Slow Burn: A Texas Heat Novel by Octavia McKenzie Read Free Book Online

you.”
    Harper snorted. “You’re beauty, I’m the beast.”
    “Stop it,” Emerson hissed, “You keep putting yourself down, you are amazing.”
    Harper swallowed over the lump in her throat. She eyed the volunteers talking in the front seat and jamming to the radio. They sped along I-35, dodging crazy drivers and big rig trucks.
    “My biological father used to call me Raven.” Harper rarely talked about him. Her real dad would always be Carl Grant. He read to her at night when she was a kid, taught her how to ride a bike, how to fish, how to defend herself, how to change a spare tire. Lindsey gave her affection and unconditional love. They were wonderful parents and Harper adored them. Emerson held her gaze.
    “Why did he call you that? Because of your black hair?”
    “No,” Harper whispered, “He said in ancient times, ravens were ugly, bad omens, evil, they meant death and so did I.”
    Emerson gripped her suddenly cold hand. “The devil is a liar and so is your sperm donor. I wanna punch him in the face.”
    Harper smiled. “Me too.”
    They spent the rest of the drive catching up on old times. After a while, they drifted into companionable silence. Harper stared out the tinted window. That man she saw in the square looked an awful lot like Colt Billings. Harper shook her head as if to clear it. The last she heard, her biological father was rotting in prison way up north. Besides, her adoption records were sealed. How could he possibly find her in a small Texas hill country town? And worse yet, why would he hunt her down after all these years?

Chapter 11
    The photo shoot was held in the lush gardens of the mayor’s ancestral estate. If women thought men looked good in uniform – out of said uniforms was definitely better. Harper enjoyed the eye candy without drooling, thank you very much. Firefighters, police officers, paramedics flexed their muscles, flashed their rock hard abs and smiled those pearly whites for the camera.
    The photographer Miguel wasn’t bad looking either. He had that Mediterranean olive skin, jet black hair, almond shaped eyes the color of honey and a lean body to match. He set up the next shoot by a replica of Michelangelo’s David statue. Miguel adjusted the reflector screens and a few lights. Without a shred of modesty, Donavan dropped the robe.
    Harper knew she shouldn’t be watching. His was the last shoot before hers. All the other men drifted inside the mansion for refreshment. Harper lingered near the pool house. She wore a fluffy white robe over the bikini her mom gleefully picked out for her. Miguel’s assistant applied light, natural looking makeup and simply let loose her hair. She stood back and circled Harper.
    “You are stunning, Chica.”
    Doesn’t she have to say that to everyone in her line of work? 
    Harper smiled. She watched the assistant pack up and sprint down a path towards the gathering of fine looking men. More power to ya girl.
    Harper tip toed across the lawn and peaked through a curtain of ivy. Her lips parted. Sweet Jesus in heaven have mercy! Harper nearly tumbled through the bush. She’d never seen Donavan without a shirt before. Her mouth actually watered. God, she wanted to taste every inch of rippling, golden muscle. His broad chest tapered down to a chiseled six pack. A light dusting of blond hair covered his chest. She longed to touch him there and feel him skin on skin. He had lean hips and a squeezable ass, thin black cotton pajama pants covered his long legs. Harper yearned for him. She couldn’t help it. He turned his head slightly as if sensing her. Miguel kept snapping photos . Click, click, click!  
    Donavan didn’t pose, he didn’t have to. His masculine beauty made her body throb. She wanted him, desired him, needed him, adored and loved only him.
    Harper felt her breath catch. Donavan’s blue eyes burned her alive. Harper didn’t pretend she wasn’t lurking. She walked around the bushes and faced him.
    “Hi,” she said