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Stuck in a rut at work, junior architect Lacey Rogers sees her new project as her ticket to the top, only to find herself shackled to the firm’s golden boy, Scott Dalton. Worse, he treats her assignment to work with him as an insult.

Struggling with his own aspirations, Scott finds his confidence taking a nosedive when he’s assigned to work with Lacey on a secret project. Is this a subtle demotion, a sign that his star is waning? Despite his resistance to her unconventional methods, he can’t help but be drawn to her.

As they reluctantly team up to teach a Salsa class for seniors as research for their project , the pulsating rhythm of the music and the sensuous dance moves ignite a passion between them they can’t deny. But can their connection survive beyond the dance floor? Is this just a workplace fling or the foundation for a future together?

Saved by the Salsa

Sullivan’s Creek Book 1

By Barbara Barrett

Thanks to the hiking boots, she managed to get halfway down the incline without mishap. Then she stepped on a wet, leafy branch which, like a slalom, sent her sailing down the rest of the hill directly toward the submerged architect. 

“Oh! Oh, no!” All she could get out before she, too, made contact with the tree trunk and slipped under. 

She landed with a thud, flat up against Scott. 

“What the …” 

The impact of her landing pushed him farther under the tree. She was almost completely under herself, except for her head and shoulders. One arm was free, but the other lodged against Scott, immobile. His face rested in her chest. 

A sea of black mud fringed with green grass and weeds churned around them. The redolent smell was so overpowering it made her want to faint. She attempted to crawl out, but she couldn’t move her legs, which, along with Scott’s body, were wedged tight against the tree trunk. The bark cut into the backs of her legs through her jeans. 

Lacey tried to grasp something with her free hand and pull herself out, but all she could reach were wet leaves and more mud. “Oh, Scott, I’m so sorry.” 

“Thought … you were … getting Cam.” 

“No time. Had to help you myself,” she said to a wayward branch draped over the side of the tree. 

She felt, rather than witnessed, his reaction as he shouted into her shirt. “Now we’re both stuck.” 

The branch flipped out of the way before she could secure a grip. “Maybe not. If I can worm my way out of here.” 

“Push up with your feet.” 

She tried his suggestion. 

“Ow! You mauled my shin!” 


“Can that idea.” 

Had to find another way. “Okay. Let’s try this. Are you able to move your arms?” 

“A few inches, maybe,” he replied. “Why?” 

“Are you able to boost me up? Even a little? Then I can reach one of the branches.” 

Silence. Was he considering her idea or had he passed out from lack of air? “Scott?” Her voice cracked. 


“Thank goodness. I thought you’d lost consciousness.” 

“If only.” 

“So? Can you give me a boost?” 

Again silence. Finally, “You don’t seem to appreciate the geography down here.” 

What was he getting at? All she was asking for was a little lift. 

“Through no fault of its own, my hand is fast becoming intimately familiar with your rear end.” 

It wasn’t a branch pinching her backside? “Oh.” Realization shot liquid heat through her lower portions. 


If they didn’t proceed, the physical torture of their confinement would only increase. Did she dare allow his hand any closer to her private areas? She took a deep breath, which initiated a coughing fit from Scott. “Go ahead. We’ve got to get out of here.” 

She had to rethink her decision when a shock wave from the increased pressure of his hand on her derriere rolled through her body. Her insides ignited while she quivered with an excitement having nothing to do with impending liberation. 

“Lacey? Did it work?” His voice grew even hoarser as his face became buried in her bare abdomen, where her shirt had pulled up. 

Still couldn’t reach the branch, and her boots now dug into what must be his thighs. “Just a little higher. I’m close but not there.” 

He breathed a one-word response into her stomach. Why couldn’t he shut up? Every time he said something, his hot breath tickled and tantalized in tandem.

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