Driven To Distraction (Road to Love #1) Read online

  When desire gets this hot, you’d better buckle up...

  Mary Daniels doesn’t let anything get in the way of her job acquiring rare artifacts for her wealthy boss. But this particular obstacle—huge, hard-muscled, unashamedly masculine—is impossible to ignore. Stuck in a cramped car with Brodie Crews for hours en route to their new assignment, Mary feels her carefully crafted persona—and her trademark self-control—is slipping, and she won’t allow it.

  Brodie can’t imagine what secret in Mary’s past has left her so buttoned-up, though he’d dearly love to find out. Maybe then she’d trust him enough to explore their explosive chemistry. But he needs this job, so he’ll play by her rules and bide his time...until an enemy determined to outwit them strikes and he needs to get close—in every way—to protect her. Otherwise they could lose much more than a precious collectible. They could lose it all.

  Praise for New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster

  “Foster is a master at writing a simmering romance, and Fast Burn is no different.”

  —USA TODAY’s Happy Ever After blog

  “Hot enough to start a fire!... A delicious and dangerous tale that proves why Foster is one of the best in the genre.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Fast Burn

  “Teasing and humorous dialogue, sizzling sex scenes, tender moments, and overriding tension show Foster’s skill as a balanced storyteller.’’

  —Publishers Weekly on Under Pressure (starred review)

  “Best friends find hunky men and everlasting love in Foster’s latest charmer.... Her no-fail formula is sure to please her fans.”

  —Publishers Weekly on Don’t Tempt Me

  “Foster brings her signature blend of heat and sweet to her addictive third Ultimate martial arts contemporary.”

  —Publishers Weekly on Tough Love (starred review)

  “Emotionally spellbinding and wicked hot.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Lora Leigh on No Limits

  “Storytelling at its best! Lori Foster should be on everyone’s auto-buy list.”

  —#1 New York Times bestselling author Sherrilyn Kenyon on No Limits

  “Foster’s writing satisfies all appetites with plenty of searing sexual tension and page-turning action in this steamy, edgy, and surprisingly tender novel.”

  —Publishers Weekly on Getting Rowdy

  “A sexy, believable roller coaster of action and romance.”

  —Kirkus Reviews on Run the Risk

  “Steamy, edgy, and taut.”

  —Library Journal on When You Dare

  DRIVEN TO DISTRACTION

  Lori Foster

  www.harlequinbooks.com.au

  To my son, J.Z. Foster,

  First, after having you live in South Korea for eight long years, making do with twice-yearly visits, FaceTime, phone calls and emails, it’s amazing to have you back home in the States! My daughter-in-law is absolutely wonderful and I adore my granddaughter so very, very much. It’s a true blessing to expand the family in such a beautiful way.

  Second, oh, how I love having another writer in the family!

  I’m incredibly proud of your talents and I’m thrilled for your successes. Even though we’re in two different genres—me with romance and you with horror/urban fantasy—it’s still super fun to discuss authorly experiences, compare notes, share promo and such.

  I love you, J.Z. Thank you for being you!

  Your mama,

  Lori Foster

  Dear Reader,

  Back when I started the Men of Honor series, I didn’t plan for it to overlap through a secondary character with the Love Undercover series. But it did. And I didn’t plan for the Love Undercover series to trickle over to the Ultimate series through another secondary character but again—it did. AND (are you detecting a pattern?) I didn’t expect “extra” characters from the Ultimate series to demand yet another series, but...they did, so I wrote the Body Armor series.

  You, dear readers, are the reason why that pattern happened, because when you write and ask about stories for other characters, it’s like a kick to my muse, making me turn secondary characters into heroes. Not always, but obviously, quite often. I loved writing all those series, and I loved all those characters, from Dare to Rowdy, to Armie to Brand. But oh, how I love, love, love writing all-new characters in an all-new setting. (Insert happy authorly grin!)

  This brings me to Driven to Distraction, the first book in my Road to Love series. Brodie Crews—swoon. What a guy!

  I’ve got my fingers and toes crossed that you adore reading him as much as I adored writing him. He’s a man who can swing a punch as hard as he can steal a heart, loves his family without question, does his utmost to understand women (especially the heroine) and never takes injustice lightly.

  He’s also deliciously flawed, rugged in a most basic (very sexy) way, and he has this big-boned, slobbery, crazy-lazy dog that he rescued. Yes, I adore him. I think he’s my favorite character ever and since I’ve written over a hundred stories, that’s saying a lot.

  If (when!) you read this book, do let me know if you agree.

  Lori Foster

  PS: All of my books stand-alone. You never, ever need to read them in order to know what’s going on. BUT...if you prefer to read in order, my books are listed by series on my website here: lorifoster.com/connected/.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Slow Ride by Lori Foster

  Excerpt from Flare Up by Shannon Stacey

  CHAPTER ONE

  MARY DANIELS HUFFED as she continued to climb the rock path on the hillside, her briefcase in hand. Had she known that the Mustang Transport courier service was inaccessible unless a person planned to hike, she wouldn’t have worn one of her nicest blouses. Or a skirt. Or the low-heeled shoes that were now starting to rub her heels raw.

