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Hot and Tough, A Blake Rock Novel #1
Hot and Tough, A Blake Rock Novel #1
Hot and Tough, A Blake Rock Novel #1
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Hot and Tough, A Blake Rock Novel #1

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Blake Rock, an ambitious lawyer on the cusp of a life-changing promotion, is given the job of representing a wealthy client intent on driving a small competitor out of business. Blake soon discovers that the competitor, a woman of great charm and a cloudy past, is not at all what he expected. Neither are her hard-boiled employees, one of whom, a beautiful bodybuilder who goes by the name, Honeysuckle, might just end up killing him, that is, if she doesn't fall in love with him first.

"Peters has created a dynamic new character in the lovely and potentially lethal person of Honeysuckle, a woman who demands to be in charge and who takes no guff from any man." Theodora

"Fun, fast-paced and good-natured. A great action read, with a bit of romance thrown in." Damsel

LanguageEnglish
PublisherT.L. Peters
Release dateMay 26, 2012
ISBN9781476076799
Hot and Tough, A Blake Rock Novel #1
Author

T.L. Peters

"There's no question that Peters is a master wordsmith." Gerry B's Book Reviews About the author: T.L. Peters is an ex-lawyer who enjoys playing the violin and giving his dog long walks in the woods. In between, he writes novels.

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    Book preview

    Hot and Tough, A Blake Rock Novel #1 - T.L. Peters

    Hot and Tough, A Blake Rock Novel #1

    By T.L. Peters

    Smashwords Edition

    Copyright 2012, T.L. Peters

    License Notes

    This e book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

    To read more about the author and his other books, including his popular Jake Stone series, go to http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/tlpeters.

    She's just too tough, or is she?

    Chapter 1

    Blake Rock believed that if he hit the tread mill for a week or so, pumped a little iron, maybe jogged through a few of his lunch hours, he could shed those annoying five pounds of flab that had built up lately around his pasty waist line. He was noticing that his suits were fitting a little snug, and he was too cheap to buy a whole new wardrobe, even though he was on the verge of the big time.

    The firm's top partner, Barney Claworth, had just tapped him for a new assignment. It was for a prized client too, Evan Price, the casino baron and mastermind behind an entertainment empire that extended from the Catskills to Florida's Gold Coast. This was the first piece of legal work the aging mogul had tossed toward the venerable firm of Dick and Sludge, and it would be Blake's job to make sure it wasn't the last.

    He was up to the task, Blake thought. Magna Cum Laude at Harvard Law, then eight years slaving away in the bowels of Dick and Sludge, and not one blemish on his sterling record. All he had to do was keep old man Price happy, and Blake's partnership slot was secure. Then he could kick back and relax, or at least take a vacation now and again.

    But Blake had more on his mind that merely short term rewards. Blake figured that if he kept his nose clean and worked for fifteen more years, twenty at the outside, in the process socking away every spare dime of his lavish compensation package, he could retire early to a nice easy lifestyle on a remote beach somewhere, so long as he stayed single. Women brought mortgages, kids, expenses, headaches, all trouble in Blake Rock's narrow and calculating world.

    Blake shuffled toward the long rack of black iron dumbbells. He picked up a thirty pounder, but it weighed a little heavy on his spongy forearms. He let his spindly fingers glide over the hard metal stacks until he reached the five pound weights. He lifted one in each hand and began doing bicep curls. At the tenth repetition his forearms were burning.

    As Blake was beginning to wonder if he might have rushed into this exercise game a little too fast, three big lugs strolled over and surrounded him. They had arms like tree trunks, and their bare chests resembled bronzed beer barrels. Two of them were squat, dark-haired, fire-plug type of guys, while the third one was tall, lanky in the legs and blond.

    Our gym is for serious iron pumping, one of the short guys snarled. This is not some general, all purpose facility. The clientele here is exclusive.

    Blake looked the thug over and shrugged.

    Yeah right. Why don't you do us all a favor and take a shower the next time before you venture out in public?

