and a nice long soak. One of the first things I'd done after I'd bought the house two years ago was gut the extra closet in the master bedroom and put in a Jacuzzi tub for days just like today.

While the tub filled I stripped off my tank top and tossed it into the hamper. The rest of my clothes quickly followed. I ran a hand across the flat plane of my stomach and smiled. Tanned and fairly firm, I certainly didn't get many complaints. My breasts were average, but still perky. Working construction had always kept the arms and legs in shape. Yoga took care of the rest.

Hmm, not bad for 34.

Despite the fact that I'm a natural redhead, I'm lucky enough to be of the variety that tans easily. Rare, but not unheard of. I leaned in closer to the vanity mirror and ran a hand through my short, shaggy hair. Soon I'd have to do something about those silver threads starting to peek through.

The tub was almost full and I added a generous amount of jasmine bath foam, inhaling the relaxing fragrance. Relieved to see the end of another awful day, I sipped at my beer and set the bottle on the edge of the tub, then slid in with a deep sigh.

I liked the satisfaction of seeing something I'd helped build as a finished product, and the money was really good. But construction workers are a breed unto themselves. Being a female Assistant Job Supervisor on an all-male crew had been stressful enough. Adding Safety Supervisor to my title had made things ten times worse, and I didn't believe for a minute that the rest of the job would be any less difficult than the last eighty-eight jobs had been. Nothing like overseeing a group of men who resented the hell out of you to take the wind out of your sails. I'd worked tough gigs before but none this bad.

My sex meant everything to them; my femininity meant nothing.

Shaking off my reverie, I took another long pull of my beer. The combination of warm water and Miller Lite were definitely doing the trick, unworking knots of stress and loosening tense muscles. With another sigh, I closed my eyes and relaxed, my mind drifting to Wade Wilkins, as it had far too often lately.

He didn't strike me as the typical construction crew guy-married, settled, kids, running to fat around his middle and bitter at the chances he'd pissed away or let pass him by. Instead, Wade seemed like the type who enjoyed gambling, and he was the only man on the crew who didn't seem fazed by my sex or my charms (or lack thereof, depending on whom you ask). Too bad his part of the job would be done soon.

Compact, tanned, and muscular, Wade topped my own five feet six inches by only a few more, but the man knew how to fill out a pair of Levi's, and he had these thick, tanned forearms that rippled and flexed from all the manual exertion. You could tell he spent a lot of time outdoors shirtless: no "farmer's tan" for him. I heard he played sand volleyball on the weekends. With his easygoing personality and bright green eyes, he had charmer written all over him. I'd miss watching him work once his drywall crew finished up, but then again, he was a distraction I couldn't afford. After hours was a whole 'nother matter.

I closed my eyes to block out the sight of the tiled walls surrounding me and let my hands have free rein, imagining they were his. They drifted through the silky water until they reached my breasts, cupping them as I imagined Wade's hard length behind me, surrounding me, instead of the fiberglass tub. The throbbing between my thighs quickly intensified as my excitement grew. Lifting one leg, I draped it over the side of the tub, moaning as the water caressed my sensitive pussy lips. My hands continued to squeeze my breasts until my nipples were hard, achy little points. I groaned at the thought of my vibrator tucked away in my nightstand drawer. My muscles were so jellified from the heat and beer, I didn't feel like climbing out of the tub for it. With no other relief in sight, I closed my eyes again and stroked the insides of my thighs, kneading and stroking my way higher and drawing every ounce of anticipation out of it. This was a race all about endurance, not speed.

A picture of Wade driving inside me filled my head, so vivid I could almost believe he was really there with me. Need overcame all other thoughts and I stroked my clit, which swelled under my fingertips. I bit my lower lip as the ache intensified and my labored breathing filled my ears as I neared my goal. Feverishly, my emboldened fingers continued until my body took on a will of its own. Toes curled and hips involuntarily thrust upward out of the water as the waves of my orgasm traveled through me, released by the stroke of my fingers and thoughts of Wade.

Afterward I lay there, listening to my harsh breathing and the soft plunk of water dripping from the faucet.

With a smile of satisfaction, I reached for my beer and sipped the lukewarm brew, contemplating dinner-only to dismiss such a mundane thought, dismayed at the reminder of my solitary existence.

The unexpected sound of the doorbell echoing through the house reminded me that the clock was ticking. Knowing my luck it was Lanie or Carlotta, come to rob my closets.

I climbed out of the tub, wrapped my wet, flushed body in my old robe, and dashed down the hall to the front door. Sliding the chain off, I yanked the door open to discover it wasn't either of the girls.

It was Wade with my lunchbox.

"Wade." How nice to see you, since I just masturbated in my bathtub while thinking about you.

