Taming the Bachelor: Jersey Girls Contemporary Romance Series, #3

By Charity Pineiro

Brad Evans doesn’t understand why a woman like Daisy Ramos would be interested in a guy like him. . .

She's the first woman who’s ever made him consider giving up his beloved bachelorhood, but falling for her presents all kinds of problems. For starters, she’s one of his partners in a successful biotech company. But worse, she’s the kind of woman who will drive a man to distraction and Brad’s not sure he can risk losing his focus or his heart to Daisy. But he can’t ignore that whenever she walks into a room, he wishes things could be different between them.

Daisy doesn't believe that a confirmed bachelor and beach dude like Brad will ever walk down the aisle . . .

Especially not with a woman like her. She’s known Brad for years and knows he’s never serious about anything. He flits from one woman to another and spends his free time playing volleyball on the beach. He’s not a forever kind of guy and her determined workaholic mind warns her that he’s absolutely the wrong man for her, but her heart says something else.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Caridad Pineiro
• Release date: Apr 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507086926

Book preview

Chapter 1

Don't waste this opportunity, her best friend Maya had repeated on her way out the door of Daisy’s condo.

Daisy Ramos rarely disregarded her friend's advice. After all, they had known each other for a long time, and Maya, ever-sensible and ever-thoughtful Maya, was hardly ever wrong.

Except this time, Daisy thought as she leaned back against her front door and wondered what she would now do with Brad. Brad of the bountiful beach bunnies. Brad, with whom she was ever at odds and yet, the Brad she had found herself attracted to for so long.

Nearly seven years had gone by since she had first met him at Columbia and they had become part of a circle of friends that would eventually become the nucleus of a successful biotech company. Seven years of being intrigued and attracted by the carefree Californian without ever doing a thing about it.

But not this time, she vowed as she walked back toward her living room.

Daze, he called out, unaware she had returned to the room. He swaggered out of the kitchen a second later, holding the margaritas Maya had prepared just a few minutes ago. The oxford shirt he wore instead of his usual t-shirt pulled tight against the breadth of his shoulders and it was all Daisy could do to take a breath. He always did that to her, and she hated that he seemed oblivious to her interest.

Maya is really losing it, he said and after putting the drinks down on the coffee table, he threw himself down onto her couch. First she tries to poison us with enough tequila for the Mexican army. Then she gives us glasses of frozen limeade, but I've remedied that.

I wanted to kill her for wasting my aged tequila.

Daisy sat at the end of the couch opposite Brad, picked up her drink, and took a tentative sip. It was expertly mixed, with just the right amount of alcohol. What else should she have expected from a bachelor and playboy like Brad?

Perfect, she said.

Taking another quick sip, she looked over the rim of her glass at Brad, who was busy with his own drink, sampling it and smiling.

Yep, perfect.

He glanced at her and raised his glass in a toast. To good drink, good women, and good music.

His comment prompted her to realize he had put on the stereo during her brief absence. The soft subtle sounds of Sarah MacLachlan flowed out of the speakers. Definitely not what she would have expected Brad to pick out of her stack of CDs.

Nice choice, but surprising, she confessed and gauged his response over the edge of her glass of gradually diminishing margarita.

Brad took a big gulp of his drink and gave her an equally big grin, displaying his perfect white teeth and the boyish dimples that drove her crazy. My little flower. You always assume the worst of me, don't you?

Daisy shrugged, intent on not letting him get a rise out of her. That invariably led to a fight and she had no interest in battling him tonight.

No. It's just that you always struck me as a grunge kind of guy. Or are you too old at thirty for that mosh pit kind of stuff?

Brad mocked a wince and put his glass down. Ouch, Daze. Cut me a break, would you. On top of thinking of me as shallow and chauvinistic, now you think I'm too old for you? Not fair, sweetheart. Just because you're all of twenty-eight –

Twenty-four, Daisy corrected.

Only twenty-four, he stammered. "You started college that early?"

Daisy nodded and sipped her drink, trying not to show her hurt at his forgetfulness of her age. After all, they'd known each other all of seven years, right.  You’d think he know her age, but then again, what did she expect from someone who was not the perfect kind of guy.

I started at sixteen. I was done at eighteen and went for my doctorates right after that.  She wished they could get off this topic. Men invariably became uneasy when faced with her accomplishments and her age.

