Welcome to the world of Shelby Stewart, P.I., who’s been hired to find Harrison Grant. To complicate matters further, her ex-partner, ex-lover, ex-everything Tank shows up looking for Harrison as well, albeit for a very different reason. Harry’s the prime suspect in the grisly murder of a call girl, Lulu, in L.A.
That wouldn’t be so bad, but Tank plans on staying at Shelby’s house, and makes it obvious he’s quite willing to help her heat the sheets, again. Shelby knows that sex with Tank is dangerous, fast and sometimes a little dirty. Now is not the time to become sidetracked. Besides, this job could launch her company into a whole new stratosphere, so it’s imperative she remain focused.
Frustration becomes Shelby’s newest partner as she makes plans to out-manoeuvre Tank in their parallel quest. Tank, on the other hand, is always one step ahead of the game—and is not what, or whom, Shelby thought.
Places to purchase:
The sound of balls being racked floated up the stairs. Tank had gone for it. I knew he would. This was going to be like shooting fish in a barrel, he wouldn’t know what hit him. Feeling smug, I went into the kitchen and prepared the drinks.
I estimated an ounce of rum for each drink and poured it over ice cubes, followed by some cola. For extra insurance, I threw another splash of rum into Tank’s glass.
A quick rummage through the medicine cabinet and I located the sleeping pills Polly had given me, and shook out two little blue capsules. They were kind of small and Tank was pretty big, so I added one more. Three should keep him out of the way until I was safely in the air, enjoying an in-flight beverage. After breaking them open, I poured the powder into his glass and threw the tiny casings in the garbage.
It took only a few seconds to stir the dark liquid before heading downstairs and handed Tank his, placing mine on the bar behind him. I walked over to the wall-mounted rack and grabbed my cue stick. Confidence surged through me.
“Here’s to me kicking your ass.” I tapped my drink against his and watched him take a nice long sip. I hid a smile against my glass and enjoyed a sip too. It tasted good. Tasted like victory.
Tank placed his drink on the bar and walked over to the table, and lined up his shot. With a quick, powerful hit, two balls sank.
He prowled around the table, analyzing all angles, and then sank one, two, three balls in a row. I sipped my rum while I watched. Two balls left on the table and he missed his fourth shot.
With a slight shrug, he turned to face me. “Let’s see what you got, darlin’.”
“Ha. What I got is a can of whoop ass I’m about to open up on you. Stand aside.”
I chalked my cue stick while I walked around, checking out the lay of the table. Now, I was pretty good at pool; I had to be. In my line of work, you hung out at bars and pool halls, talking to people, and I’d picked up a few tricks. So I made some fancy bank shots; double backs and sank four in a row.
As a nasty treat, I left the white cue ball tucked behind one of my remaining balls. The only way he could make the shot was by hitting the cue ball all the way down the length of the table, strike a precise, exact location and roll back, just kissing his ball to go into the pocket.
Laughing outright I said, “Let’s see you get out of this one, big boy.” I toasted him with my drink again.
“I’ve gotten in and out of tighter spots than this. You should know.” A wolfish grin crossed his lips.
Oh my. There was that smouldering look again.
He threw back about half his rum, put down the glass, then lined up his shot. Slow and deliberate he pulled the cue stick back—looked directly at my left breast—licked his lips, and made the freaking shot!
I levelled a narrow glance at him. How long would it take for those pills to kick in? He was making some pretty impressive shots, and if he won I’d have to remove a piece of clothing. I only had on five things. A pair of jeans, tee shirt, underwear and my watch. Maybe he’d let me take off the watch. Nah, this was Tank, it would be clothing.
Standing rules between Tank and I are this: in strip poker or in this instance strip pool, we played best of three. When one person lost two, the game was called, and the winner got whatever he, or she, wanted.
He dropped his seventh ball no problem and my eyes widened as he called and pocketed the eight ball, back left corner.
Uh oh. There were still three of my balls on the table.
Grabbing the hem of my shirt, I went remove it. Tank would get an eyeful of the girls while I played. Hopefully, he’d be off balance for the next round.
A tap on my arm and I looked down. Tank’s cue stick rested on my forearm and I followed the smooth line of the glossy stick until my gaze reached his face. Amusement shone out of his eyes as he shook his head and with the cue stick, pointed to my jeans. I should have known. Tank has always been an ass man.
From the age of four, Madison has been an avid reader. Many fond memories are of walking to the local library, reading everything she could find. In high school, she penned quirky stories for class assignments, and was often called upon to read them in class. No one escaped her caustic wit—not even the dreaded English teacher, Mr. Cooney. Madison still graduated….
According to Plan is Madison’s debut full length novel. She has three steamy, erotic short stories published by her publisher’s erotic imprint, Sapphire Nights Books, including her ARe Top Reader Rated and Bestseller, The Perfect Secretary. If you’d like to contact Madison, or find out more about her and her books check out her website.
Madison is giving away one eBook copy of According To Plan. So make sure you fill out the Rafflecopter form and leave a comment with an email address.