Read an excerpt from Close Contact by Lori Foster

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There’s no resisting a desire like this…

MMA fighter Miles Dartman’s casual arrangement with personal shopper Maxi Nevar would be many men’s fantasy. She seeks him out, they have mindblowing sex, she leaves. Rinse, repeat. Yet lately, Miles wants more. And when Maxi requests his services via the Body Armor security agency, he’s ready to finally break through her defenses—and protect her day and night.

Receiving a large inheritance has brought chaos and uncertainty into Maxi’s life. Her ex has resurfaced, along with lots of former “friends,” and someone is making mysterious threats. Then there’s Miles, who doesn’t ask for anything…except her trust. Pleasure is easy. Now Maxi has to give her heart as well as her body…or risk losing a man who could be everything she needs.


Miles rode the private elevator in the Body Armor agency to his boss’s very upscale office. The early-morning summons left him confused and he didn’t like it. He’d been in the shower when she’d called at 7:00 a.m. Her message said only that he was to get there as quickly as possible. She had a surprise for him.

Of course, he’d called her back, but she’d told him she’d explain everything once he made it to the office.

He’d finished his extensive training only a few weeks ago, learning enhanced computer skills and practicing his shot with a variety of guns. He’d settled on the Glock as his preferred weapon, but he carried a few other toys, as well.

So far, he’d had two cases, both of them pretty routine. He’d helped to control pushy fans at a sporting event for a baseball player during a PR stint, and then he’d escorted a big-time author with a new movie deal to some local signings around the area.

Easy peasy.

He missed competing, damn it. Missed the cage and the physical exertion. If fate hadn’t played him a dirty hand, he’d be at it still, fighting his way to a championship belt.

The loss of his fight career was only one of many regrets he suffered lately, and as usual, he shoved it from his mind, determined to live in the here and now.

The elevator opened and he stepped out, going straight to Sahara Silver’s posh office. As he passed Enoch Walker, Sahara’s personal assistant, he said, “She’s expecting me.”

“Indeed she is,” Enoch said without looking up from his PC screen. “Go right on in.”

Did he detect an unusual note in Enoch’s voice? Hard to tell when Enoch stayed focused on his task.

Miles liked Enoch a lot. He was a little dude with a will of iron and mad organizational skills. Always friendly, incredibly smart and damned reliable.

Because the door was closed, Miles knocked, and a mere second later it opened, almost as if Sahara had been waiting for him.

Oozing satisfaction, she smiled. “Miles.”

He paused, suddenly on guard. So far, his boss had been something of an enigma. On the outside, she was a real looker, a shapely five feet eight inches of sass with glossy mink-brown hair, direct blue eyes and the demeanor of an Amazon. On the inside, she probably wrestled alligators and won. Always polished, always in killer heels and always sporting attitude.

“That’s a different smile for you,” he noted. “Why do I feel like I’m about to be offered as a sacrifice to angry gods?”

The smile widened, then she stepped back to allow him to enter. “Thank you for getting here so quickly.”

“You didn’t leave me much choice with that cryptic message.”

“I’m never cryptic.”

“No? Then what was so urgent that I—” That was when Miles saw her. His eyes flared as he noted her huddled position in a padded chair, a steaming cup of coffee held in both hands. “Maxi?”

When he said her name, she straightened but didn’t look at him.

“What are you doing here?” For two months, he’d waited for her, hoping she’d get in touch again.

She hadn’t.

From the start, she’d made it clear that he was a convenient booty call and nothing more. That should have worked great for him, but instead it had driven him nuts.

He’d finally, well, almost, put her out of his mind with the job switch and move to a new apartment. Now here she was, at Body Armor of all places.

A slow burn started, making him blind to Sahara standing close, at least until she said, “Your friend has had something of an ordeal.”

“And she came to me?” Umbrage churned, made sharper by other losses at the same time. He fashioned a sarcastic grin. “Surprising, since she walked away without a goodbye.”

Maxi looked at him then. Those dark eyes he’d always found so mesmerizing were now glazed and somehow troubled.

And they stared at him like a lifeline.

It dawned on him that she looked terrible, when he hadn’t thought that possible. One of the very few things she’d ever revealed to him was her occupation as a personal stylist, a job that seemed to suit her, since the lady had always looked very put together.

Not this time, though. Dried leaves clung to her long, tangled blond hair. Gone were the trendy clothes, and instead she wore an oversize flannel shirt, faded cutoffs and bright green rubber boots dotted with yellow ducks. The ridiculous clothes made her look endearing.

Concern sharpened his tone. “What the hell happened to you?”

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About the Author

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Lori Foster is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author with books from a variety of publishers, including Berkley/Jove, Kensington, St. Martin’s, Harlequin and Silhouette. Lori has been a recipient of the prestigious RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award for Series Romantic Fantasy, and for Contemporary Romance. For more about Lori, visit her Web site at

Connect with Lori: Website | Facebook | Twitter

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