Christmas Hookup

Excerpt:
He had the nicest ass she’d seen in a long time. Of course, he had the only ass she’d seen in Wranglers in more years than she really wanted to count. His long legged stride was slow and casual, which is why she was still keeping pace with him, albeit a few steps behind. So far, his nice tight ass in the snug jeans was the only good thing about coming home for Christmas.

A sigh escaped her and she glanced up at the cloudless sky. It was a strange midnight blue and the stars were really bright and shiny. In the city, the sky never looked like this. Too much ambient light. Too much smog. Elle had forgotten how different the world was in her hometown.

The toe of her Stuart Weitzman pump hit something hard and she pitched forward. Her hands flailed, seeking anything that would break her fall. They landed on corded muscle, a hard chest covered by a leather jacket. The man walking in front of her must have heard her “Oomph!” and turned just in time to catch her.

She looked up into a pair of gorgeous sky blue eyes. The man smiled at her as he settled her on her feet and picked up her expensive leather clutch purse. He handed it to her and she gazed up at him in stark wonder.

“You okay?” he drawled.

She nodded, struck dumb by his beauty for a moment. He looked just like all his ads, only minus the Stetson. Tonight, his glossy brown hair gleamed in the moonlight. She stroked her hands over her narrow skirt, her eyes held by his.

“You weren’t in my class, were you?” he asked thoughtfully. “I woulda remembered if you were.”

“I was a couple of years ahead of you,” she husked.

He nodded as if he knew. “So why are you at this reunion gathering?”
She jerked her head toward the country club. “I came with Ann-Marie. She is in your class.”

His beautiful mouth quirked up in a grin. “I swear she’s the only one who got lucky tonight too. I’m Riley Forbes.”

He held out his hand and she shook it automatically, trying to ignore the heat that flared through her body as her palm touched his. “I know. You’re a supermodel, so every hetero woman on the planet knows who you are,” she grinned. “I’m Elle McAndrews.”

“Elle like in the Legally Blonde movies?” One dark brow quirked up.

She grimaced. “It’s really Ellen, but that name only works for lesbians with talk shows. For everyone else, it’s just boring.”

Riley nodded, his smile still in place. “Elle suits you. Feminine, but strong. I like it.” He looked back at the brightly lit country club. “Well then, Elle who is not a lesbian, if Anne-Marie is staying, you don’t happen to need a ride, do you?”