Kate Angell

Jacy's Java defined 'bright'. Prior to the grand opening of the coffee shop, Jacy had decorated like a wild woman. Free-spirited and flamboyant, she'd tossed buckets of paint onto the walls, laughing when the colors mixed and ran like a box of melted crayons.

The colors reflected like a kaleidoscope off the shiny black-tiled floor when the morning sun shot through the windows along the east wall. Hung from the original gilt celing, gold fans stirred the air. The scent of strong coffee blended with freshly baked sugar-and-spice cookies and gingerbread men. Red chili pepper Christmas lights glowed against the capuccino machine all year round.

Zen Driscoll studied the crowd and nudged Risk Kincaid with his elbow. "Major babe at one o'clock."

Risk recognized the babe. "That's Jacy Grayson."

Jacy of the lavender hair and heart-shaped face. Violet contacts colored her normally blue eyes. Flashes of a fuchsia tube top and coral slacks appeared beneath a long, black velvet equestrian jacket. Turquoise earrings and a chunky bracelet pulled her outfit together.

She rounded the corner of the counter, and Zen's jaw dropped. "She's wearing combat boots."

Risk grinned. She certainly was. On Jacy, the boots looked almost feminine. She walked lightly, as if she wore ballet slippers. All swinging hips and sassy attitude. And looking absolutely beautiful to him.