“Mike’s Wrecker, this is Jacob.”

A pang of disappointment struck when Michael didn’t answer. Not that Jacob Lewis was anything to smirk at. Pleasant View’s resident mechanic was also a renowned bachelor who wooed the ladies but refused to settle down.

“Hi, Jacob. It’s Lacey Walsh,” she said, oddly deflated. “I need a tow.”

“Hello, Lacey.” His soft chuckle rasped into the phone. “I kind of figured that. Where are you?”

She quickly gave him directions and snapped the phone closed after she was instructed to remain in her car and wait. Settling into her seat, she palmed the cell and tugged her coat around her shoulders.

It was just as well that Michael didn’t answer. Coming off the disaster that was Scott Barker, it was best she get her kicks from erotic romance novels followed by some quality time with her vibrator.

There was nothing worse than getting herself worked up only to take the lonely trip back home to her computer screen, Twitter and Facebook and dream about what might have been.

Wasn’t that the kicker? Things that occurred in books never happened in real life. There were no tall, dark and handsome strangers who were faithful, gainfully employed and romantic. There were only men who loved you, fucked you and left you high and dry. And when it was all over, if you were lucky, you were left with a broken heart versus a dried-up bank account, an STD or enough emotional damage to make sure you never made the same mistake again.

Nope, when it came down to it there was one universal truth shared by single women the world over: You could always depend on something that only required batteries and decent wrist action to provide adequate, if mildly disappointing, sexual satisfaction.

Who needed a man?

Chapter Two

“Mike, are you there? Come in.”

Michael snagged the microphone from the CB and lifted it to his mouth. “I’m here. What do you need?” He released the small circular button and listened, hoping like hell he didn’t have to make a detour. After giving his last unfortunate client a tow to the closest tire shop, he’d hoped to finish up for the night. Too bad heavy snow meant business would be booming, and the temperature wasn’t supposed to rise until the morning.

“I need a tow up on Merril Mountain.”

That was heading in the opposite direction. If he took the call he wouldn’t make it home for an hour or more. “Radio Pat. He was in that area last time I checked.”

“You might want to take this call.”

“Why is that?”

The line crackled with static when Jacob answered, “It’s Lacey.”

Lacey. Damn.

His heart accelerated as his cock came to life, stirring and straining against his jeans. The name alone did all kinds of things to him—things he didn’t like to think about. From the first time he’d seen the newest Pleasant View resident in her billowy knee-length skirt, conservative blouse and Keds sneakers, he’d felt an instant attraction. She was a natural beauty, perhaps a decade or so younger than his thirty-five years, with beautiful waist-length mahogany hair, a heart-shaped face, full and lush lips and the most exotic pair of grass-green eyes he had ever seen.

Everyone had noticed when she moved into town. It had been impossible not to. She was well-known for writing children’s stories, and it had been as if a celebrity had arrived in their midst.

Sure, most of the fans were mothers with small children but it didn’t take long for the rest of the community to take notice. With the way she looked, she had the single male populace standing in line for her signature at local book signings in the hopes they might also walk away with her phone number or a night in her bed.

“I’ll call Pat,” Jacob said, breaking apart his thoughts. “He’s free at the moment.”

“No,” he snapped into the CB, livid at the thought of the town charmer giving Lacey a ride. Pat would try to wrangle her out of her panties the minute her perfectly rounded ass hit the passenger seat in his truck.

Striving for calm, he said evenly, “I’ll take care of it.”

There was laughter in Jacob’s voice when he responded. “I figured you would.”

Sliding the receiver back into its appropriate slot, Mike downshifted and turned the rig around.

His body was on fire, amped up for what he couldn’t have, and his now fully engorged dick pounded miserably. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman he’d envisioned having more than casual sex with.

Too fucking long.

Beginning a relationship was never easy, but adding BDSM into the mix made things far trickier.

He’d sworn off relationships entirely after the bitter fallout with his ex that had left him emotionally drained and exhausted, unwilling to take the risk of entering into anything remotely similar. It was almost impossible to find what he was looking for in a woman. Head games were too draining, and trying to find someone who was willing to be totally open, honest and trusting was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Inadvertently, his thoughts drifted back to Lacey. The first time they met, he’d believed she might be different. She’d been a breath of fresh air, opening up to him without any reservations.

