Marissa Lambert is furious her agent hired a security agency to protect her. Just because two plus-size models have turned up dead doesn’t mean she’s at risk. Besides, she can take care of herself!

Beau Evans owns Evans Security. The moment he watches Marissa sashay down the runway, he gets a serious itch that doesn't go away. Once they succumb to the lust in their blood there's no turning back. 

EXCERPT-
Handsome stud or not, Marissa decided to get right to the point. “Nothing against you, but you’re fired.” She tried to ignore the tiny scar at the corner of his sensual mouth.

“I don’t work for you. You can’t fire me.” He cocked a brow. “Even if you can take care of yourself.” His sexy drawl clearly said he didn’t think so.

Marissa pressed her lips together. “You caught me by surprise.” All of him caught her by surprise. He had the whole package right down to his muddy cowboy boots. He was a true Texan, and nothing close to her unflattering description to Kirk.

He laughed. “You think the killer is going to announce himself?”

Damn him! “Well, maybe I can’t fire you, but after what you just did, I can call your boss and demand another bodyguard.” Marissa slapped her hands on her full hips.

Why is he laughing again?

“My brothers and I own Evan’s Security and I’m afraid they’re all on assignments right now.”

Good God, there was more like him?

“I’m afraid I’m stuck with you.”

Marissa was preoccupied with the way his sensuous mouth formed the words, until what he said reached her on a conscious level. He was stuck with her? Her gaze returned to his. There was amusement swimming in his chocolate eyes. Rich, decadent chocolate that she could drown in if she wasn’t careful. Her lips twitched in response. She liked a man with a sense of humor, even directed at her.

Beau Evans was a big, well-proportioned man, and the way he filled out a pair of jeans revealed his powerful, muscular thighs. Marissa couldn’t help her wandering gaze as it moved down his body, then back up again. She gauged his height to be somewhere around six feet five. Not too many men made her feel small, but this one did.

“So, where’s the hat, cowboy?”

“In my truck.”

It figured he’d have a truck. Didn’t all macho Texans?

“What did you mean earlier when you said, ‘I have a lot to learn?’”

“I’ll show you after you put some clothes on.”

After years of modeling, Marissa was used to being in various states of undress around people. It came with the business, and she was very comfortable in her own skin. The minute she’d entered her dressing room she’d kicked off her heels and removed the sheer thigh length shirt.

“I am wearing clothes.”

If eyes could strip, she’d be naked right now. “If you insist, ma’am.”