by Lily Everett
Serena cut off the flow of her impassioned speech like turning off a tap, vibrant color flooding her cheeks.
“Go on,” Leo encouraged, leaning over the desk and focusing intently on her. The way Serena lit up when talking about her library was entirely beguiling. She was nothing like the women of his set—neither the proper society ladies he’d left behind in London, nor the hard-partying models and actresses he’d casually dated in New York.
Serena Lightfoot cared, passionately, and she wasn’t afraid to show it. He had to admire the inner core of strength inside a person who hadn’t allowed life, with all its troubles and woes, to train her out of exposing her feelings.
“No.” Her voice was subdued, her whole manner a shadow of the exuberant vitality she’d displayed moments ago. “I don’t mean to go on and on. It’s just that public funding for libraries is at an all-time low, and I’m primed for any chance to climb up on my soapbox to convince people that they need to support us.”
Leo’s mind sharpened, honing in on the solution. Simple, elegant, easy—he couldn’t believe he hadn’t picked up on it when Serena perked up at the mere mention of the wealthy Harrington family. He was usually more perceptive than that—but then, he wasn’t usually faced with a woman as thoroughly distracting as Serena Lightfoot.
“You’re quite eloquent in your arguments,” he said slowly, shrugging out his coat and draping it over the research desk.
“What are you doing?” Serena gazed down at his discarded coat in alarm. “You’re not staying. I didn’t agree to help you shirk your responsibility to your friend!”
The grain of truth in that assessment stung, but Leo pressed on. There was no help for it. As much as he might wish to be the sort of man who could cull through hundreds of poems to find the very best one to suit the nuptials of one of his closest friends, it wasn’t to be.
Pulling out his very best seductive, sideways glance, Leo dropped his voice to a purr. “Oh, I think we can help one another.”
Serena’s eyes narrowed. “How?”
“You help me choose a poem to read at Miles Harrington’s wedding, and I’ll guarantee you a donation for the library.”
She swallowed audibly, her attention caught and held by his proposition. “How…how much are we talking?”
Leo shrugged. “Enough to cover the library’s expenses for the next fiscal year.”
“Do you have any idea how much money that is?” Serena pushed back from the desk so she could leap to her feet and pace. “It’s a huge amount. I couldn’t take that full amount from a single donor; there are rules, regulations, our tax status.…”
She was trying to talk herself out of this deal. Leo set his jaw as determination flooded him. “The money means nothing to me,” Leo said impatiently. “Come along, surely you realize we can work out the details.”
Serena paused, her arms wrapped around her midsection, and stared at him in bewilderment. “Why is this so important to you? I can’t be the only person on earth who could help you figure out what love poem to read.”
Set back on his heels, Leo considered the question. She was perfectly correct. He had friends he could ask for help, he had a valet and a personal assistant whose job it was to help him with whatever he required—and, indeed, they’d been his first strategy until he’d walked past the library and decided to try there on a whim.
But now that he’d met Serena? He wanted her, and no one else.
“Perhaps.” Leo shrugged, enjoying the way her eyes darkened as her gaze swept over his chest. “But perhaps the wedding reading is only part of my goal now.”
Her brow furrowed, the space between those dark slashes of eyebrows crinkling adorably. “What’s the rest of it?”
Leo grinned at the suspicion in her voice. He sauntered around the desk, carefully so as not to startle her with sudden movements, but she stood her ground. Even when she had to tilt her head back to be able to meet his eyes, she didn’t retreat.
Lifting one hand to the side of her fair, smooth neck, Leo touched a tender fingertip to the throb of her pulse in the hollow of her throat. Her breath fluttered out, hitching appealingly, and Leo went hard in an aching rush that left him light-headed.
“If I have to find a love poem,” he murmured, “I want you to be the one who reads them to me. I’m sure I could find, hire, or coerce someone else into doing this—but I want to spend more time with you, Serena Lightfoot. That’s why this matters so much to me.”
She opened her mouth— to object or argue some more, Leo didn’t know. He didn’t wait to find out, either. Instead, he bent his head and closed the distance between them, covering her delectable mouth in a soft, nuzzling exploration of a kiss.
