Nicky and Liam have only twenty four short hours to find out if their instantaneous attraction can develop into something more than an electric mile-high fumble. San Francisco has everything they need to put their previous disastrous relationships behind them but when they lose touch with each other almost immediately, fate seems to have other ideas. As the precious hours tick away, Liam moves heaven and earth to find the woman of his (filthiest) dreams before she leaves the city. Will he get to her in time?
Buy links: http://casspeterson.co.uk/books/city-nights-one-night-in-san-francisco/
‘That feels just amazing,’ he whispered, ‘but I really can’t. I’m sorry – I can tell you’re something of an expert in your field.’
I giggled. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment; not that I go around rummaging under men’s blankets on a regular basis, you understand.’
‘Of course not. Look, I’m in San Fran for a week – I’ll give you my card and you must call me if you’re staying long enough for a meet up? I’m free tonight, if you’d like dinner, maybe?’
‘That’d be nice – I’m only here for one night though. I’m on my way to stay with my brother in Southern California tomorrow evening, but I’ve never seen the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, or the cable cars so I decided to stop off in San Francisco on the way and be a tourist for twenty four hours.’
‘Good place to have a brother.’
‘I know – he’s an actor. He lives somewhere in the hills in a huge house called Coast Starlight. He did tell me why he named it, but I can’t remember. Something sentimental, I’m sure – he’s a big softie.
‘It was a nice idea to have a pit stop in the City first.’
‘Jack paid for it – this is his treat. He’s doing really well these days. I’d never have afforded it otherwise. I’ve brought him some great presents though to remind him of home. Marmite, a novelty big red bus moneybox, that sort of thing.’
‘Sounds great. Well, I’d love to see you later if you’ve got time? Will you ring me?’
I dimpled at him. ‘Might do. But you don’t even know my name. And more to the point, I don’t know yours.’
He grinned back and reached for my hand, turning it over and kissing the back of it so lightly that I’d have thought I’d imagined it if my whole body hadn’t begun to throb with pleasure at the touch of his lips. He began to work on my fingers, taking each in his mouth by turn and sucking gently until I was almost at the combustion point again.
‘You really are a find,’ he said.
‘A find. A lovely woman, easy in her own skin, sensual and ready for anything. I bet if I lifted you across my knee now and lowered you onto my cock, you’d come in seconds.’
‘Hmmm. Well, I’d like to answer that one, but it’s a long story.’ We were still whispering, but I noticed one or two nearby people starting to stir and look around to see who was disturbing the peace. ‘Are you going to give me your phone number then, or what?’ I murmured, mind agonisingly full of the images he’d put there. I took the outstretched card he offered after a brief rummage in his pockets, and tucked it away in my bag.
‘Oh, and I’m Liam,’ he said, as an afterthought, ‘I’m a literary agent. I specialise in crime thrillers.’
‘Hi Liam. I’m Nicky. I’m thirty two, I guess I specialise in crime too – I’m a solicitor.’ He laughed and squeezed my hand, keeping hold of it and linking his fingers in mine. Settling down, we leaned together like old friends, and soon both drifted into sleep.
Cass Peterson is passionate about many things; her family, writing, chocolate, wine, cake, curry, gin, sunlit beaches, moonlit bedrooms and good novels to name but a few. At the moment she spends a good chunk of her time working on the day job, but she tries to fit the other passions in as often as possible.
She is a cat lover, an all-weather walker, a reader and reviewer of contemporary romance and an enthusiastic cook.
Cass likes to laugh, especially at Bill Bailey, Victoria Wood, Michael Palin and Eddie Izzard. She would happily live next door to any of these comedians.