It’s never too early to see what’s coming next, right? Here’s the cover and copy for LEAVE ME BREATHLESS (Brava, March 2010):
PERMISSION TO APPROACH
According to Judge Bennett Walker, trying to kill him is a dumb idea. They might make him wear a big black nightgown to work, but it covers a lot of muscles, and he’s definitely packing beneath it. He’s also an ex-prosecutor and an ex-GI Joe. So when his brother brings in Callie Robbins to protect him, Ben has a few issues. First, he doesn’t need a bodyguard. Second, she’s a 130-pound girl—more smoking hot than smoking gun. And third, what if his body wants her guarding the night shift?
Callie has no problem brushing aside Ben’s disbelief. She left the FBI to escape the boys’ club, but she can be deeper undercover and twice as lethal as any beefy John Doe. As for whether someone’s after Bennett or not, the death threats and car bombs look pretty convincing to Callie. Of course, she might get distracted, sitting inches from the sexiest judge in DC for ten hours a day. Keeping him safe is no picnic. Keeping it professional—that might be impossible.
_________
Excerpt from Chapter One:
“I don’t need a bodyguard.” Judge Bennett Walker delivered his observation as he unclipped the top of his black robe and stripped the garment off his shoulders.
Callie Robbins had to fight hard to keep from rolling her eyes. Three denials in two minutes. Yeah, she got it. The big tough guy in the flower print tie somehow thought he could stop a bullet simply by pretending it didn’t exist.
Gavel or not, she was not a fan of pigheaded stupidity, even if it did come in a six-foot-three package of smoldering eye candy. And this guy had the smoking hot thing down. A square jaw and light brown hair that fell in a soft line over his forehead were just the beginning of the impressive package. She’d heard about the broad shoulders he hid under the required work outfit. Watching his white shirt pull across his chest, she now could vouch for his linebacker form. Thirty-eight and sat on his butt all day but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on the guy that she could tell.
Still, all of the idol worship surrounding him in the Circuit Court for Montgomery County, Maryland, struck her as overkill. From what she could tell, Ben Walker was a prosecutor-turned judge-turned-superstar in the uber-wealthy area north of Washington, D.C. He wielded a heap of power and had all of the female courthouse clerks scurrying around to catch a peek at him. But, really, he was just a man. And from Callie’s one-hundred-twenty seconds of experience, a very stubborn one.
“If there’s nothing else…” Ben let his voice trail off as he slid into his oversized leather desk chair.
Callie didn’t bother to respond to the not-so-subtle dismissal because he wasn’t talking to her. Hell, he hadn’t even sent a small glance in her direction since she’d dodged his gaggle of admirers in the outer office to follow him into his private chambers. No, the judge saved all of this wrath and attention for the other man in the room, his older brother by one year, Mark Walker.
“This isn’t up for discussion, Ben.” Mark said in a clear attempt at reason. “You have a target on your back.”
“I’m not the one in danger.”
Since the judge hadn’t acknowledged her presence except for a brief nod after Mark’s introduction, Callie decided to force the issue. She was standing right there next to the judge. Hard to imagine he could miss her, what with his big brain and all.
“Did you forget the part where someone blew up your car?” she asked.
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