Zeke's Hands Right from the start, Sara fights her attraction to co-worker, Zeke Rutherford. But when it comes to Zeke, the thirty-something Sara has a case of lust that just won’t go away— no matter how desperately she struggles to ignore it. He may be too young…too tall…too everything, but her traitorous sex-drive couldn’t care less. Every time she gets close to the sinfully sexy young engineer, it knows what it wants…and it wants it NOW. When Sara finds herself working hip-to-hip with the young stud, she soon realizes Zeke is one temptation she’s helpless to resist. Zeke has the distinct impression Sara Walker has no idea she’s hot, or exactly how hot she is—but he’s determined to make certain she finds out. She may try to treat him like a kid but he figures that won’t last long after she gets a taste of him. Sara Walker is going down, he’s decided. On him. Intent on conquest, at first Zeke overlooks Sara’s reckless behavior. But the morning after, when he’s hanging from a crane in the middle of an electrical storm, he begins to learn the troubling truth about Sara. When it comes to her work, the woman is reckless to the point of no return. And when Schueller Engineering is offered a project in bomb- torn Iraq, guess who’s the first to volunteer? Zeke finds himself racing against time to discover the cause of Sara’s irresponsible disregard for danger, before she takes it too far and he loses her for good. The biggest obstacle is that concrete wall she’s built around herself to protect her heart. But one way or another, he’s determined to work his way into this woman’s life, and prove to her once and for all that her heart is safe…in Zeke’s hands. |
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| Cover Art by Syneca |
Excerpt There were several things wrong with Zeke Rutherford, perhaps the foremost of which was the fact she worked with him. Not the least of which was the fact that, at twenty-three, he was way too young for her. Add all that to the fact that he was tall—too tall—at six-four. Six-four, she mused as she swung in her chair. He looked taller. “Ms. Walker. Sara?” Sara swung to face the doorway of her small office, and raised her eyes the length of Zeke Rutherford—and reminded herself she didn’t like having to stretch for a kiss. It didn’t take a big man to satisfy her, she further reminded herself. Her current boyfriend was living proof of that fact. One of his fingers should do nicely, though, she thought. Geez. His middle finger was as long as—Ericson’s dick. Sara fought the urge to lower her eyes down Zeke’s body as she wondered just how much living proof he might have to offer. “Would you review these expenses with me? The form’s pretty straightforward,” he said, pushing into the room before she could respond. “But it’s my first attempt and I’d like a senior engineer to take a look at it.” He probably didn’t notice her wince at the word “senior”. She took a breath and wished her office were larger, because when Zeke Rutherford was in it, there wasn’t room to breathe. The form was straightforward, and certainly nothing a recent graduate of Cal State couldn’t handle, but she stood and smiled, reaching for the papers in his hand. With eleven-point-five inches of maneuvering room on the length of the paper, she couldn’t manage to get the sheaf out of his grasp without brushing his fingers. But then he had big hands she reasoned, with long fingers—long, thick, made-for-a-woman fingers. Realizing she was staring at his hands, she cut to his face and quickly realized that was a mistake. She gazed into eyes that couldn’t decide whether they were gold or brown, but were decidedly nice, particularly when they were backlit with laughter as they were now. Perhaps she stared a bit too long because his lips turned up at the edges and her eyes were now drawn in that direction. His lips were extraordinarily full and that shouldn’t have looked good on a man, but somehow it did—on him anyhow. Very ordinary brown hair curled around the bottom of his ears. Very ordinary, she reminded herself. Perfectly ordinary. Geez. She dropped into her chair and scanned his numbers while he pulled a chair close to hers in her very small office. Which felt like it was rapidly shrinking. She nodded her head. “Looks good. Looks perfect,” she said. And it was. She pushed it at him, anxious to get him out of her office. He leaned forward over the form, and she watched his long finger slide to a number on the page. At the same time, she felt his knee slide against her thigh. Oh, man. The guy was all legs. Pulling back in her chair, she increased the margin between their bodies. “Then I’ve expensed these batteries properly? They shouldn’t be charged to the client?” His voice was warm and deep, causing a tingle to generate along the length of her spine. A little shiver of excitement originated at the nape of her neck and shot down her backbone accelerating along the trunk route on its way to the juncture of her legs. A juggernaut of warmth pulled in between her legs, parked and started cranking up the RPMs. Her fingers tightened on the desk’s edge as the reverberations raced through her body and rattled her heart. Yes, yes, anything, she thought. Just move along, Cal State. She gave him a supportive smile. She was old enough to be his—babysitter, twenty years ago. “Looks perfect,” she repeated, and watched his back out the door. Perfect, she thought, and concluded she had been born exactly eleven years too soon. For—although there were several things wrong with Zeke Rutherford—everything else about him was perfect. |
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madison hayes
Zeke's Hands
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