The owner of the ancient Irish Torque will always be an Irish lass. The wearer, the lover of her heart and soul.
It's Angel Manning's legacy and has sparked dreams of an unknown lover who would fill her nights with heat, her heart with joy.
But when her father sells the Torque to Jack Riley against her wishes, destiny and fate are put in motion. She'll get it back if she has to steal it. But Jack catches her, and he's not giving it up without a fight.
Showing 1-1 of the 1 most recent reviews
1 . Too short
Posted April 19, 2010 by Jo , NeepawaI love Lora Leigh's books, but this one was too short for the price. Sorry Lora.
November 13, 2009
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from Cowboy and the Thief by Lora Leigh
Sometimes, women just amazed him, Jack Riley thought pensively as he hid in the shadows of his ranch house and watched the cute, little bit of nothing slip through the opened living room window.
They shouldn't, not anymore, but he had to admit he hadn't really expected her to keep her very rash promise. Especially considering the fact that her daddy knew damned well what she would be getting herself into if he caught her.
Let your daughter even attempt to steal what's mine, Manning, and I'll show her a party she'll never fucking forget.
Manning hadn't appeared too worried.
A smiled slowly curved his lips as she pulled herself into the house, her long black hair secured in a tight braid, her rounded little body poised cautiously like a doe in hunting season. Damn, she made his cock hard. Even during a spot of breaking and entering, pissing him off in the worst way, she turned him on.
Angel Manning. Why anyone would name that bundle of fire and energy Angel, he had no idea. One look into those dark violet eyes, the first glimpse of wild, impetuous passion in her gaze, and it wasn't angels you were thinking about. It was wild steamy sex. Hot, naked, sweaty bodies tangled together as feminine cries of tortured pleasure echoed around your ears. That's what you thought about when you saw Angel. Hard, deep fucking. Watching her eyes widen, her body arch, the soft folds of her sweet little pussy stretching open as he impaled her with his steel-hard dick. That's what hit his mind.
He stood silent, motionless as she looked around the dimly lit room, obviously searching for the lights. Lights that weren't going to work for her. He had thrown the breaker the minute he realized someone was attempting to break in. God only knew who it could be. He had made several enemies over the past few years, none of whom he wanted to meet up with in a dark alley, or his normally well-lit home.
Now, he only shook his head mentally. He was going to have to remind her that cat burglars did not turn on the lights. It was an arrest waiting to be made.
He may not have been expecting Angel, but damned if he didn't know what to do with her now that she was here. Jack wasn't a fool, and he knew she wasn't averse to his touch. But how easily would she settle into the more perverted hungers he could unleash on her? It might not be easy for her, he thought in satisfaction, but she would do it. He knew her, and knew jail wasn't an option for her.
He watched as she pushed her hand into the small satchel she wore at her hip. A second later, he ducked as a beam of light swept across the room.
"Of course, he couldn't just make it easy for me. Dammit." Her voice was faintly accented, the soft Irish cadence stroking his flesh like a physical touch. He couldn't wait to hear her screaming his name.
No, he wasn't going to make anything easy for her. She had made certain of that the minute she attempted to steal from him. It didn't matter that she likely considered what he held hers. He had bought it in a fair deal and though it meant little to him, Jack kept what he considered his. It was a lesson he had learned during a particularly nasty episode years ago. When a man faced death, things changed inside him, whether he wanted them to or not.
He shifted carefully, staying hidden in the corner, moving a bit to the left as the beam of light came too close. His naturally blond hair was covered by a dark, woolen cap. Blond hair was like a beacon in the dark and he wanted to hide, not make a target of himself.
She checked the room carefully before proceeding through the rest of the house. Jack stood back quietly and let her have at it, knowing there wasn't a chance she was going to find what she was looking for. He would let her look, though. Sooner or later she would have to head upstairs. When she did, he would make certain he was right behind her.
He shook his head, though, thinking it shouldn't be so easy. He had actually been considering flying back to Ireland, his prized torque in hand to offer her, for the chance of bedding her. It wasn't as if prize Irish antiquities were his passion or anything. He had just particularly liked the piece when Manning had offered it to him. The gold and silver neckband had piqued his curiosity, but nothing more. Until Angel had demanded that he refuse it. Furious. Commanding. She had stared up at him with those raging violet eyes and informed him in no uncertain terms that he had no right to it. That he was in no way good enough to possess it.
