Author: M.J. O’Shea
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: L.C. Chase
Length: 200 Pages
Release Date: 27th April, 2015
Blurb: Corbin Ford, aka the Nightwatchman, named for the antique pocket watches he leaves behind at jobs, has been in the cat-burgling business for years. His father was. His grandfather was. His mother is still one of the most renowned thieves. Corbin likes his high-profile heists, priceless paintings from private collections, artifacts from museums, but his favorite? Jewels. Sparkly, beautiful jewels. If they’re famous, better yet.
Interpol agent Luke Eldridge has one goal and one goal only: to catch the Nightwatchman. Luke’s been after him for months, but getting the slip time and again is getting embarrassing. Luke has never even laid eyes on the bastard, but he’d happily strangle him. And then arrest him.
When Luke meets Corbin, the man of his dreams, he falls hard and fast… only to catch Corbin red-handed with his hand in a jewelry case at the scene of the highest-profile murder that’s rocked the international world in years.
He didn’t know if it had a name other than random corner gay pub. All Luke knew was there was usually some boy there who had a thing for weathered government types from the States, and he rarely left without getting exactly what he wanted. It was crowded for midweek, way more than usual. He’d have thought the thick wet cold would’ve kept the boys at home, but maybe they were all out for someone to help warm their beds, just like he was.
The music was kept at a dull roar, supposedly so people could hear each other speak—as if any of them were actually interested in conversation. It was all about looks, clothes, hair… finding a guy who either did it for them physically or smacked of money. Hopefully both. Luke wasn’t rich exactly, but he was a well-paid government employee with a nice suit. He also thought he might have that tall, dark, and handsome thing going. A few of the boys looked his way the minute he walked through the door. Too young, too high, too much trouble. Not interested in any of them, thanks.
“Hi, Damien,” Luke said when he got to the bar.
Damien was adorable, but probably not much older than twenty-five. They’d had a brief flirtation a year or so back before he decided one or two nights was fine, but he wasn’t getting into something real with a kid no matter how good his martinis were.
“Usual?” Damien asked. Luke got his typical sunny grin so he didn’t think Damien minded that they’d never gone anywhere past act two of their one-night stand.
“Cold tonight, innit?”
Luke wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but he forced a smile. “Good thing it’s a short walk from my flat.”
“I remember.” He couldn’t tell if it was a jab or not, but Damien kept mixing his drink and then slid it across the bar to him. “On the house.”
“Are you serious?” Luke asked.
“Sure. You haven’t been in here for a while. If you haven’t noticed, you’re good for business. Popular with the locals and all that.”
“You’re fit.” Damien winked and gestured toward a group of what had to be teenagers checking him out. He still hadn’t gotten used to the fact that there were eighteen-year-olds crawling around the clubs in England. Made him feel like a grandpa. Luke took a long swig of his drink and hoped the barely pubescent blondie in the corner wasn’t about to make the move Luke thought he might be considering.
“Been busy?” he asked. Better Damien than the barely legal brigade.
“Can’t complain.” He shrugged. “It’s always better in the summer, but I’ve been busy enough. You?”
“Always.” Damien thought Luke worked in a bank. His job wasn’t secret per se. He just didn’t typically tell people he’d met casually. Easier that way. Banker was nice and boring. Nobody tended to ask too many questions about it. While his job wasn’t confidential, a lot of the cases he worked on were. Bedside or bar-side, talk couldn’t include the suspects he was trailing across England and sometimes Europe. That’s why he was Luke Eldridge, banker, if anyone asked.
Luke felt someone slide onto the stool next to him. And by felt he meant that in that one second, his whole body reacted. Before he even turned around, he knew that was his guy. The one he’d end up taking home that night. Instincts like Luke’s took years to hone, and he was rarely wrong.
Their arms brushed together lightly. The hairs rose on the back of Luke’s neck but not like when he sensed danger. It was pleasure. At some stranger’s light touch. He tried not to shiver visibly as he glanced over.
“Sorry, man.” The guy’s voice was honey-soft and cultured. What it wasn’t, was English.
Luke turned all the way around to look at the newcomer. “You’re American.” He grinned.
As much as he was used to the sounds of London, it was still nice to be surprised by a familiar accent on a stranger. A hot stranger. The guy was older than a lot of the crowd, probably past thirty, hair the same golden-honey color as his voice, high cheekbones, big brown eyes, long eyelashes, and generous pink lips. Luke wanted to kiss him because, hell, since when had he reacted to someone so quickly and completely? They needed to kiss, if only to test the insane chemistry thrumming through Luke’s veins. Probably a little too soon for kissing, instincts aside. A few minutes of chitchat oughta do the trick, though.
