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What happens when two
people come down on the wrong side in the battle of the sexes? After a
disastrous engagement, Raine Winstead wants nothing more than anonymous
sex. Unfortunately, she chooses as her victim the most traditional of
men. Jack Bugalli believes in love, marriage and family.
Coming soon!!
An Excerpt From: CAN’T HIDE LOVE Copyright © ALICE GAINES, 2007 All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc. Jack Bugalli didn’t usually go for anonymous sex but if the woman at the end of the bar kept looking at him as though he was something to eat, he might make an exception. She’d sidled into The Dive half an hour before, looking like sin on wheels. A bit too much makeup—just the right amount too much—and clothes on the sexy side of tight. Full lips that went from smile to pout and back again in a heartbeat. Sultry eyes fringed with lashes so thick they made her eyelids heavy. She was a package, all right, and she could have had any of the men with a snap of her fingers. For some reason she’d singled him out for her looks and gestures that would make a saint weep. He could get lucky tonight. He could get laid, if he was the type for casual sex, which he wasn’t. Usually. But maybe for tonight he’d make an exception. Why not? He hadn’t had sex of any kind since the divorce. His poor John Thomas had had a long spell of celibacy and he didn’t like it one little bit. Time had come to take care of business. He rose from the barstool and the fabric of his jeans rubbed against his swelling erection. “Easy, boy,” he said softly enough that the sound of the local rock band drowned out his words. “Just a little of the old Bugalli charm and you’ll get what you need.” The woman smiled as he approached, then lowered her gaze, only to look back at him with an expression that was so full of promises it made his throat go dry. He smiled back—slow and easy. With any luck, two years of disastrous marriage hadn’t completely ruined his touch with women. “Can I buy you a drink?” he said. She cupped her ear, indicating she couldn’t hear him over the band. He took the opportunity to bend toward her until his lips almost brushed her temple. Thick auburn curls tickled the end of his nose and the scent of her perfume clouded his brain. “Can I buy you a drink?” he repeated. “I’m good,” she answered. She picked up her glass of white wine and took a sip, leaving the blood-red imprint of her lips on the edge of the glass. She was good, all right. “I don’t drink much,” she added. “Me neither,” he said, setting his half full beer onto the bar. “Dulls the senses. The senses are too important to let them get dull. You agree?” “I’m all for the senses,” he answered. And all five of his senses were slipping into overdrive. “Touch is one of my favorites, right after taste.” “Smell’s a good one too. And sight.” She glanced down to the front of his pants and her eyes widened for a split second. Right about now John Thomas would be making his presence known against the denim of his jeans. There’d be no mistaking anymore where this conversation was headed. If she wanted to back out, she’d do it now. She did turn on her stool to face the dance floor and a flush crept along her cheeks. Oh hell. If he’d lost her, he’d never get rid of an erection this insistent. He’d have to take care of things himself. Only why had she bothered to get him so hot if she wasn’t interested? After a minute, she rested her elbows against the bar and leaned back. The action pushed her breasts up against the knit fabric of her little black dress. The breasts in question were small but sweetly rounded. He could even make out the shape of her nipples. Damn, if she was going to do that and still didn’t want him, he’d better get out of here fast. Before he made a fool of himself. She looked out the corners of her eyes at his jeans again and then up at him. The smoldering come-on was back. “You dance?” she asked. “Some.” “Would you like to dance some with me?” “Oh yeah.” She set her wineglass on the bar and rose. Jack was a good six foot two but her chin easily reached his shoulder. Part of her height came from the pointed heels of her shoes but part of it came from yards and yards of legs. Oh yeah. She was going to fit against him just right. He placed a palm at the small of her back and led her onto the dance floor. The band had broken into a ballad—something slow and smooth, just right for some belly-to-belly action. When they got to the center of the crowd, he turned her and pulled her into his arms. Here in the crush of dozens of other bodies, what exactly went on between his body and hers was their secret. Sex—or near sex—right out in the open and then he’d take her home and treat her to everything she’d been asking for. She twined her arms around his neck and melted against him. He almost groaned as her softness molded itself to him from knees to shoulders. “What’s your name?” he asked, mostly for something—anything—to say. “Why don’t you call me Jane?” “Is that your name?” “Does it matter?”
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