The Lawrence Browne Affair

by Cat Sebastian

  He scoffed at that—after he glanced at her chest again. She totally had him. “Of what? All the cases of blue balls your rack gave me when I was fifteen?”

  “What if I offered to make up for all those missed opportunities? All those Spin the Bottles and Sixty Seconds in Heaven that didn’t pan out?”

  Jake stopped wiping the bar and pegged her with a look, his dark eyes filled with barely controlled skepticism. “And how would you do that, juicy fruit?” He asked, referencing her childhood nickname—the one he’d given her the year she’d come into her body.

  If letting Jake finally see her topless was going to get him to actually open up and tell her what she needed to know about that first settlement in Fortune, then by all means she’d take her shirt off. It was worth it to her. Plus, it would quell that one nagging question she’d never had about them, which was awesome. Because she’d never wondered. “What if?” Not once. Why would she?

  More to the point, she was willing to do it because she was desperate. Enough so that she’d bare what she had for Jake. Because the truth was, beyond needing to prove to herself that she could achieve her dreams, he wasn’t all that wrong about her “spending habits”. Not that she was a mess with finances or anything. But she didn’t make that much as the librarian and it had been a hefty advance (to which she’d paid off the last big hunk of her school loans with. Responsible. Appropriate). And now she was out of cash, out of savings—debt free, but still broke.

  This was her opportunity. Her shot. Right here and now. No matter how devalued she felt over how it was playing out.

  Being a published author had always been her dream. And she was this close. She’d be an idiot not to flash him her goods if it meant finally wrapping things up. Only this time he wasn’t offering to pay her his hard-earned summer lawn-mowing job money—and she was no longer such an innocent little good girl. It was just Jake. They’d known each other since she was three. Besides, if there was a question mark dangling over them—which there wasn’t. Not in her head at anyway—then this was a quick and painless way to turn that question mark into a period.

  No question mark, no doubts—no dissatisfaction over what might have or might not have been.

  Apple took a deep breath. “I’m offering a trade. If you finally tell me what happened to the original founders of Fortune, I’ll show you my breasts. You’ve always wanted to see them.” Or so his drunken teenaged self had said, if that source could be trusted.

  Jake laughed at that. “What makes you think I’m still interested?”

  “Because you’re a guy.” Apple gave him a level look, unfazed.

  He merely shrugged, his broad, defined shoulders moving under his faded green T-shirt. Then he slid her a quick glance “Maybe I am. But you’re going to have to do better than that if you want me talking.”

  Apple leveled him with an incredulous look. “This is a big deal. Big offer from me here, Jake. What else could you possibly want?” And then she thought of everything she’d tried already and felt exasperated all over again, so she added on a frustrated rush, “What’s it going to take to get you to finally spill your family’s story?”

  The look he shot her had Apple slowly straightening from the bar, her pulse skittering. She’d never seen that particular gleam in his eye before. It was dark and intense and unreadable. Dangerous even.

  She swallowed hard.

  Then he placed his elbows on the bar and leaned toward her. He didn’t stop until they were almost nose-to-nose and she could see amber flecks in his chocolate eyes.

  “Here’s the deal, all right? If you really want me to talk about my myself, my family—hell, about all my frigging secrets because I know you and you’re too damned nosy and won’t stop with just my ancestors . . . ” He stopped suddenly and took a deep breath, his last words hanging suspended between them. But his gaze held hers steadily as one uncomfortable heartbeat, then two, passed before he continued speaking. This time he was more animated, seemingly building up steam about something.

  “Shit, you won’t stop until you’ve taken up permanent residence inside my head and know things about me I don’t even care to understand. Why? Because you’re Apple Woodman and you can’t help yourself. It’s what you’ve always done. And you think caving and fulfilling some outdated PG-13-rated teenage fantasy is going to be all it’ll take to get me singing about stuff I’ve never told anybody?”

  He straightened and crossed his arms, his face set in stern lines as he shook his head once—just once—with impact. “Nope. No good. There’s only one thing you can do.” He raised a hand, his long, thick index finger pointed straight in the air.

  Apple eyed him warily now as she slowly inched back from the bar, feminine fear racing across her skin. Maybe this wasn’t her brightest idea, after all.

  “Oh yeah, what could that be?”

  Jake leaned over the bar toward her again and crooked his finger at her, urging her closer. His gaze held hers as he smiled, slow and devastating, and said the words that sent her reeling, “If you want me to talk, juicy fruit, I get to see all of you naked.”

  Click to buy Talking Dirty now!

  An Excerpt from

  DARING TO FALL

  A Hidden Falls Novel

  By T. J. Kline

  Emma Jordan has returned home after her father’s death to run the animal sanctuary that had been his legacy. But strange things start happening, and it seems that someone is out to shut her down, someone who doesn’t mind putting lives in jeopardy to see it through. When Hidden Falls’ sexiest fireman starts to ask questions, Emma needs to make sure his charm doesn’t distract her from keeping her dreams alive.

