Pryde and Precious: http://amzn.to/1K1aqde
Press Paws: http://amzn.to/1nQ5Zb7
Finding Luke: http://amzn.to/1SvNbL6
Bite Me: http://amzn.to/1SvNeGU
Bad Moon Rising: http://amzn.to/1SvNgyy
Pryde & Precious
Arianna Ferrars, a minor telepath, might be a skilled botanist, but her specialty is in the marriage of genomes to create vibrant blooms—not recombinant DNA for scent. When senior researcher on the scent project disappeared, Arianna finds herself facing a new task. With only a handful of samples and a rapidly approaching deadline, Arianna needs a crash course in chemistry from military attaché Colonel Brandon.
Working undercover among the humans gives John Brandon access to the latest potential threats against the clans. When Project Pryde crosses his desk, he makes it his business to find out why a psi clan wants to work with high-level human chemists. Intercepting their request and supplying his information, he sets out to seduce the lovely Arianna Ferrars in order to learn everything she knows.
The last thing the white tiger expects to find in the delicate plant specialist is a treasure more precious than any science.
Pryde & Precious Excerpt
Where the meditation exercises failed, the yoga succeeded. Pushing her body to stretch and hold the poses, increased her focus. Once she finished the workout, her next task would be to locate and set up a laboratory where she could work. For the time being, she could not return to her greenhouses. Frustrating, but understandable. She could continue to work with the samples of her hybrids at the apartment—she wasn’t giving up all her work for their secretive project—but she would need somewhere else to compile the data and put theory into practice.
The trick would be to find the right place with the right equipment without anyone to fuss or spy on her. Perhaps an isolated cabin in the middle of nowhere? For a moment, she smiled. The last pose was a warrior’s prayer. Thirty minutes of consistent push and pull left her muscles warm and sweat dampened her skin. Perhaps that should be a request to her superiors. Where did they want her to do the work?
The moment the thought took root, she ripped it out. They might want her to come to a secure facility, under lock and key with video cameras. A shudder pulsed through her. The constant observation would be worse than all the people there.
No, they handed her the project. It was up to her to figure it out how to execute it.
Retrieving a bottle of water, she shut off the workout video and hydrated. What she wanted to do was go work in her garden for a while, transplant her seedlings, and perhaps move one of her zinnias from the dark and cold into the sun. It didn’t matter, she had to do what she’d been ordered to do.
Knocks on her door sent a wild skitter of panic racing through her system.
Her heart rate climbed, and she retreated a half-dozen steps to stare at the closed door. It was too early for mail. She received packages regularly, but they had a lockbox for those. The mailman usually put a key in her box to let her know if she had something larger. He only knocked when she’d ordered in an item too large to fit.
But she’d made no such orders. Her neighbors didn’t knock—they kept odd hours like she did, and they didn’t bother her. Another knock kept her riveted in place. Maybe it was one of those door-to-door salesmen? They came through periodically, though the management often tried to run them off when spotted.
At the third knock, she despaired of them giving up and simply going away. Tip-toeing to the door, she peeked through the peephole. A tall man with a broad chest filled her view. He wore a crisp white shirt and had dark, tousled hair. A hint of stubble darkened his jaw and a pair of stunning blue eyes seemed to gaze right at her. He tilted his head, as though aware of her observation and, for a brief moment, she forgot how to breathe.
From the perfect symmetry of his eyes to the gorgeous perfection of his square jaw and stubborn chin, he was a beautiful man. She’d definitely seen good looking men before in movies and on television, but never on the other side of her door. The line of his nose gave him an almost aristocratic bearing and his full, firm lips curved into the barest hint of a smile.
“Miss Ferrars? If you have a moment, I’d like to speak to you.” A deep voice, like hot syrup, poured over her and she let out a squeak. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she retreated from spying on him and swallowed hard.
The damn startled sound already betrayed her presence, so she cobbled together the threads of her courage. “Who are you?”
“My name is John Brandon. I’m here about your email to Rynodyne Chemical.” Rynodyne? She’d sent that email earlier in the day.
“You said it would take at least seventy-two hours to get back to me.” How dare they send someone to her door? “An email would have sufficed.” What had Simon gotten her into?
“I apologize for my abrupt arrival; however, I was deeply curious about your project and the questions you asked. I thought I could help more in person.” So much patience radiated in his voice—patience and assurance. It offered her comfort she had no business accepting.
“You can answer the email. That’s more than sufficient.” She retreated another step, but she couldn’t tell if he was still there or not.
“Miss Ferrars, I understand this is a little unorthodox.”
“A little?” Incensed, she glared at the door. “Mr. Brandon, I have no idea why you thought knocking on my door would be anything but a bad idea. How did you get my address anyway? I didn’t…” Her gut clenched. She hadn’t provided any of that.
“Hell…” The curse should have been a warning. Her door handle turned with a crunch and then the security bolt gave when he slammed it inward. One moment he was outside the door, the next he was in.
Panic strangled her. The world darkened, and she did the worst thing possible.