When he’d moseyed up to her at Haddie’s and offered to buy her a drink, her mannerisms and fleeting glimpses told the Dom in him that she was a born submissive. Her nature was sweet, pleasing and delightful. He’d been certain she felt the connection. She hadn’t shied away from his teasing touches, her cheeks blushing beautifully as he’d casually run his finger along her jaw to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Their conversation had been relaxed and comfortable—the beginning of something extraordinary starting to take place.

Until Candice Bradshaw had arrived, whisked Lacey away to the bathroom and put a wrench in what he’d hoped might be a changing point in his life.

A white-hot wisp of anger stirred his blood. He wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel in a crushing, vise-like grip, squeezing until his knuckles turned white. One trip to the ladies’ room and Lacey had reappeared, apologized for having to leave and bid him a good night. When he attempted to offer her a ride home she had declined, refusing to meet his eyes as she paid her tab and slipped away.

It didn’t take a genius to know what Candice had told her—not that it was a secret. Several of the regulars at Haddie’s frequented the exclusive BDSM club Fantasia, in Nashville.

Including the snitch herself—not that Candice would own up to it. He’d gotten a firsthand glimpse of what the investigative reporter would do when she was down on her luck, even if it meant infiltrating a BDSM club to get the lowdown on a story.

At first he’d assumed Lacey was nervous about his dominant predisposition and had considered giving her a call to test the waters. It was natural for a woman who hadn’t been introduced to the scene to be frightened by the prospect of exploring her sexual boundaries. Then he’d learned she started dating Scott Barker. It wasn’t any wonder she wasn’t interested and had blown him off. What did a mechanic who drove a tow truck and had a taste for kink have over an attorney who owned a Jag and was as vanilla as an ice-cream cone?

Apparently not a damn thing.

This was no fucking good. He shouldn’t be traveling out of his way to save Lacey. It was going to be absolute hell and he had no one to blame but himself. Once he saw her, those longings would rise to the surface all over again. Like a dog who knew it would be kicked but just wanted to be petted, he’d smile, play nice and go home empty-handed.

Even in the heavy snow, it only took twenty minutes to arrive at the scene. No one was out and the roads were turning slushy. Her car was wedged into the railing, the tires buried in white midway to the hubcaps. As he pulled behind the older model Camry his headlights shone into the car and he saw a head dart up from the driver’s seat. Just knowing it was her stirred passions that were dangerous for them both.

“Shit,” he muttered, staring at the car covered in glistening ivory. It was late, they were on a dangerous and slippery stretch of road, and climbing into the snow to secure the winch to her car would be hell. This wouldn’t be a simple tow. He’d have to take her into town, come back for her car and face her not once, but twice.

He pressed the emergency brake button on the dash and left the motor running as he unlatched his seat belt. After he opened the door he jumped down, turned and closed it behind him. Several deep breaths in the frigid winter air cooled him down, taking the edge off his lust and extinguishing the fire in his blood. He’d always been polite to Lacey since that night at Haddie’s, and he wasn’t going to start being an asshole now. Five long strides took him to her door. Her eyes flared wide when she saw his face and her lips parted ever so slightly.

Could it be? Was she happy to see him?

Of course she’s happy, he berated himself. She called for a wrecker and now you’re here!

She cracked the door open. “Michael?”

“Hi, darlin’.” He couldn’t help but smile, warmed by her voice, the use of his entire given name and the curiosity in her gaze. “I see you’ve managed to get yourself in a spot of trouble. Don’t you know better than to drive on these roads when a storm is coming in?”

“I do now.” She grinned sheepishly, cheeks turning an alluring shade of pink.

He stood back and gave her room to climb out. She was dressed in jeans, fur-lined boots that came to mid-calf and an enormous tan-colored coat that swallowed her willowy form. Once she had her massive purse in place over her shoulder she closed the door and moved closer. The moment she neared he smelled the delectable perfume she wore, a mixture of jasmine and linen. Sexual need hit him like a punch to the gut, and he took a step back.