Sequel to Hung Like a Dead Man.
Be careful what you wish for...
When Angel's car dies at a crossroads, during a full moon, at midnight no less, she fervently wishes the clunker will restart and wheeze the few remaining miles to her home. And along comes Otto, a sexy beast who "fixes" the car and takes his payment in trade--Angel's body, naked and ready on the hood of her old Diablo. That's what devils do, after all. Trade. But Angel learns of her mistake too late. While a supernatural car with a permanently undying engine is great and all, her body is a pretty steep price to pay.
Too bad that's not all Otto wants.
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November 13, 2009
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Excerpt from Sexy Beast by Sherri L. King
Angel watched, stunned into silence as he walked the short distance to her. "Otto?" She frowned, bewildered to not only recognize the man but to see that he was real and not imaginary.
"None other." He grinned wolfishly at her, showing large white teeth. "Did you miss me?"
She moved her mouth soundlessly, feeling like a fish out of water. Now this was a man she'd never expected to see again. Not that she'd given him much thought since their first and only meeting.
Their introduction had barely been over one week ago. But what a meeting it had been.
Otto was a man who could get things. In the instance of their meeting, he'd been getting a false identity ready for Yancy's fiance. Well, the identity wasn't exactly fake--Conrad Walsh was Con's real name, but he'd been born about a century earlier is all, too early to have a social security number assigned through proper channels. Yancy's future husband was an ex-zombie, only recently restored to the living.
Con had been reborn on Halloween and was in desperate need of a paper trail that proved he was no longer among the ranks of undead.
Enter Otto and his "special skills". Bang, boom, presto--here's all the documentation you need, Conrad...now that will just be ten thousand dollars.
Angel and Yancy and their friend Robin had pooled all their resources to come up with the large sum of money. Angel didn't regret it, even given her current financial straits. Anyone who made her friend as happy as Conrad did was worth every effort. Every cent.
But Otto--the go-to guy--had danced with her. And after a spectacular barroom fight, he'd given Angel a kiss that made her straight hair curl. Then he'd run off with ten thousand dollars in his pocket.
And her heart in his hand.
"W-what..." She had no tongue, no words. Her mind had shriveled to a vapid sieve that filtered everything but grunts that she had to bite back with Herculean effort.
What on earth was he doing here?
"I'm sorry?" He cupped a hand around his ear. "You'll have to speak up, this wind is just too much tonight." Otto then reached out and, as if he felt he had every right, ran his hands up and down her arms. Even through the thickness of her coat she could feel his heat--and here he was in nothing but a rumpled button-up and dark slacks with a torn hem on the left leg.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to regain order over her senses. But the image of that torn hem burned behind her eyelids, glowing as if she'd stared too long at a bright light.
When she opened her eyes their gazes locked--he had such gorgeous brown eyes that reflected maroon in certain slants of light--and she felt warmed throughout.
"I told you to call me if you ever needed anything," he chided in a soft murmur, tracing one finger along the curve of her jaw. "Looks like you need a ride too."
His words traced like a lit match head along her nerves.
"How did you get here?" She looked around, wide-eyed, feeling that if she didn't focus on something other than him, she'd lose herself. Her vision was vertigo in Technicolor, and the strange slant of moonbeams did nothing to help her orient herself.
"I walked." He captured her chin with two roughly padded fingers and kissed her lightly on the nose. "Silly."
Angel felt the blood of her flush stinging her cheeks. He was just so intimate with her, as if they hadn't only met once before. "No. No." She pulled back from him with determined effort. "You didn't come out here for a stroll, so quit acting so suave and casual." She panted and saw the puff of white her breath made in the cold. "Where is your car? Your clothes are a mess and...Jesus, are you missing a shoe?" She gaped down at his very large, very bare foot peeking beneath the tattered hem of his slacks--so that was why she'd been so stuck on that one detail. It was a small relief to her that she hadn't suddenly turned into a snob who'd scoff at worn clothes.
He waited a beat and the wind stilled around them, heightening his silence. His stillness. "Okay, so it was more of a hike than a walk. But here I am and it looks like you need me." The dense fringe of his mink eyelashes veiled his gaze, but a mischievous glint escaped. "Do you need me, Angel?"