    The other squat guy instantly shoved Blake in the chest with his meaty paw, while the tall fellow grabbed the young lawyer's wrist and yanked it around Blake's slender back.

    We're not messing around, the tall blond barked.

    I paid my membership dues, Blake shouted. You have no right to kick me out of here.

    You can unpay them just as easily, the tall guy shouted back.

    She was watching this all from her comfortable perch on the bench press, where she had just lifted three hundred eighty five pounds a record ten consecutive times, or at least it was a record for her. Usually she stayed out of trouble if she could avoid it. There was no point inserting an unscheduled fight into her rigorous exercise regimen. But these three louts were getting on her nerves, throwing their weight around way too much for her more tolerant tastes. Sure, Ray's Club was the hot spot for bodybuilders throughout the area, but that didn't mean an occasional runt couldn't join. She liked runts, the cute ones anyway. This guy didn't look very cute, but he had gumption, and she liked gumption in a man. She saw so little of it.

    She stood up and threw out her beefy chest, as though warning anyone who was smart enough to notice that she was nobody to mess with. Apparently the three thugs weren't too sharp, because they continued their brazen mugging.

    She strutted over toward the gaggle of men, her thick arms swinging heavily at her well contoured sides.

    Let him go, she snapped.

    One of the squat guys immediately squared off against her.

    We don't take orders from women, he warned, flexing his shoulders menacingly, especially not from some slut like you.

    She glared at him and then paused to smile stiffly at his two friends.

    I asked once, she replied cooly. I'm not asking twice.

    Blake would have chimed in with an urgent appeal of his own, but he was too busy trying to pry the blond guy's thick arm from around his own scrawny neck. The fellow's elbow had cut off his windpipe, and things were already looking a little hazy. Blake was still alert enough to get a good look at the six feet two inches of shapely muscle coming to his rescue. He just hoped that she had arrived soon enough, and that she could handle the job. It turned out that Blake didn't have to wait long to get his answer.

    She reached out with her right hand and grabbed one of the short guys around the throat. Then she lifted him up and held him in mid-air, his chunky legs flailing helplessly, while the other squat guy tried to circle around behind her. His attempt at a sneak attack failed miserably when she back kicked him in the groin and sent him squealing to the mat. She completed the conquest of these impudent fellows by tossing his fire-plug friend on top of him, where they proceeded to roll around on the floor like a couple of blown out tires.

    The blond guy quickly released his choke hold on Blake's neck and hurled himself at the female intruder. But when he slammed against her chest, he stopped dead still as though he had just crashed into a brick wall. She peeled him off her curvy physique with a mighty tug of her left hand, and then added insult to his injury by throwing him halfway across the gym. He landed in a tangled mess of his own arms and legs right in the middle of the inner mechanism of a universal weight machine, where he spent some time emitting a series of panicked groans and whimpers and curses. The two squat guys had already turned tail and raced out the front door.

    The big woman patted Blake on his frail shoulder and asked him if he was all right.

    I'm fine, Blake whimpered, panting and rubbing his aching neck. You were wonderful.

    She laughed, her chest jutting out like some densely ridged mountain.

    I haven't seen you here before, she noted cheerfully.

    I just started. I guess I'm a little out of shape.

    She gazed at his thin, hairy, pale calves and the jiggly lumps of flesh underneath his off color sweat shirt.

    Maybe you should try a more conventional gym, she suggested. Those clowns were right about one thing. Mostly just bodybuilders and elite athletes use this place to work out.

    Blake looked around at the mirrored walls and the towering stacks of barbells. They were alone now, except for the tall blond fellow who was still trying to extricate himself from the universal machine's unforgiving maze of handles and levers and cross bars.

    I'll take my chances, Blake said. What's your name?

    You can call me Honeysuckle, she said, taking a deep breath so that her chest heaved out enough to brush against Blake's shoulder. The glancing blow was enough to back him off a step. It's not my real name, she continued, but I like it. It's what I go by. What's your name?

    Blake Rock, he replied smartly, as though he were addressing a senior partner. I'm an attorney, and it's my real name.

    Sounds like a tough guy's name. You don't look so tough.

