Read an Excerpt
Some men had it. Some didn’t. Amanda Petersen watched as Preston Miller slid his soaked white tee up his flat abs, trying to tease the camera as she’d instructed.
Note to self—Kill Kiki tomorrow.
The fifth annual charity calendar for Cancer Cure was coming up and Kiki Long headed the fundraising council. Upon taking the position, she’d manipulated her friendship with Amanda and coerced her into doing the entire photo shoot for free. And the models she’d assigned weren’t something to be desired.
This year’s theme was Red Hot Firemen. And so far, Amanda had only seen the red and firemen portion of that theme. Hot had yet to grace her presence.
Preston grinned, nodding his head as if what he offered belonged on the cover of GQ. In her humble opinion, what he offered didn’t belong in the local newspaper Chronicles of Hope much less the annual charity calendar everyone for miles supported.
Okay, that was harsh, but this was Preston. The same Preston she’d grown up with who loved to annoy her as much as tease her about dating him. He wasn’t exactly model material even if he did have a decent face.
But then again Hope, Texas didn’t have much to offer. The ladies around usually grew up with the men who now acted more like brothers than lovers. And the lovers they did have burned them to the point that they thought all men in Hope were scum. Half of Amanda’s past lovers had only made homeruns because her need was high and there was nothing else to do in this town. And having nothing to do, she’d developed this hobby and discovered a talent for photography.
Take the good with the bad.
“You want me, Mandy, admit it.” Preston licked his lips suggestively. “You know I can make you scream your throat raw.”
Amanda clicked the shutter closed, finished with her shots. “Not in this lifetime, Miller. Hell has a better chance of freezing over.”
Preston dropped his shirt, disappointed. “You say that now, but you’ll be the one wanking when you’re all alone tonight.”
Amanda turned, rolling her eyes. “Who says I’ll be alone tonight?”
Amanda checked the list of models. The only one she lacked was chief fire fighter, Bradley Thomas, and her panties creamed at the very sight of his name. Six foot four of nothing but a gorgeous, hard, muscle-bound man, Brad’s job fit him perfectly. Amanda couldn’t help picturing his strong arms wrapped around her, protective and sheltering as he pulled her to safety.
Two years ago, Amanda’s house had caught fire and Brad had rescued her. The quiet type, he’d modestly claimed to be doing his job, but she knew he’d saved her life. To this day, she still reminisced about him seeing her in her lavender panty set when he barged in her room and woke her from her exhausted state. He’d grabbed her robe, wrapped her in it and carried her outside, cradled in his arms.
Amanda sighed, taking the film from her camera and reloading it. Super-shy Brad had only spoken a friendly “hello” to her since then, and it frustrated her more than words could proclaim. She liked him and he barely noticed her.