  Emma tried to still the way her stomach flipped and somersaulted but when he climbed down from his raised truck, she couldn’t help but admire the fine figure he cut walking toward her. He had enough height that his massive muscles looked proportional instead of hulking. Yesterday he’d looked a little too pretty boy for her usual tastes but today, with his jaw unshaven and his hair slightly mussed, he was walking, breathing male perfection in maroon cotton and denim. He’d have been absolutely perfect, if she wasn’t so worried he was here for an alternative reason.

  “Two days in a row?” Emma crossed her arms in front of her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I’m here professionally this time, I’m afraid.” He stopped in front of his truck.

  Her pulse pounded in her veins, making her feel light-headed. She couldn’t let this happen, but she had no idea how to stop it. Her only choice was to try to play it cool and stall for more time. A small voice of reason reminded her that he wasn’t Fish and Game, Animal Control or the police department. She latched on to that one thread of hope.

  “And what sort of business could the local fire department possibly have with me?”

  Ben pulled a folded newspaper from his back pocket and held it up. She couldn’t make out anything but one word: Bobcat.

  She’d already read the article this morning, had already tried to convince herself that there was no reason for the paper’s unwarranted attack to sting. She’d already begun planning ways to rebut the accusations made against her. But it was going to take time, and money, and she had neither.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this wasn’t going to be a benevolent visit. “Did you bring a warrant? Because you’re not coming any further into the facility without one.”

  “Yesterday I was generous.”

  “Yet, here you are again.” She didn’t look away, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear, but she could feel the muscles in her back and legs quaking nervously, praying he didn’t see it.

  “Do I need to call my brother down at the police station and get one?” He mimicked her stance, crossing his arms over his massive chest. But when he did it, it made his biceps bulge and the sleeve of his shirt ride up his arm enough to reveal what appeared to be a wolf’s head as part of the sleeve tattoo circling his right arm.

  He
aven help me, she prayed as her heart bounced to her stomach and back up again before speeding up to triple time.

  “Tell me, did this town harass my father this much? It might account for his stroke.”

  “I can’t say it did.” His tipped his head to one side. “You know, maybe shutting yourself and the sanctuary off from the rest of the town hasn’t been the best idea. Perhaps if you let people see what you’re doing here, they’d be backing you instead of believing this.” He waved the paper slightly.

  “You’re saying that if I open my doors, they’ll welcome me with open arms.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Bullshit.”

  She moved down the stairs to stand in front of him, trying to give him the impression that she wasn’t intimidated by him. However, his sheer size was even more impressive this close and her idea backfired as her gaze slid up to meet his. “For your information, I wasn’t the one to close the doors to the public. That was my father’s doing. And I plan on reopening them as soon as I can, but it’s going to take some time.”

  His dark gaze slid over her slowly, as if he was trying to read her thoughts, feeling more like a caress than an appraisal. It intrigued her, actually making her heart skip a beat. Her reaction to him annoyed her. She wanted to be unaffected by him, to not feel this slow heat sliding through her veins, to not have the urge to grab his shirt and jerk him forward for what she was sure would be a kiss to make her forget any before. A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, a dimple creasing his left cheek.

  Damn cocky man knows exactly what effect he has on women.

  Emma wasn’t about to be just another of the harem she was sure fawned over him. She didn’t care how good looking he was or how his muscles might ripple when he walked. Okay, she appreciated it, but that wasn’t the same thing as caring. She would keep her wits about her when this particular handsome man smiled at her, if only because she was sure most didn’t, and she was smart enough to hide any attraction she might have to him beneath her annoyance at him wielding his authority over her this way.

  She narrowed her eyes, studying him. She wanted to tell him to leave, to order him off the property and insist he not come back without a warrant. She had no idea what he really wanted and she already had enough trouble with the town and its rumors. However, she got the feeling that, if causing her more trouble had been his intent, Ben would have called in the police already. She tipped her head back, trying to get a better look at him and felt her make-shift bun loosen, coming unwound. Just like her resistance.

  “Fine. I’m not sure why you’re here, but I have nothing to hide.” She jerked at the end of her hair, letting her auburn tresses fall around her shoulders, shielding her like a curtain and headed for the golf cart. “Well? What are you waiting for? Hop in. I don’t have all day to waste.”

  Ben slid in beside her, his arm brushing against hers, the heat from his skin practically burning her. He exuded raw sexuality, making the close confines of the golf cart seem even smaller, and she edged farther from him on the small seat. Twisting the key, her gaze fell on the folded newspaper Ben set in his lap and she was able to read the full headline.

  Damn! When was this town ever going to cut her some slack?

  Click to buy Daring to Fall now!

  COPYRIGHT

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  An excerpt from Talking Dirty copyright © 2016 by Candice Wakoff.

  An excerpt from Daring to Fall copyright © 2016 by Tina Klinesmith.

  THE LAWRENCE BROWNE AFFAIR. Copyright © 2017 by Cat Sebastian. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  Digital Edition FEBRUARY 2017 ISBN: 978-0-06-264250-9

  Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-264251-6

  Avon Impulse and the Avon Impulse logo are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America.

  Avon and HarperCollins are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries

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