Excerpt: Copyrighted Material
A noise woke Summer. One moment she was dreaming of playing rugby with the All Blacks and the next her eyes sprang open, the fine hairs on her arms prickling in silent alarm. She froze, exhaling slowly while she listened.
There it was again—a muted sound that could be a footstep. Summer slid from bed, knowing she´d have to investigate or she'd never get any sleep.
Voices whispered down the passage outside her room. Summer froze. A light flashed briefly then shut off.
"Must be in one of the bedrooms."
The guttural whisper snapped Summer to attention. She crept noiselessly toward the window. The shutter clicked as she opened it. Loud enough that she froze again.
"I'll check in this room and the bathroom. You take the other two rooms."
"What about the girl?"
"You heard the boss. Do whatever's necessary to get the goods."
"Right."
Two of them. That didn't sound good. Healthy fear made Summer spring to action. She shoved the window open wide, no longer worrying about attracting attention. Footsteps sounded right outside her door. The door handle grated as it turned. Summer slithered out the window feet first. The sill dug into her stomach while her feet dangled two feet above Uncle Henry's prized rose garden. Not the best position to be in, but not as bad as being accosted by strange men in the middle of the night. Summer wriggled further over the windowsill and let go.
Rose thorns sliced at her calves, her thighs. Summer bit her bottom lip. Shit! That hurt. Well that would teach her to wear a skimpy nightgown to bed rather than the flannelette pajamas her mother had packed. She extricated herself from the grip of Tom Thumb, Uncle Henry's favorite rosebush, and limped toward Nikolai's house. Pique made her grimace and think in curses. Just her luck. Her first night alone, and she needed help. A great start to her bid for independence.
"She's not here."
Summer glanced over her shoulder and once again cursed her nightgown. The pale material stuck out like a Jersey bull in her mother's vegetable garden.
"She must be here."
Summer changed direction. She'd have to go around the back of Nikolai's house. She stepped up onto the verandah and almost fell through a broken board. Damn and blast.
"The window's open. Look out in the garden." The intruders' voices carried on the night air.
An open window beckoned, the sheer net curtains fluttering in the soft breeze. The voices moved closer, and Summer didn't hesitate. She dived through the window.
Something tackled her, sending her flying. Summer landed on her back in the middle of a mattress. The air hissed from her lungs as someone pinned her in place.
"Don't move," a harsh voice said next to her ear. A hand moved down her arm and across her chest, freezing when it came into contact with her breast. This time, the succinct Anglo-Saxon curse didn't raise so much as an eyebrow. The body pressing her into the bed moved, but not enough for her to draw a good lungful of air. A bedside lamp switched on. She blinked at the surge of bright light.
"You." Nikolai glared down at her. "What the devil are you doing in my bedroom?"
Summer swallowed. His hand was warm, and she felt her nipple hardening under his touch. Humiliation at her body's betrayal made her tense even as she savored the spike of sensation.
"Um...would you mind taking your hand off my breast?" The way her nipple was cozying into his palm—talk about a newsflash. Being this close to the man was unnerving, especially since he was the enemy. She refused to think about how good it would feel if he rearranged their bodies a fraction. Nope. She wasn't going there.
The furrow between his brows deepened. "Isn't that what you're here for?"
The innuendo made Summer stiffen even more. "Someone's broken into Uncle Henry's house."
"Why didn't you say so?" To Summer's intense relief, Nikolai moved off her. "Have you rung the police?"
"No. I..." Summer's voice trailed off as she took in the broad expanse of his naked chest. Oops, naked all over. Her gaze jumped northward again, but the vision of masculinity remained seared to her retinas. He looked so much better without clothes.
Nikolai rolled his eyes with the same masculine impatience her brothers exhibited when they thought she was acting blonde. "Never mind. Get in bed and stay warm. I'll take care of things."
He yanked on a pair of jeans and limped from the room before she could tell him what she thought of his verbal pat on the head. No way was she staying in his bed and missing out on the fun. She sprang from the mattress. This was more adventure than she'd ever imagined, and it was only her second day in Auckland.
Copyrighted Material
Buy This Book
Summer in the City of Sails by Shelley Munro
Amazon.com | Amazon.co.uk | Can't find it?
Reviews for "Summer in the City of Sails"
This book has not been reviewed.
Submit your review of this book to us.
