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“Good evening. Miss Sinclair, am I correct?”
Emily pushed pause and then rewound the moment in her head. The way he spoke, with the faintest hint of snobbish scorn delivered with uncompromising arrogance struck her like a match scraped across a rough surface. The flashpoint at ignition detonated a stealth explosion that rocked her world.
Conspicuously aware of her underwear being flooded with warmth, she held back a shiver. Who was this man and how had he managed to cower her with seven words and make her wet at the same time?
Her hand slid off her hip and she shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. For the second time in an hour, she struggled with the strangling effect her pants seemed to be having. Self-consciously, she reached a hand to fiddle with a tiny dangling earring as he continued to rake her with his eyes.
Startled by her reaction, she cleared her throat and made an effort to inject some strength to her spine.
“How do you know my name?” she barked a bit too harshly.
There were white wooden fence rails separating her side of the porch from the other occupant of the twin home, running from the house’s stone exterior to the stone column supporting the overhang. Maybe five or six feet wide, the low partition and the tall stone on either side made Emily feel boxed in. When he stepped closer to the railing and arched a perfect eyebrow at her, a shiver started at the crown of her skull and traveled at light speed into the soles of her feet.
“Are you always this rude when you meet a man, or is it just me?”
“What?” His pompous question brought her back from wherever the hell she’d been with astonishing swiftness. Rude? She wasn’t being rude. She was a woman living alone who found a strange man leaving her neighbor’s home. She was suspicious and if he read it as rude, well that was his damn problem.
Emily busted balls for a living. These days, it was the only way to run a small business if success was the objective. Sure, most of the people she supervised were women, but that hadn’t stopped her from adopting a no-nonsense, practical approach to whatever came at her during the workday. Snapping to attention and pursing her lips was simply a natural response. So was being a bitch.
Crossing her arms defensively, the hip cock she’d perfected fell into place, and she went into smack down mode. Whoever this guy was, he needed to know from the outset exactly who he was dealing with.
“I’m sorry,” she bit out. Returning his contemptuous scorn, she eyed him dispassionately. “Are you under the impression I’m an idiot? I find a strange man on my porch, leaving a house he doesn’t live in, who knows my name. If my reaction seems rude, then you sir, have a problem.”
Without stopping to think through what she was doing, Emily reached into her pocket and took out her phone. A faint whisper in the far back of her mind urged caution, but she silenced it with a determined huff. He wouldn’t be the first person she’d threatened to call the police on.
“Tell me who the fuck you are and why you’re leaving Mrs. Ash’s place or I’m calling the cops.”
The look he gave her was uncomfortable. She held her ground though and refused to back down. When his head shook slightly with disapproval, she swallowed hard and felt her heart rate increase. How the hell did he do that?
In a voice that commanded and spooked at the same time, he shocked her in a way she’d never experienced before.
“A mouth as tantalizing as yours should never use vulgar language.”
Her face froze with her mouth open and eyes wide in a stupefied expression that said, ‘What the fuck?’
And then he put out his hand. It sort of hung there, stretching across the railing, as she stared at it.
“Miss Sinclair,” he drawled. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Adam Jeffries and Sylvia, Mrs. Ash, is my aunt.”
Jeffries. Yeah. She knew that name. Sylvia’s sister was named Jeffries.
“Where is Sylvia?”
He didn’t move. Like, not even an inch. He merely stood his ground with his hand extended in her direction.
“This would be where you shake my hand and say something polite about how nice it is to meet me.”
Just like that, her hand shot out awkwardly. It looked to her as though she was learning to use her limbs for the first time. When her hand slotted perfectly into his, she had the distinct impression of being claimed. In her mind’s eye, Emily was shocked to find an alternate scenario showing her on her knees with Adam Jeffries stroking her hair.
What the goddamn hell was going on?
Once she’d handed him control, he drew her closer by two steps and covered the top of her hand with his palm. Heat built until she wondered if her hand would melt. Staring at their joined hands, she felt her breathing become labored.
“I believe in this instance, the pleasure is all mine.”
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Could barely react. Up close in the waning light of sunset, she was transfixed by the sheer perfection of his face.
He was older than her but not by much. Maybe late thirties. He had a structured hairstyle with a distinctive square face and a strong jaw that gave him a masculine and very authoritative look.
Eyes the color of blue midnight returned her stare. She sensed he would find it less than difficult to read her most secret thoughts.
Uh oh.
Laugh lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes when he smiled slightly while squeezing her hand. The realization that he could so effortlessly see inside her shook Emily up.
Slowly releasing her hand, he stepped back and chuckled. “Are you always this tongue-tied? I’m really starting to think it’s me.”
Nothing like being called out for behaving like a twit. She swiped her tongue at both corners of her lips just to be sure she wasn’t actually drooling.
If she didn’t say something intelligent soon, he was going to think her daft. “Hi,” she croaked. Barley managing to suppress an eye roll at how stupid she sounded, she took two steps away from the railing into what she perceived was a safe zone on her side of the porch.
His knowing smirk did nothing to calm her rattled composure.