He had bought it then and there without even haggling over the price.
Now, the pretty little sprite was out to steal it back. He would have chuckled if she weren't within hearing distance, cursing like a sailor and heaping insults on his ancestors. Damn, she had fire in her. A fire he was anticipating tapping quite soon.
Finally, he heard her near the stairs, her soft footfalls moving to the upper story before he moved. He stayed well behind her, moving up the staircase as she disappeared into the first bedroom. It would take her several minutes to check it well, which gave him plenty of time to slip past the closed door and to his own room.
It was in his room that the torque rested, still packed in his luggage, nearly forgotten amid the rush and bustle of ranch life after he returned home. His partner, Luc Jardin, had sold the last of the Clydesdale horses and taken up training mustangs for rodeos. The man was as mercurial as spring. The business seemed to change with the seasons where he and his new wife Melina were concerned. Not that they didn't make money. They did. But Jack never seemed to be certain if he was selling Clydesdales, mustangs, cattle or dry Texas dust.
"Men should be neutered." The soft voice approached his bedroom as Jack flattened himself against the wall. "Riley should be neutered. Too much testosterone making decisions for him."
Her soft mutterings were amusing, if insulting. He shook his head, watching as the bedroom door opened, the little penlight sweeping out in front of her as she stepped into the room.
Jack moved then. Silently, swiftly, he slid across the distance, coming behind her, his arms going around her, one hand locking at her throat as a frightened gasp left her lips.
"Testosterone can come in real handy at times, little girl." He pressed his hips against hers, grinding his erection against her lower back as his lips lowered to her ear, his teeth nipping at the silken lobe as he felt her tense in his hold. "Especially when it comes to punishing pesky little kitten burglars with smart mouths."
Oh hell! Angel stilled, tensed, feeling the thick wedge of Jack's erection pressing into the small of her back as his big hand circled her throat. And she should have been frightened. She should have been terrified and fighting for her life and she would have been, if she didn't know him so well. He was undoubtedly going to piss her off, but he wasn't going to hurt her. He wasn't going to let her go either--the snug hold he had on her assured her of that.
"You're a goon, Jack," she snapped as her hands rose to the fingers locked on her throat.
The position tilted her head back, angling her head on his shoulder as his teeth played at her ear, sending shivers of pleasure racing over her flesh. And the sensation wasn't one she wanted to feel right now. She didn't want to become aroused, weak with curious arousal when she knew the man holding her wasn't the keeping kind.
"Oh, it's goon now?" he purred at her ear. "Not nearly as brave as you were moments ago, are you, sweet thing? I think the last insult I heard in Ireland was much better. Stinking dirty cowboy with an attitude," he snorted. "I do not stink, Angel-mine."
Angel-mine. He had called her that every time he caught her away from her father on the Manning estate in Ireland. The possessive tone sent small flutters of pleasure attacking her stomach as an insidious weakness attacked her limbs. Just as it did now.
"I told you not to call me that," she retorted through gritted teeth as she strained against his hold. "Now let me go, dammit."
"Oh, I don't think I want to let you go, little Angel," he crooned at her ear, his tongue licking playfully at her lobe as an unbidden shudder raced through her body. "You've been a very bad girl. Stealing is against the law here, you know. Maybe we should give the sheriff a call."
Her eyes widened. He wouldn't. Surely, he wouldn't dare call the sheriff. If she was arrested for breaking and entering and attempted theft, it would ruin her father. Not to mention what it would do to her. She would lose everything she had worked for in the past six years.
"You wouldn't dare!" she gasped, unable to hold back the shocking thought that he would indeed.
"That's what we do in America, Angel-mine." His fingers stroked her throat as his teeth raked the sensitive flesh of her neck. "We put them in a cell and reporters crowd around for all those incriminating little pictures to flash in their trashy tabloids. It's all damned amusing while it's going on."
She heard the threat in his voice, but also a suggestiveness that had her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"So what do you want in exchange for not calling the sheriff and the trashy tabloids, Riley?" Manipulating bastard, she knew he was up to something. And she knew she wasn't going to like it.
She felt his short beard rasp over her shoulder then, the prickly caress had her breathing in deep, fighting to maintain her composure as well as her sanity while pleasure threatened to swamp her.
"What do you have to bargain with?"