  Being short and excessively curvy made it difficult to find clothes that fit in a way to play down her proportions rather than emphasize them. She thought she’d succeeded, but now...

  She had the awful suspicion that she’d started to sweat.

  Worse, as she looked around at the not-impressive surroundings, she very well might be overdressed.

  Tendrils of her hair, always a little frizzy, began to spring loose from her topknot. With the late-morning July sun full on her face, no doubt her freckles showed stark against her flushed skin.

  Misery.

  But finally, finally, a building came into view. Granted, it looked more like a garage with an office attached than an elite business, but she went where she was directed, conducting the business assigned to her, with the people her employer chose.

  She reached level ground—and froze, stunned.

  The building sat to her right, but to her left stood a man, his naked upper body under the hood of a junker as he worked on...well, something. The engine maybe. He wore ridi culously faded jeans that almost fell off his hips, with work boots. Muscles flexed in brawny arms and his broad back glistened in the sunshine.

  No man had ever left her breathless, but she’d never seen a man like him before. Suddenly her clothes felt too tight and her lungs seemed to have stopped working.

  Behind him, a woman tickled her fingertips down the groove of his spine to those low-slung jeans, across his butt and...

  Mary gasped as the woman reached under him for a bold fondle.

  A big lazy gray dog, which she hadn’t even noticed, lifted its head and gave one vaguely interested “Woof.”

  The man didn’t appear to notice being sexually stroked in the light of day, out in the yard, while working on a car—but with the dog’s bark he glanced at her and away—and quickly came back for another, more assessing look.

  Good Lord. Her heart stalled, then shot into a gallop.

  Slowly, he straightened. His dark brown eyes, framed by crazy thick lashes, locked on her. Grease streaked parts of his broad, hairy chest, down solid abs, even across a flat stomach bisected by that same downy hair...

  It suddenly struck her where she was looking and she ripped her attention back up to his face.

  Though his mouth curled in a sign of amusement, his granite shoulders flexed as if in anger. Without releasing her from his stare, he cleaned his hands on a rag, then swiped a wrist across his forehead beneath a bandanna he’d tied around unruly brown hair.

  The woman, a stunning blonde in a barely there sundress, stepped in front of him to ask her, “Who are you?”

  Mary stiffened. The woman’s suspicious tone made it clear that she’d intruded on an intimate moment.

  An intimate moment, out in the yard of a business, in broad daylight.

  Struggling to focus on anything else, Mary noted the dirt racetrack beyond the people. Adjacent to that property she saw a drive that probably wound around the hill and to the main road below—which meant she had parked below and climbed those awful stone stairs for no reason.

  Well, really, they needed a sign with some directions for customers.

  Movement in the building drew her gaze and she spotted an attractive man—a clean man, fully dressed—stepping out from behind a desk.

  Thank God. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said to the woman and hurried to the door.

  The gentleman from inside beat her to it, opening the door with a smile. “May I help you?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She wanted inside—away from the caveman, the model and the grueling heat, but he stood there, inadvertently blocking her way. He was as tall as the caveman, not quite as bulky but still very fit, wearing a polo shirt and khakis.

  Attractive, yes, but not overwhelmingly so like the other one. “I’m here to discuss business with Brodie Crews.”

  The man smiled. He didn’t look like a Neanderthal. He wasn’t covered in grease. And best of all, he wore a respectable amount of clothes.

  But he said, “I’m Jack Crews.” Looking beyond her, he said, “Brodie?”

  Oh. Oh no. Dread crept over Mary. No, no, no.

  The scent of grease and heated male alerted her to his nearness before a rumbling deep voice said from right behind her, “I’m Brodie. What can I do you for?”

  * * *

  AT HIS DELIBERATELY misspoken question, little Red whirled, her expression aghast. She looked ready to faint. Or maybe scream.

  Odds of her running away were high.

  Brodie grinned—then winced at the pain in his head.

  Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She closed it again, breathing deeply from flared nostrils.

  Gorgeous mouth, he noticed. Full lips that looked a little pouty when he doubted this woman knew how to pout. As he stared at her, more freckles appeared over the bridge of her narrow, hoity nose. Her eyes were vivid blue, like the midday sky or sapphires or... Hell, he was too hungover to pinpoint the exact color of her eyes.

  Her hair, though, he could nail that: fire red. And curly.

  His gaze swept over her body quickly, but a glance was all he’d needed to realize she was stacked and doing her best to hide it.

  Jack cleared his throat and the woman jumped as if his brother had goosed her. She looked back at Jack with longing, then at Brodie with distaste. “You’re Brodie?”

