<B>Beautifully wonderfully toe-curlingly complex.</B><br><br><br><br>That's Killian O'Sullivan—running back for the New York Vulcans—complete with lucky green jockstrap and an appetite for trouble. A smart woman would steer well clear but I've decided to head right for the pretty blue eyes of the storm.<br><br><br><br>I find him one night half-naked in an alleyway (long story) short on pants but definitely not short on something else. Helping a stranger in need is one thing but dating a Vulcan is quite another. He lives on a knife's edge. Me? I've got . . . complications (even longer story).<br><br><br><br>It's a solid no-go. Absolutely not. Still there's a flicker of desire that's working itself between my legs that seems damn near unstoppable if I let it burn unattended. But a guy who looks good in a skirt (yep another story) and smells like a bottle of Jameson?<br><br><br><br>I have an inkling a little tingle that tells me it would be a bad no good terrible kind of idea.<br><br><br><br>Because getting into his pants is one thing. But getting into his head is quite another.<br><br><br><br>Contains mature themes.