Wow. You are something, Daze. I've always said that, he replied, surprising her with his candor.

Daisy wasn't dissuaded. The 'something' you generally think I am is far from flattering, Brad.

Brad shot her an embarrassed glance before looking away. Yeah, well . . . I'd shock you senseless if I suddenly started singing your praises, but . . .

He hesitated, met her gaze squarely and once again, broad-sided her with his devil-may-care grin. As a mature man, I've learned the error of my ways. I've been hoping you noticed the change.

Daisy chuckled, unable to resist his boyish charm. Now, Brad. If I started singing your praises like the rest of your groupies, where would that leave us?

She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth since his mood suddenly changed, growing way too serious.

He shifted to the center of the couch where he could pluck her glass from her hand and place it on the coffee table. Since I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy from the drink, it seems like a good time to ask since it gives me an out, he admitted. "Where would it put us, Daze, after all these years?"

Daisy was feeling all warm and fuzzy as well, but it had nothing to do with the drink and everything to do with Brad. In the background, there was silence for a moment, and then the sexy, sensual sounds of a song about surrender. Daisy acknowledged for the first time just where she wanted for them to be.

She moved, only a few inches, and cupped Brad's cheek. Beneath her palm, his beard was soft and a muscle ticked along his jaw. She moved her hand, running her palm across his lips, and against the chill from the drink.

Brad had never felt anything sweeter, anything more desirable than the gentle sweep of Daisy's hand across his lips. For so long he had wanted her, but had been afraid. After all, Daisy was the kind of woman every man wanted and yet every man avoided. Beautiful enough to bring you to your knees and sharp enough mentally to cut you down to size when necessary.

In the past, she had made her opinion of him quite clear, just as he had offered up his own sentiments on her domineering personality.

But lately, and right now in particular, he had sensed a change coming in their relationship.

An tonight, there was nothing that was going to keep him from taking it farther.

Moving his hand upward, he grasped her hand that had been busy warming his lips and other parts of his anatomy, and laced his fingers with hers. Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved closer, brought his mouth to within a hair's breadth of her lips.

It's not the liquor, Daze. And I've never been one to pass up a moment like this, he said as he made the final move and brought his lips to hers.

It was a gentle invasion, Daisy thought. His lips, those hard, sculpted lips she had ached to taste, floated above her upper lip first, as if learning the shape of it. Like a butterfly sampling nectar, they moved down a little, traced the fullness of her lower lip and then bit the edge.

She sighed, opened her eyes, and realized he was watching her, his ice-blue eyes glittering with the fire of diamonds. Bringing her hand up to the nape of his neck, she loosened the strip of black rawhide he had used to secure his blonde, sun-bleached hair for their earlier business meeting and threaded her hands through his shoulder length hair.

"It isn't the liquor," she confirmed in low tones as she urged him closer, nuzzling the side of his face with hers. Imagining that the press of her cheek to his was like that of their bodies coming together.

The edge of his brow, his jaw, was hard against hers, his skin electrifyingly abrasive along the softer skin of her cheek. She skirted her lips across his brow and down to the shell of his ear where she whispered, Only for this one time, I'm surrendering, Brad.

Brad exhaled sharply and grabbed her forearms, gently urging her away so he could examine her face. He had once told her that her surrender would only happen when hell froze over, but there was nothing cold about her, he thought as he studied her. Her eyes, those gorgeous, deep caramel-colored eyes, were blazing with heat. Her lips, better than the stuff of his dreams he had confirmed after tasting them for the first time, were pouty from his kisses, moist from his tongue.

It was all he could do to draw a breath as his body tightened painfully.

Daze, he began, his voice nearly a croak. If we do this, things could get weird at work, but even as he said that, he looked down and reached for her waist with his hand, to the bare inches of skin visible beneath her cropped top. His palm against that sweet slip of skin, warm and quivering beneath his hand, made him shudder with desire.

Brad, Daisy said softly, covering the hand at her midsection with her own, softer one. We can handle this, she urged and moved her hand along the bare skin of his forearm, stopping when she reached the edge of his shirt. She yanked at it in seeming annoyance, snagging his gaze.

She was smiling ruefully. I never thought the day would come when I would complain that you were dressed properly for a change.

He grinned, appreciating the Daisy he had come to know so well after so many years. The bright brash Daisy who let nothing get in her way.