“Born and raised. Just moved here a few months ago. You?”
“I’ve been in London for years. I go back to the States for the holidays sometimes. I miss the sun,” Luke answered.
“Where are you from?”
Luke knew the guy didn’t care any more than he really cared about much past his pillowed lips and soft drawl. It was part of the game. Trade a few insignificant details, enough so it was acceptable to take each other’s clothes off.
“South Carolina. Outside of Charleston,” Luke said.
“New Yorker, myself.”
Even if every part of him was softly appealing, Luke decided he liked the guy’s voice the best. He didn’t sound like a New Yorker. He talked slow and his voice was warm and a little growly, like he’d spent the night in a smoky jazz bar sipping whiskey. Luke wondered what it would sound like moaning his name.
“I’m Luke.” He stuck out his hand.
“Corbin.” Instead of a shake, Corbin picked up Luke’s hand and brushed his lips across suddenly sensitive knuckles. More shivers swept through Luke. If his famous intuition was right, and he seriously doubted it was wrong, he and this guy were wasting time they could be spending naked and wound up in each other in his bed rather than a loud pub. But he would do the flirting, buy the drinks. Luke didn’t want to make anyone feel cheap unless they were into that sort of thing.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked. “You look like a whisky sour kind of guy.”
Corbin smiled. It transformed his face from pleasant to drop-dead gorgeous. Luke wished he had one of those magical smiles. “You nailed it. What did you say your job was again?”
“I didn’t,” Luke answered. “Banking. Bit of a bore, but it pays well.”
“Security systems and safes. Same.” Corbin shrugged delicately. His shoulders weren’t broad. He was quite petite actually but perfectly formed. He would look gorgeous all tiny and golden against bright white sheets. Underneath Luke.
Luke gestured for Damien to come over, and he ordered Corbin his drink. Damien looked a little annoyed, and Luke figured he had a right. It was a tiny bit tacky to rope a new guy right in front of his old one. Oh well. Damien probably did very well for himself, and they hadn’t slept together in months. There was no way anyone was gonna convince Luke that Damien had just held it in all that time. There was also no way anyone was gonna convince him not to take Corbin home that night either.
Corbin sipped his drink and subtly moved closer to Luke. Luke probably wasn’t supposed to notice, but he did. He tended to notice most things. Part of the job, he supposed. He noticed how warm Corbin’ skin smelled, and how his sandy hair fell over what really were quite remarkable eyes, warm and gold with long curly lashes that were at least three shades darker than his hair.
“Hmmm?” Luke asked. He’d been caught staring. He supposed it was at least a little bit socially acceptable since they were currently about two inches away from crawling into each other’s laps.
“For the drink.”
“Oh, you’re welcome. I’d like it if you returned the favor sometime.” He wasn’t going to play coy.
“If you stay around for a few minutes, I will.”
“I plan on it.” Luke took a sip of his half-empty drink. “You have beautiful eyes,” he murmured.
“Charmer,” Corbin said with a small grin.
Luke shrugged. “Just noticed. I’m sure most people do.”
Corbin rolled his eyes. “You’d be surprised what the men here don’t notice. Basically anything outside my pants or my wallet.”
“Their loss,” Luke said.
He felt weird, like he was being sucked into this thick warm vortex. He wasn’t usually like this, all charm and slick phrases. He didn’t have to be. If anything it was typically businesslike. Just a few required phrases, maybe a drink or two before they were on their way. As much as he’d reacted to Corbin, nearly from the first moment, he found himself wanting to take his time and sink into it, enjoy every moment until their clothes were littered on his bedroom floor, and they were a sweaty, sated mess. That moment was coming. He knew it had to be.
I’m Mj O’Shea:) I grew up, and still live, in sunny Washington state and while I love to visit other places, I can’t imagine calling anywhere else home.
I spent my childhood writing stories. Sometime in my early teens, the stories turned to romance. Most of those were about me, my friends, and our favorite movie and pop stars. Hopefully, I’ve come a long way since then.
When I’m not writing, I love to play the piano, dance, cook, paint pictures, and of course read! I like sparkly girly girl things, own at least twenty different colored headbands, and I have two little dogs who sit with me when I write. Sometimes they comes up with ideas for me too…when they’re not busy napping.
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/M.J.-OShea/e/B003XERT7M/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1427433101&sr=8-2-ent
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