NINGALOO NIGHTS by Tracy Cooper-Posey

A Go Get ’em Women Story

Romantic Suspense Novella

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To find out what happened to her sister, Sherry must go with Mason Hayward to the ends of the earth…oh, and give him complete control over her mind, body and soul.

New York cop Sherry Abandonato dashes to Ningaloo in remote northwest Western Australia to find her sister, who disappeared ten days ago.

The only man with the skill to guide her is Mason Hayward, who once had a reputation for getting people out of trouble, but now is the town’s bad man.

Mason strikes a bargain. He’ll get her to Derremawan, if she agrees to go there with him unconditionally—on his terms and his conditions.  Three days of Mason Hayward taking charge under the hot Australian sun…

This book is part of the Go Get ‘Em Women collection:
1.0 Delly’s Last Night
2.0 The Royal Talisman
3.0 Vivian’s Return
4.0 Ningaloo Nights
A Sexy Romantic Suspense Novella

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{Also see: Romance, Romantic Suspense, Novellas}

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Excerpt

EXCERPT FROM NINGALOO NIGHTS
COPYRIGHT © TRACY COOPER-POSEY 2003
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[Excerpt edited for a general audience]

Chapter One

In only three days Sherry had already got used to laid-back Australians but stark-naked ones were definitely a novelty. Especially this Aussie.

She hadn’t been expecting anything quite so…beautiful—not emerging from such a place as this. The shed she had stepped around looked like it had been slapped together with nails and sheets of rusted corrugated iron. When she peeked inside it on her way around to the rear, it was clear that the man she was seeking did indeed live in it, for there was a cot and an old mattress and a folding card table and a few basic living amenities. Very basic.

She’d felt a long way from New York at that moment, despite some of the tenements she patrolled being just as run-down and unloved.

She’d heard sounds beyond the shed and rather than step inside, she’d moved around it, for the smell coming from inside the quarters had been less than savory. No wonder the sergeant at the tiny Ningaloo police station had been so reluctant to give her the man’s name.

Mason Hayward.

Sherry stared at the naked man now, the heat of a torrid February morning forgotten as she watched him reach up to the bucket hanging over his head and pull on the rope attached to the lip at the bottom and running up through the same hook that held the bucket.

Water poured over his black hair, dousing him from head to foot, every inch well-tanned.

He stood easily six foot two inches and as he controlled the flow of water from the bucket, Sherry assessed his physical fitness, running her gaze over the tight buttocks, the satin sheened skin spreading over agreeable, wide back muscles as they worked under very little disguising fat. Long legs. The well-developed muscles clenched as he turned. His chest was as pleasing as his back, with hard pecs and heavy shoulders. The biceps were flexed, iron hard.

“Should I be charging admission?” His voice was deep, with a gravelly timbre and the tone was dry and completely devoid of amusement.

She jumped guiltily and forced her gaze to his face. He had eyes the same light blue as the Australian summer sky—transparent and depthless. “I’m sorry—” she began, then halted.

There was no way to explain what she had been doing. What had she been doing? She was aware of her heart thudding in a way that she’d almost forgotten. How long had it been since she had felt this sort of racing charge? Abruptly, she became aware of the heat of the day again. It was beating at her temples, making her sweat. The heat was a live thing, curling around her, throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

He reached for a ratty brown towel hanging over a piece of wire hooked into the gutter next to his head. It was a casual movement. He wasn’t trying to cover himself up. Her presence here hadn’t caused him any concern at all. He wrapped the towel around his hips and tucked the corner in to secure it. “If you’re looking for Ningaloo, you need to turn around and head south about five kilometers. You’ve passed it already.” The heat didn’t seem to be bothering him at all but he hadn’t just flown out from the depths of a New York winter, either.

“I’m looking for you,” she told him.

His brow lifted and he smiled, showing white, even teeth. “My lucky day.”

“You’re Mason Hayward, aren’t you?”

Abruptly the smile was gone. He looked up at the sky then shut his eyes briefly, as if reaching for calm. “Bugger it,” he said softly. His gaze, sharp and assessing, fell on her face once more.

“Who sent you?” he demanded.