As his full lips curved into a grin, I tightened my robe around my waist, conscious of my legs still trembling from the aftermath of my orgasm. Despite his aviator sunglasses, I had the strange feeling he knew I'd been ... well ... thinking about him. Then again, maybe it was the wet robe and the hard nipples.

"Evening, Alex. You forgot this."

So it wasn't really a lunchbox but a small cooler. I'd left it sitting on the steps of the construction trailer when I'd gone tearing across the site after the forklift crash.

I had no choice but to take the damn thing from his outstretched hand and couldn't work out anything beyond a mumbled thank-you. How could it be legal to work all day in the blistering Houston sun and still look as good as he did?

"Didn't mean to interrupt anything."

I pulled my robe tighter still and forced myself to breathe. "It was time for me to get out anyway."

"Hot date?"

"Girl's Night," I replied with a smile.

He slowly nodded, his grin deepening as he took a few steps backward. "Then I won't keep you. Have fun."

If he had any idea! "I will."

"And stay out of trouble!" With that parting shot, he spun on his heels and disappeared down the walk and around the corner to the driveway, where I heard his truck start up a minute later. Ducking back inside, I shut the door before he saw me standing there, wishing I'd invited him in.

* * *

Two hours later I stepped through Jimmy Z's shiny black double doors, smiling to the burly bouncer who greeted me by name. Located just down the road from the Houston Galleria, Jimmy Z's catered to an eclectic, but mostly upscale, clientele which was reflected in the chrome, black, and red decor. I took the long way downstairs to where the girls were waiting, barely giving the booths full of snuggling couples a glance. However, I paid close attention to the packs of men on the prowl. They weren't the only ones hunting tonight. My earlier tub adventures and Wade's visit had left me hungry for more. And if I couldn't have him, then I'd just have to make do.

At our table (positioned strategically beside a set of stairs that led to the dance floor), the girls were already digging into appetizers and admiring the evening's early, yet so far slim, offerings. They both stopped eating long enough to hug me while we admired each other's outfits. Carlotta looked great, as usual, dressed in a multicolored, watered silk skirt and red halter top that showed off her natural tan and curly blond hair to perfection.

"Lanie, is that new?" Smiling, I motioned to the leopard print dress with turquoise trim that hugged her lush curves and swirled around her knees. Only Lanie would or could pull off leopard print. And with her chocolate brown hair, framing deep blue-green eyes, she pulled it off well. No one would ever guess that up until a few hours ago she'd probably been elbow deep in grease and engines.

"Just a little something I dug out of my closet." Her deep coral-colored lips curved into a Cheshire-cat grin as she crossed her legs.

"She went shopping," Carlotta and I chimed in unison.

I waved at Brian, our regular waiter, as he went breezing by, and hollered out my order for a Woo Woo-peach Schnapps, vodka, and cranberry juice-then settled on the vacant stool.

"Looks like she's not the only one who went shopping," Carlotta observed with a grin.

"I bought this two weeks ago, thank you very much!" I'd spotted the funky yellow, orange, and royal blue paisley outfit on a Sunday afternoon shopping expedition and hadn't been able to leave it behind. It went perfectly with my orange Christian Lacroix sandals.

I snitched a chicken egg roll off the platter in the middle of the small table, dipped it in some of Jimmy's homemade salsa duck sauce, and bit in with a sigh of appreciation as the spicy, tangy flavor filled my mouth. Jimmy Z's made the best egg rolls in all of Houston.

"So how was your day?" Carlotta asked while she scoped out the bar.

"I'll be so glad when this job is over!" I accepted my Woo Woo with a smile for Brian and handed him my credit card to run a tab. He was hot, but then most of the waitstaff at Jimmy's were. A crisp white T-shirt hugged his well-defined pecs and sharply creased black pants accented the rest of his assets.

"You ladies ready for something more substantial?" He pointed to our platter of appetizers, then wiggled an eyebrow at Carlotta, who giggled.

Indeed! My visit from Wade had definitely left me in the mood for something "more substantial."

I didn't miss Lanie's eye-rolling either. She'd had one of her notorious flings with Brian about six months back, but he'd refused to quit serving us. He probably did it just to irk her. But as long as we'd been coming here, he'd been our waiter; he was a great guy, even if he was too young for me. Whereas Lanie didn't discriminate on the basis of age-too much.

"I'm fine." With a soft sigh, I turned and scoped out the almost empty dance floor and tables surrounding it. It wasn't that I minded being single but sometimes it had its downside-though I'd decided long ago the good far outweighed the bad.

I didn't have to share my bed for more than a night if I didn't want to (and usually I didn't).

I could come and go as I pleased.

I didn't have to answer to anyone about money.

I didn't have to cook if I didn't feel like it.