    You should see me in court.

    She smiled as she ran her thick forefinger along his chin.

    Well, if I ever get carried away and kill someone, I'll know who to call.

    Do you get into scuffles often? Blake asked, eyeing the thick curves along her hips and thighs.

    She was wearing black ankle high shoes, sparklingly clean white socks and a two piece black leather outfit that was so tight he could see her muscles squirming beneath it. She stuck out her chest again and banged her right boob off his jaw. Once more, he found himself stepping clumsily backward.

    You might say that, she observed in a husky tone.

    What do you do? he asked, gazing admiringly at her ripped and hard cleavage.

    You ask a lot of questions for a little guy.

    It's my job to ask questions. I'm rather good at it.

    She eyed him imperiously.

    Then it's my job not to answer them, unless you want to try and make me.

    Blake felt his blood boiling and his crotch tingling. He couldn't recall the last time a woman had had such an effect on him. He shook his head and glanced at the matted floor. He needed to calm down. A relationship, especially with such a challenging female, was the last thing he needed.

    Well, I better be heading back to the office, he murmured. Thanks for bailing me out.

    But you've barely worked up a sweat, she replied, grinning sharply now.

    He sighed regretfully but nevertheless tried to back away. His progress was impeded, however, by the fact that she had just clamped her powerful fingers around his jaw. He felt his lips involuntarily begin to pucker up toward her face.

    Pleae let me go, he whimpered.

    She instantly released her grip and then laughed heartily as Blake scampered in quick and silent retreat toward the locker room. This new guy was a bit smarmy and even pathetic in some ways, she concluded, but when push came to shove he still managed to show some gumption. And for as soft and out of shape as he was, he was still kind of cute, she thought as she returned to the bench press for another set.

    Chapter 2

    After showering and changing into his pin-striped suit, Blake left the gym by a back door. He didn't want to tempt another encounter with the big female body builder, not only because she could kick his butt with one hand tied behind her back, but more importantly, because he liked her. How could he not?

    She was a knockout with her thick black hair, sharp eyebrows glistening above her deep brown eyes, a beautifully sculpted face, and a body that looked as though it had just been poured out of a curvy cement mixer. Moreover, she had nobly saved him from those three vicious thugs. He owed her, a circumstance which made him feel doubly uncomfortable.

    Blake didn't really know how he should feel about a woman coming to his rescue, but for the moment, despite his intellectual uneasiness, part of him savored the experience, or at least the memory of it. Her strong presence had made him tingle inside, and not just around his crotch either. When she had grabbed his jaw between her fingers, his heart had throbbed like a teenager's on a first date. It was a sure sign he should stay far away from her.

    He had only chosen that gym because it was close to the office, but now he began to reconsider his membership. Women caused enough problems when they were the weaker sex. But when they were the ones sporting the muscle, along with the propensity to use it, there was no telling what hellish nightmares they could conjure at a moment's notice, especially for a guy like him who had little experience in matters of the heart.

    Blake decided that he would need to be more careful where he spent his free time. That shouldn't be a problem though, since he didn't expect to have much free time in the coming months.

    Blake was in an all out push toward making himself a partner, a potentially perilous journey that led directly through the luxurious office of his mentor at the firm, Barney Claworth, and as well through the vast financial empire of Barney's impressive new client, Evan Price, both of whom were waiting for him at the smartly polished Mahogany conference table in Barney's senior partner digs on the thirty eighth floor of one of Pittsburgh's more dignified skyscrapers.

    Barney, his tailored suit glistening like the early morning sun, was sitting on the far side of the table, his narrow back to the window, while Price, his white hair richly combed back over his cancer blemished scalp, paced anxiously in front, his pale hands clamped stiffly behind his back. They didn't notice Blake come in, so the young lawyer got to eavesdrop for a few seconds.

    I think it's a waste of time, Price bellowed. We should use stronger measures. My people are just itching to take her out.

    That would look bad, Barney replied calmly, his slender hands folded neatly on the desk. "There are other, more subtle ways around this little problem.

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