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eBook Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance/Mystery/Crime
eBook Description: There's something very wrong going on with the Bald Eagles of Washington State. The population of endangered birds has become even more elusive, and now one has reappeared, dead, with a camera wired into its brain. Into the thick of this mystery strides Daniel Vogel, Special Agent for National Security, and none too pleased at being summoned from his best beloved's side just to go deep undercover as a federal game warden out in the middle of overgrown nowhere. His only companion is Morgan Macavee--a civilian fire-spotter with a bad attitude, a foul mouth, and wicked good aim with a shillelagh. After three weeks isolated with Morgan's bad grammar and green lipstick, Vogel gains a new respect for the natural resources of the Pacific Northwest, namely, that no matter how many you cut, there are always plenty of switches waiting to be used. And with Morgan in the picture, plenty of reasons to use them. Mature subject matter for adults only.

eBook Publisher: Newsite Web Services Publishing, Published: 2006, 2006
Fictionwise Release Date: August 2009

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Daniel Vogel was of the firm belief that everyone should take a five hour flight across country in the middle of August at least once in his or her life, preferably in coach class, next to a screaming infant. He believed this, not because he thought there were masochistic tendencies in the human race which needed exorcising (well, not particularly because of that), but because it took an experience of that nature to truly and deeply savor a hot shower in quiet and pleasant surroundings, and a hot shower was a thing too often unappreciated in this hectic world.

Daniel indulged himself with just such a shower, thoroughly relished, and then dressed in clothing that was as close to casual as he would permit himself to come at just after eleven in the morning--white shirt and trousers, and slippers on his feet. Comfortable enough to relax in if he chose simply to stay in, yet easily accessorized into respectability if he were encouraged to step out. The subject of his attire laid to rest, Daniel opened the door out of the washroom, and there in his bedroom, standing before the wardrobe, folding his luggage away into drawers, was a statuesque blonde in a very Parisian maid's uniform.

He was loathe to say anything immediately. The maid was not facing him, and she kept her heels together and her long legs very straight as she bent to set an armload of his socks into the very bottom of the wardrobe, an activity which lifted the hem of her ruffled skirts past the dark cut of her garters, right up to the lower cleavage of her very shapely bottom. A view of that sort demanded admiration before action, and so Daniel paused in the doorway to first admire, and then to act.

"I believe," he said, strolling around to the side of her and laying one hand protectively atop his garment bag, "I left instructions with the desk that my possessions were not to be handled."

The maid blinked her stunning blue eyes at him and tossed off a fetching little laugh. "Ah, but you did not mean it, monsieur! Such a distinguished voyageur as yourself should not have to be his own servant!" She leaned in close, cupping one hand at her painted mouth in a play of secrecy. "The concierge, he tells me these things to keep from me, ah, la pourboire!" She giggled at him and returned to manhandling his socks.

"I assure you, madam, he did not. At least, not in this instance." He took the socks out of her hands and placed them firmly back in the leather case from which they had been unlawfully liberated. "And if you do not desist in unpacking me at once, I shall be forced to find some way of impressing my sincerity upon very tender parts of you."

She pouted at him prettily for a few seconds, and then flounced over to the French doors and pulled them wide open to admit a very handsome view. "The gardens are open for monsieur's pleasure until dix-neuf heures, and la cuisine will be made available to you at all times. Monsieur is, bien sur, encouraged to take advantage of all hotel services." She dipped down in a spray of black and white and came up with Daniel's shoes. "I could perhaps have these cleaned for you?"

"Thank you, no." He took them out of her hands and set them again on the floor. "And I will remind you again not to rummage through my belongings."

She stuck her lip at him a second time, but her eyes were sparkling. "Oh, but monsieur cannot mean it! Come, I have seen a shirt here that is missing a button, no?" She turned and began to skip her hands lightly through the hanging shirts she had already put away in the wardrobe. "I could sew it back on for you! Surely monsieur does not wish to go about his important work without his button?"

"Madam--" he began.

"It is in, oh how do you say ... la trousse de rassage ... your little shaving baggage there, you keep in the bottom of the case voila!" She snapped her fingers at him, her back still turned as she hunted for his wounded shirt. "Bring it here, monsieur, I will soon have repaired it for you!"

Daniel sent a considering glance over his shoulder at the suitcase she indicated. His shaving kit was indeed packed within, at the very bottom, and indeed it did contain the errant button from the shirt she was perusing. He didn't, however, move to fetch it. Instead, he returned his gaze to the maid's back as she prattled merrily on about the sundry services she provided on behalf of the hotel. Silencing her was as simple as closing his hand on her wrist.

"I left instructions with the desk that my possessions were not to be handled," he said firmly, taking the two swift steps necessary to bring him to the foot of his bed. He raised his voice only slightly, just enough to speak over the flood of her startled protestations, as he tipped her over his lap. "Now let me see if I can impress upon you the importance of strict adherence to said instructions."