I could ogle men to my heart's desire without someone getting jealous.

And if I got tired of a man, I just dumped him (no nasty divorces and splitting of assets to deal with).

I polished off the last of my egg roll and turned to Carlotta. "Did you finish up that wiring job today?"

She pursed her lips and nodded, an "it was a shitty day" look on her face.

"That bad, huh?"

"Have I told you how much I hate my new boss?" she asked with a curl of her lip.

"Noooo," I drawled, grinning.

"Asshole wants me to wire his nephew's office Monday for phones and Internet. God forbid I fuck that up." Carlotta's new boss was all we'd heard about for the last two months. He was, in her words, a control freak, who constantly felt the need to double-check her work and censure her for the slightest infractions, imagined or real. Never mind that she was the best field technician the company had, and had been there longer than he. Other than the fact she'd applied for his job (and been passed over for him, an outsider), none of us had been able to figure out what his beef was with her, so we'd decided he was just a Chauvinistic Pig.

"I swear to God, he wants me to quit!"

"Well, maybe you should," Lanie threw in. "You're too damn good to put up with that shit."

"Hell no! Why should I quit because he's got issues? He can just get the fuck over it." With a scowl, Carlotta slipped off her bar stool.

I gave her an understanding smile, then watched as she turned and headed downstairs toward the dance floor. Carlotta could wire damn near anything, from a small office phone system to a computer network for a multistory office building.

"I don't blame her a bit, you know," I sighed, scooping up a quesadilla filled with cheese, cilantro, and bits of pork. "She shouldn't have to quit because some asshole is determined to make her life miserable."

"Yeah, but you know how hardheaded she is. I wouldn't be surprised if she did stuff just to piss him off." Lanie thoughtfully sipped her dirty martini, focused on something-or someone-over my shoulder, while I polished off what amounted to my dinner.


She grinned and nodded to a spot behind me, pure female lust making her blue eyes sparkle. "Check him out."

With a grin of my own, I checked. Lanie might like 'em young, but she had really good taste in men. Not six feet away stood a tall slender young thang with dark hair and even darker eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at us and we waved and laughed.

"Back soon!" Lanie cheerfully announced as she circled around me and headed straight for him.

By the time I'd nursed my way through half of my second drink and let the girls drag my tired body onto the dance floor, the bar was packed. And the three of us were dancing to the Freestylers with any man brave enough to get close. After fifteen minutes Lanie had ditched Freddie, the sexy brunette with the baby face, and rejoined me, announcing he was only twenty-one. Even for a hottie like him she wouldn't break her ten-year rule. Besides, all he seemed to talk about was chicks-yes, he used the word chicks-cars, rims on cars and doing X (Ecstacy).

The Freestylers segued into No Doubt, something sexy for showing off, and I did, despite the fact that Lanie and Carlotta had now deserted me, claiming they were ready for a break.

Shyness had never been a problem for me and I was a good dancer. While Gwen Stefani sang, I danced, letting the sensuous rhythm of the sexy song roll through me. Before I knew it, I found myself pulled up on one of the podiums positioned at the end of the dance floor, grooving with a hot blonde in a psychedelic pink minidress.


Excerpted from HANDS ON by AMIE STUART Copyright © 2007 by Amie Stuart. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Sort by: Showing all of 2 Customer Reviews
  • Posted December 9, 2008

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    a reviewer

    ¿Lexi¿. In Houston thirty-four year old Lexi ¿Alex¿ Kimball works construction as an assistant job supervisor and safety supervisor. On weekends she enjoys clubbing with her friends. However, the new foreman Wade Watkins has been occupying her mind lately with thoughts of him occupying her body. He wants to meet her desires, but she rejects his advances as co-mingling leads to unemployment. ¿Lanie¿. Bi-sexual auto mechanic Lanie runs and owns Chick's Garage. When she meets and is attracted to white collar Jeff, she initially rejects him because her estranged family introduced him to her. Jeff persists as he thinks his white collar and her blue collar match quite well together. ¿Carlotta¿. Electrician Carlotta gets a charge out of clubbing on weekends with her pals. When she meets computer geek Devon she writes him off because she figures she would be the dominant one when she prefers being submissively girly off the job. However, when she meets Devon again at night, he has changed from Clark Kent to Super-dude. Now if he can gain her trust, they will have a loving relationship that will last much longer than the agreed upon two week trial. --- These three torrid novellas star female friends who work in predominently male jobs and the men who want them. Although the tales are somewhat interrelated, they stand alone with each focusing on a different type of sexual relationship. Erotic romance readers who prefer variety in their palate will appreciate Amie Stuart¿s HANDS ON. --- Harriet Klausner

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    Posted September 28, 2010

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