Tuesday, September 6, 2011

All for Spilled Blood by R. Ann Siracusa



R. Ann Siracusa

Fourth novel in the humorous Romantic Suspense series

Tour Director Extraordinaire

Sapphire Blue Publishing


Harriet Ruby, tour director extraordinaire, and her fiancĂ© and favorite spy, Will Talbot, travel to Russia undercover as tour directors for the US delegation to an international youth conference.  Harriet tackles her first covert assignment to investigate smuggled artwork while Will’s mission is to locate and destroy a group of terrorists recruiting young computer experts.

Their marriage plans hit a snag when Will locates a long-lost cousin with startling news about his heritage.  When the artwork being smuggled has particular significance to one of the terrorist sympathizers, their missions entangle and begin to unravel, leaving Will at the mercy of terrorist kidnappers and Harriet holding the bag.


As we kissed, he lifted my sweater and ran his hand up my rib cage.  “You came prepared.”

“No point in wasting time.  First one naked gets to be on top.”

He let me go, but kept his hands on my arms.  “Not so fast.  I have to secure the door.”  Still holding one of my wrists, he clicked all his spy locks into place.  “Besides, we’re not in a hurry.”

“We’re not?  What’s changed?”  Usually we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

“Nothing, except this could be our last uninterrupted time together for a while.  I want to take it slow.”  I hadn’t seen that coming, but he gave me a kiss that sent me reeling.  I knew he meant business, no matter how long it took.  “Besides, I have something for you.”

He detached himself and went into the bathroom.  I had something for him, too.  I’d stripped down to my thong when he returned carrying a small container like a miniscule ice chest.

I hesitated, scrutinizing it with a frown.  “What’s that?  It looks like one of those sterile containers for transporting medical supplies.”

“You’re close.  It’s the refrigerated version for transporting donor organs.”  He set it on the table.  With great ceremony he went about unlocking it and popped open the lid.  “Take a look.”

Donor organs?  Oh boy.  I hesitated and did a nose wrinkle.  I hoped it didn’t contain body parts.  Ice cream would be good, though.  I gathered my courage and peered inside.

“Bubble wrap?”  I’d expected to see ice.  At least a frozen cooler pack.

“Open it.”

While I had no desire to do that, I didn’t want to appear ungrateful.  I lifted out the wrapped objects and unwound them from the plastic.  My eyes widened.

“Reddi-wip and chocolate syrup?  Yum.  My favorites.”  I licked my lips.  “Where did these come from?”

He had already kicked off his shoes and unzipped his slacks.  “For me to know and for you to enjoy.”

He moved so slowly, I began to fumble with the buttons on his shirt, just to hurry things along.  “C’mon, tell me.”

“Don’t you want to know what I’m going to do with it?”

“I already have a pretty good idea what.  I shoved off his shirt and ran my fingers through the fine hairs on his chest, then ran my tongue around one of his nipples.  His muscles bunched under my touch and he shuddered.  “I also know you can’t buy aerosol cans of whipped cream in Russia, and you didn’t bring it with you last night.  How did you get it?”

He grinned and kicked off the pants from around his ankles.  His undershorts followed.  “I severely abused my authority, I’m afraid.”

Trepidation skittered through me, and my heart skipped a beat.  “You’re not going to get in trouble, are you?”

“No, at least not before we use them.”  He picked up the can, squirted me on the chest, then scooped me into his arms and licked the whipped cream off my breast.  “This may get messy.”

My wiggling out of his arms smeared both of us with whipped cream.  “You only get one taste until you tell me.”

He pulled me into his embrace.  “The Air Force transported it in.  Before I left, I flashed my credentials, gave them a story about an organ exchange as part of my top secret mission, and here it is.  Just in time for the operation.”  He let me go, grabbed up the can, and squirted me again, lower this time.  “I know how much you like it.”

I stood there, dripping whipped cream onto the carpet, and gaped at him.  “You did that for me?  Are you sweet, or what?”

“Not as sweet as I’m going to be.  Ready?”

Was I ever.  Chocolate and whipped cream are my best colors.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Sounds delicious! Thanks for sharing an excerpt with us!