Maybe she should try to wrestle back a bit of control over this odd situation. Pushing hair behind one of her ears, she smashed her lips together, cleared her throat and took a stab starting with making it clear that a handsome face wasn’t enough to let him off the hook.
“You’re Eileen Jeffries’ son?”
“Indeed I am,” he chuckled. “Sylvia has gone to stay with my mom for a bit. She’s had a bit of surgery and needs help right now.”
“Help a son couldn’t provide?”
Her clumsy contrived attempt at a third degree didn’t go unnoticed.
Shoving a hand into the pocket of his immaculately tailored slacks, he leaned against the stone column and shook his head in mock-disbelief.
“You’re not very trusting are you?”
Yeah, whatever. She stared right back at him.
He shrugged. “Female surgery, Miss Sinclair. Something a sister would navigate better than a whole room full of clueless males.”
Who was he kidding? “You do not strike me as clueless, Mr. Jeffries.”
Why the hell were they speaking so formally? It was rattling her cage in a big way. Everything about this guy screamed different.
“And you, Miss Sinclair, strike me as someone who wants to know where the boundaries are. In everything,” he added in a silky growl.
Her neck bloomed goosebumps that spread across her shoulders. His voice sent chills racing through her.
“Some would say situational awareness is better than boundaries.” What was she doing? Verbally sparring with this man did not strike her as a smart idea. She didn’t doubt for a second that he’d win every round. For someone who saw control as a virtue, the thought was a disturbing one.
Excerpt from Forbidden (Sinful Shares 3)
Excerpt from Sinful Shares Book 3
Forbidden © Suzanne Halliday
Robert Peyton remembere
d the first time he saw Kristal Devin like it was yesterday instead of twenty years ago.
They met at a McDonald’s—a big, sprawling one with an outdoor playground. She was five and he was ten. Her mother, Mara, was newly engaged to his dad, Jeremy. He thought his father’s lady friend was pretty and nice—but her daughter?
A total brat.
At that first meeting they glared at each other with mutual dislike. He’d dug in at his father’s side and tried ignoring the brat but she was a fearless little thing and wouldn’t leave him alone.
“Why do you wear glasses?”
Back then, at just ten years old, he hated the question. Wearing glasses set him apart from the other kids.
It was bad enough that he felt separate from the happy families all around him—his home life had been nothing short of a Wild West show for all of his remembered childhood. Until his mother left. Then he and his Dad became objects of pity. Moms didn’t leave but his did.
The fugly black rimmed glasses only made things worse so when the inquisitive five year old asked and wouldn’t let it go he was forced to answer.
They were on the stupid playground. He was ten—not five so being banished to a fenced in play yard was like liver and onions for dinner. Plus, his dad made a point of telling him to ‘watch out for Kristal’. A ten-year-old boy’s worst nightmare.
What was a self-respecting pre-teen to do but he act like a dick and be all kinds of rude.
“Why? So I can see your underwear.”
He thought the answer was funny and crude—in a ten year olds way. As a matter of fact, he saw in hindsight how hilariously full of his bad self he imagined he was. Right up until the fearless little girl hauled off and kicked him in the shins so hard he went down. Straight on his ass—with an awkward thud.
“Hey,” he yelped. “What’d you do that for?”
The look her five-year-old self flashed at him? It was the same one she had today. The one that said, ‘Seriously?’
Then she gave a head toss that sent her stupid braids flying over her shoulders, stuck her tongue out, and stomped away.
He’d scrambled after her, sure that he was in for an ass-chewing from his dad. But she didn’t rat him out. Mostly, she made faces at him every time their parents were distracted.
Robert wasn’t sure but if a bet were on the line he’d go with giving that encounter up as the moment when he fell head-over-heels in love with Kristal Devin.
Six months later she became his step-sister.
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling Author Suzanne Halliday writes what she knows and what she loves – sexy contemporary romance featuring strong men and spirited women. Her love of creating short stories for friends and family developed into a passion for writing romantic fiction with a sensual edge. She finds the world of digital, self-publishing to be the perfect platform for sharing her stories and also for what she enjoys most of all – reading. When she’s not on a deadline you’ll find her loading up on books to devour.
No longer wandering because the desert southwest finally claimed her, these days instead of digging out from a snowstorm you can still find Suzanne with 80’s hair band music playing in the background, kids running in and out, laptop on with way too many screens open, something awesome in the oven, and a mug of hot tea clutched in one hand.
Suzanne is the proud mother of USA Today Bestselling Author Ella Fox.
Also by Suzanne Halliday
JUSTICE BROTHERS SERIES
Broken Justice
Fixing Justice
Redeeming Justice
Original Justice (novella)
FAMILY JUSTICE SERIES
Always
Desert Angel
Sanctuary
Unchained
Unforgettable
Everlasting
Unstoppable
Dear Bella (novella)
Honeymoon Angel (novella)
WILDE WOMEN SERIES
Wilde Forever
Wilde Heart
Wilde Magic
JUSTICE ~ WILDE CROSSOVER
Bishop’s Pawn
Checkmate (novella)
AFFAIR SERIES
The Gideon Affair
The Wedding Affair
STAND ALONE TITLES
Cupid in Heels
Sinful Shares Novellas
Control