read me: fools rush in

 An  undercover agent must appeal to a space pirate’s better instincts—and  his heart—to help her infiltrate a slave labor factory and turn the tide  in an alien civil war.   

RT BOOK REVIEWS says:  FOOLS RUSH IN "combine[s] outer space adventure with romance, hot sex  and espionage. You'll be rooting for these characters long after the  story ends! Four stars." 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?  This is a restricted area.”

Still  clinging to the grab bar, Rayna glanced up at the captain’s face.  His  expression didn’t match the censure in his words.  The furrows between  his brows didn’t look like anger, but she couldn’t quite interpret their  true meaning.

“For a pirate ship, you sure have a lot of rules.”

“Discipline is necessary no matter what kind of ship it is.”  His lips curved upwards.  “Now answer my question.”

Sam  Murphy really was a fine-looking man, a dangerously fine-looking man,  with those green eyes and a face that belonged in holovids rather than  on the deck of a real ship.  But damned if he was going to back her up,  even in zero G.

“You saw what I was doing; I was working out.   The ribs have healed—almost.  I didn’t think I’d have to ask permission,  especially since I was back here with the waste processors.”
Murphy  leaned in closer.  In spite of herself, Rayna inhaled and took him in.   God, he smelled good—like . . . the first breath of fresh air dirtside  after months on a ship.  For a second she was lost, drifting as surely  as if she had let go of her mooring on the hull.

“This is my ship, Little Bit.”  His voice was a seductive purr.  “You need permission for everything.”

Heat  flashed from the top of her head to the bottoms of her feet.  Rayna  meant to shout, but her voice came out in a matching sultry whisper.   “Why you puffed up, self-righteous, arrogant—” 

She got her hormones in check and started over.  “Control seems to be  your middle name, Murphy.  Well, let me tell you something:  I joined  Rescue because Independence is mine.”

“Do I have to  remind you you’re a guest on my ship?”  His expression had tightened  into a smoky scowl.  “The one place I have plenty of room onboard is the  brig—maybe you’d like accommodations there.”  His eyes held hers like  he meant it, but a muscle jumped in his jaw.  His tell, she realized.   He wanted something quite different for her.  That heat flashed through  her once again, and this time she was certain it had nothing to do with  anger.

Damn it.

“All right, yeah, I saw the big  ‘Keep Out’ signs.  But every other square centimeter of space on this  tug is occupied.  I needed a workout, and zero G is a good place to get  started.  I didn’t think anyone would be back here.”

His  expressive face changed yet again, the hard lines around his mouth and  eyes going soft as the tension drained from him.  “Any day but today  you’d have been right.”

“What’s different about today?”

He scanned the empty hull space before he answered.  “The ship’s on lockdown; I’ve ordered a full security sweep.”

Understanding  dawned.  All that bluster was because Murphy was feeling protective.   She looked up at him and, yep, there it was, shining from those eyes,  despite his stern refusal to smile. 

But just because her body  responded instantly with eager anticipation didn’t mean her mind should  be onboard with this program.  Seriously, how would it ever work between  them?  He was a pirate, for chrissake.  According to him, she was an  interfering bleeding heart.  The only thing they had in common was a  disregard for authority, and they would never even agree on the reasons  for that.

Oh, but, damn, he smelled so good.  He kept floating  closer, and she was so tired.  She wanted to let go and settle into  those arms.

“You miscalculated.”  His arm was around her shoulders again, his lips against her ear.

“What do you mean?”  Her protest came out in a breathy murmur.

“You’re  exhausted.  You weren’t ready for this much exertion.”  He was so  close, so warm, encouraging her to let go.  “I bet you didn’t ask Doc  Berta for permission either.”

She finally gave up and transferred  her hold to him, arms and legs wrapping around his hard body.  He  hooked both feet around the handholds below them, anchored one hand and  used the other to clasp her to him; she was so small in comparison, his  arm stretched all the way across her lower back.

She looked up at him, lips inches from his.  “I don’t ask permission for anything.”