  Never had a woman said his name with such disappointment. True, he wasn’t at his best, but still...

  Just then, Gina’s boobs smooshed up against his sweaty back as she draped herself over him, trying to stake a claim.

  “Brodie,” she whined in his ear. “About tonight?”

  There’d be no shrugging her off, so he said to Red, “’Scuse me a sec,” and turned to walk toward the car. After a smug look shot at Red, Gina came along.

  He hadn’t gone far enough away not to be heard, but it was his best stab at compassion. He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his sagging jeans. “I already told you no. No for tonight, no forever. Let it go, okay?”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Jack and I share a lot, but not that.”

  He heard Red gasp again, heard Jack growl, and then the office door opened. Brodie glanced their way in time to see his brother escorting the scorched redhead inside.

  Why the hell did that bug him so much? Because she came here for me.

  “Jack was a mistake. I want you, Brodie.”

  He rolled his eyes. Now she was insulting his brother? Did the woman not know his feelings on family?

  Apparently not.

  “This isn’t a carnival. You don’t get a ticket for all the rides.” Her pout was deliberate and perfectly practiced. If she hadn’t screwed his brother, he might’ve been interested. “Go home,” he said, a little more gently. “We’re not happening.”

  Without bothering to look at Gina again, he turned to Howler. The dog had sprawled in the scant shade of the Mustang, catcher-mitt paws in the air, junk on display, one loose lip drooping down to touch a floppy ear. “C’mon, boy. Let’s go cool off.”

  Howler opened one eye, grumbled and closed it again.

  “I’m going to get lunch.”

  That got his attention. The dog’s long bony legs flailed in the air as he frantically struggled upright, lumbered to his feet and ran over with a “Woof.”

  Quiet voices reached him as Brodie stepped inside; Jack’s calming, Red’s rushed denial. The brush of cooled air played over his fevered skin, drying the sweat on his body and tightening his nipples. He went past Jack’s office, glancing in only long enough to say, “Be right back.”

  He saw Charlotte—his and Jack’s secretary, who was more like a little sister since they’d known her forever—fetching cold bottles of water.

  He leaned in to whisper, “Don’t let her flee, okay? I gotta wash up but I’ll only be a minute.”

  Brows up, Charlotte snorted. “I’m not your pimp.”

  Brodie cocked one brow. “She wants to hire me, brat.”

  “Not anymore, she doesn’t. She’s doing her best to convince Jack to take the job instead.” With a wink, she sidled past him and down the hall to the office with the drinks.

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered to her back, apparently not low enough.

  Red leaned out the door to frown at him, but was guided back inside when Charlotte entered.

  He heard Jack doing introductions. “Ms. Daniels, this is Charlotte Parrish, our assistant.”

  “Their everything,” Charlotte corrected. Then the little witch shut the door so he couldn’t hear anything else.

  Howler gave Brodie a look, then pivoted to trot after Charlotte, knowing she was the real source of food.

  Annoyed, Brodie shoved into the bathroom, but wished he hadn’t when the door hit the wall and his head tried to crack and fall off his shoulders.

  After digging aspirin from the crooked medicine cabinet, he washed them down with water from the tap, scrubbed his hands with the special soap to remove as much grease as he could and splashed his face and chest.

  One look in the mirror and he knew he hadn’t improved things much. He still looked like hell. He thought about getting his shirt from his car...

  Fuck it.

  He rapidly dried off and sauntered to the office, opening the door and stepping inside just as Red was making her argument.

  Charlotte blew him a kiss on her way out.

  “Yes, my boss requested Brodie specifically, but that was based off internet research. I’m sure he wouldn’t be opposed to hiring you instead—”

  “No.” Brodie turned a chair to face her profile and slouched into it, his sprawled legs only inches from touching her small feet.

  As Red inhaled, her extraordinary chest swelled, her chin tucked in and her brows came down. It was an impressive show of anger and control.

  If he wasn’t such a dick, he might have felt chastened.

  She slowly turned her head to pinpoint him with her brilliant blue-eyed disdain. “You look inebriated,” she stated, her voice a little louder than it needed to be.

  “Cuz I was. But that was last night. Now I’m just suffering a hangover.” He winced theatrically. “Have a heart and talk a little softer.”

  “Why,” she asked, her voice not one iota quieter, “are you working in the sun if you’re—”

  “How else will I learn?” Keeping his face straight wasn’t easy, but her expression made the effort worthwhile.

  Her brows smoothed out, then lifted. “Pardon?”

  Jack laughed—and since he was a loving brother, he at least moderated his tone. “Brodie is a big believer in self-discipline.”

  “More like self-castigation,” Charlotte muttered as she returned with a tray of sandwiches and chips on paper plates. “If he suffers the ill effects of his decisions, maybe he’ll make better ones.”

  Brodie saluted her with his water bottle, then took half of his sandwich and offered it to Howler. The dog gulped it down in one big bite, then waited hopefully for another.