***
Fireworks burst through the darkness of Serena’s closed eyelids. Her eyes had snapped shut instinctively the instant Leo Strathairn’s lips touched hers, and for a long, breathless moment, she couldn’t process anything but the heat of him, the fresh, spicy taste of his kiss, the lean strength of his body braced above her.
The kiss started soft, but from one heartbeat to the next, hunger roared over them both and turned the kiss greedy and desperate. Serena’s senses whirled dizzily, every ounce of her focused on the man she clutched in her arms, until the sudden shift of the rolling chair’s wheels jerked her from her sensual daze.
Gasping for air, Serena dropped her hands from Leo’s shoulders to push at his chest. It was like pushing at a granite wall. He resisted for a heartbeat, fire blazing in the depths of his molten silver eyes, but then he blinked and stepped back smoothly.
“My apologies.” He ran a hand through his hair, disordering the already wildly tousled waves of auburn. “That was more…intense than I’d imagined.”
Serena, whose lips were still tingling, cleared her throat. “Intense. That’s a word for it.”
He still loomed over her, his wide shoulders blotting out the fluorescent lights. She’d had her hands on that chest, Serena remembered dazedly. She’d felt the hard slabs of muscle, barely hinted at by his buttoned-up attire, and her active imagination easily provided a picture of what those glorious sculpted planes would look like naked. Serena swayed toward him for an instant before she caught herself.
Humor tugged at Leo’s handsome mouth. “Does that answer your question about why I’m working so hard to secure your assistance?”
Not exactly, since Serena wasn’t a stranger to the kind of arrangement where a man thought he could use her feelings to get what he wanted out of her. But as she gazed up at Leo’s ruffled curls and the mischief twinkling in his eyes, Serena knew she was going to give in anyway.
She’d just have to make darned sure all she gave up was her time and her help with his task—and that if she gave Leo anything else, it was something she could afford to lose.
“All right.” Decisive as always when she’d made up her mind, Serena checked the clock high on the wall and cursed inwardly. “I’m in, but I have a few conditions. Number one, I need more than just one mammoth donation—I need community support, and since you don’t have any connection to this island, you can’t give me that. But you can help me get what I need.”
Interest kindled in his expression. “How so?”
Deep breath in. “Your friends, the Harringtons. They have island connections, own property here, and their support for the library would mean a lot to the people of the town. So, in return for helping you with your poetry needs, I’d like an invitation to the wedding and a chance to convince the Harringtons to sponsor the library.”
“Why bother?” Leo arched a brow questioningly. “Not that I’m refusing, mind you—I’d be honored to have you as my date to the wedding. But I already told you I’d give you the money the library needs.”
Serena lifted her chin. “That’s my other condition. If you’re going to give me money, there can’t be any more kissing. I’m not comfortable with what it would say about me if I got involved with you personally in return for a donation.”
Dism
ay clouded Leo’s bright eyes, and he went all stiff and British again. “I certainly never intended to imply anything of the sort.”
“I know that,” Serena said, although the fact that he said it, and seemed to mean it, made her insides feel fluttery and warm. “And that’s only part of it, anyway—”
She brought herself up short, appalled at what she’d been about to tell him.
Leo frowned. “What’s the other part?”
“Um, nothing,” Serena hedged, sidling around him and out from behind the reference desk to start getting ready to open the library. “I just meant to say, I’ll spend time with you, if that’s what you really want—but I’m not promising to sleep with you. So if any part of your proposition was based on that, we might as well get that out in the open up front.”
A funny look came over Leo’s face as he watched her bustle around setting up a circle of child-sized plastic chairs. Serena kept an eye on him as she worked, trying hard not to hold her breath for his response. She couldn’t make any guesses based on his expression, which seemed to slide from stunned to stimulated.
“I’m not looking for a guaranteed bed partner,” he finally said, all but purring the words in a sleek, low voice that sent shivers to raise the hairs on the back of Serena’s neck. “If you’ll agree to spend time with me, that’s all I ask. That—and the opportunity to change your mind.”