Luckily, that situation can be remedied, he said and with her help, he quickly removed the oxford shirt, leaving him in his white T-shirt.

Daisy hesitated at the sight of all his muscle beneath the tightly stretched cotton, regretting it was hidden. She had seen him more than once at the beach, with his beautiful, sculpted athlete's body. She had wanted for so long to be able to explore those crests and valleys with her hands.

Apparently sensing that she wanted more, he muttered What the hell, under his breath, and pulled off the T-shirt as well.

"This is getting weird," she replied softly, realizing he had known what she had been thinking. Tentatively she laid her hand on the broad expanse of his chest. He wasn't particularly hairy. He was just right, she thought as she slipped her hand across the barely-there hair in the middle of his chest and over to his pectoral muscle. Beneath her palm, his skin was soft, until she placed her hand over his flat nipple and it beaded into a tight bud.

Her own nipples tightened in response and she rubbed her hand back and forth along the hard nub and wished his hands were on her in the same way.

He sucked in his breath and covered her hand with his to still the motion. Daze, he said, and repeated it again before he brought his mouth down to capture her lips.

Her mind whirled as he slanted his mouth across hers while he held her head with his one big hand. His other hand rested by her knee, caressing a spot just above the loose edge of her shorts, but he made no further move upward.

Daisy was glad for that.

Contrary to the image she projected, her experience with men had been minimal at best. She'd had her share of grope and fumble sessions, but she wanted this to be about more.  Much more.

As Brad took his time with her mouth, she realized she was going to get much, much more from him.

He licked her lips with his tongue, savoring the taste of her before she opened her mouth, let him inside, and their tongues danced together. When they broke apart for a moment, their breathing was rough, unsteady, but neither hesitated to resume what they had been doing.

Again and again she met his mouth and tongue, until that contact wasn't enough. She slipped to lie down on the couch, dragging him along with her as she did so. His chest pressed her into the cushions and his one thigh rested between her legs. The fleece of her shirt rubbed her sensitized nipples as he continued to make love to her mouth.

The wool fabric of his pants chafed at her bare thighs. Against her belly, his growing arousal was impossible to miss, but when she shifted to reach him, she found herself nearly falling off the edge of the couch.

The sofa clearly had not been intended to hold two people of their size. At 5'10, she was tall for a woman, but Brad's 6'4 height made the space seem all that much tighter and smaller.

Let's go to my room, she urged against his lips, nipping his lower lip as she did so.

He stopped short, seemingly surprised for a moment, but then he smiled at her and nodded. Rising, he offered her assistance off the couch, and she continued to hold his hand as she led him to her bedroom.

Chapter 2

If Brad had been asked to describe what he thought Daisy's bedroom would look like, he would never have been close. Never would he have imagined the very feminine, very romantic space into which she invited him.

The walls were the color of a ripe peach, and glazed to heighten the hue and the sense of texture. The furniture was all dark rich mahogany that served to deepen the peach color, make it seem lusher, even riper.

Along the one wall was what his mother would have called a fainting couch. In contrast to the paler colors of the walls, and the reddish tones of the wood, its upholstery was done in a deep forest green, and it was that color which accented the wood trims and other fabrics in the room. For a moment he imagined making love to her there, her long body barely draped along the length of the couch, but knew that today, if this was going to lead to that, he wanted somewhere they could take it nice and slow, without fear of any vital body parts falling off the furniture.

He faced the center of the room and was not disappointed to find a large, king-size bed, probably in deference to Daisy's height. The bed boasted dark green bedcovers, and its surface was strewn with pillows in coordinating shades of green, gold, and cream. Dozens of pillows like in the harem of a sultan.

She shot him a half glance over her shoulder and seemed suddenly shy, as if by showing him this room she was allowing him entry into something too private.

I like it, he assured and exerted subtle pressure on her hand so that she faced him.

Daisy glanced away, and he took a step closer, until his body was almost touching hers. He reached under her chin and with his thumb, gently urged her face to meet his gaze. There was uncertainty there, and something else he couldn't quite place. Something quite different from the woman he had known, or at least thought he'd known, for so many years. Taking a breath to speak, he then bit it back, afraid words would shatter the moment.

Instead, he cupped her jaw, leaned forward and took her mouth again, his lips soft and unhurried as they explored her sweet mouth.

He tunneled his hand