Serena gulped in a choked breath as Leo rounded the corner of the desk, scooping up his coat and umbrella as he passed, and strolled toward her. “Change my mind?” she squeaked.
Desire flared molten hot in Leo’s smoldering gaze, and Serena tried to steel herself to withstand another of those drugging kisses, but all he did was reach out and tuck one of her longer curls behind her ear. His fingertips skimmed the shell of her ear, lighting the sensitive nerve endings on fire.
Serena only realized she’d closed her eyes when his dark, delicious voice startled her into snapping them open.
“I’ll give you access to the Harrington family and the other wealthy wedding attendees, and in return, you’ll help me with my ceremonial reading…and you’ll give me the chance to seduce you.” He smiled down at her. “Do we have a deal?”
For the first time in her life, Serena thought she could sympathize with Dr. Faustus, making his foolish deal with the devil. When the devil was this appealing, what mere mortal could resist him?
Telling herself she could keep her end of the bargain without giving up more than she could afford to lose, Serena opened her mouth and sealed her fate.
“We have a deal.”
Chapter 3
Leo climbed out of his classic 1937 Jaguar convertible wondering if he’d found the right place. Miles’s fiancée, Greta Hackley, had looked a little surprised when he’d dropped by her hardware store to ask how to get to Honeysuckle Ridge, but the directions she’d provided had seemed straightforward.
Now, as Leo pocketed his keys and stared out over the expanse of sunlit hilltop, all he saw was a lookout point covered in tall grass that waved in the cold, steady breeze off the ocean. Loud honking overhead tugged his attention skyward just as a flock of snow geese flew by. From where he stood, he could see most of Sanctuary Island laid out at his feet. The salt marshes and small lakes spread up to the north, bordered by shell beaches and protected coves.
Standing there alone at the top of the island, Leo had a brief, disorienting sense of being the only human being in the world.
Certainly, Serena Lightfoot was nowhere in sight. Leo grimaced and jingled his keys in his pocket as he debated retracing his path down the winding gravel road to the inhabited heart of the island. He thought he’d followed Greta’s directions, but he had to admit he’d spent part of the drive distracted, mulling over Miles’s parting shot back at the hardware store.
As Leo had pulled away from the curb, his friend had come to the door to see him off. “Heading out to meet a beautiful, single woman at one of the most scenic spots on the island? I have a feeling I know which of you boys is going to lose the bet first. You’ll be in love before nightfall. She’s a lucky girl.”
Miles hadn’t quite hidden his smirk behind the coffee mug he’d raised to his lips, and Leo knew he was only joking. The knowledge that Miles wasn’t purposely trying to mock him gave Leo the ability to smirk back and say, “Isn’t there a quaint American colloquialism about counting chickens?”
Laughing, Miles had waved him off and gone back inside to watch his fiancée work. And Leo drove away thinking about exactly how he knew he’d be winning this bet. After all, no matter what happened with Serena Lightfoot, no matter how much her mixture of intelligence, sensuality, and ambition called to him—their connection could never be more than skin deep.
There was no chance of developing a real relationship with someone who could never know the deepest truth about him.
He didn’t want to contemplate just why the knowledge of his imminent win filled him with nothing more than grim resignation. It wasn’t as if he’d ever wanted more than a few nights of passion with a woman before. At least he’d have easy access to the Billionaire Club and a lovely custom helicopter to console him when this affair was ended.
Leo sighed and plucked his cell phone from his inner jacket pocket. But just as he was about to take his chances with the cell signal gods and try to GPS his way to the actual place where Serena had asked to meet him, he heard the crunch of footsteps behind him.
“You made it!” Serena beamed at him, a little out of breath but stunningly gorgeous in cargo pants, hiking boots, and a tight, fleecy long-sleeved shirt with a short zipper that exposed the delicate wings of her collar bones. Wisps of hair curled free of her messy braid and her skin glowed from the exertion of hiking up the hill.
Leo raised his brows. “If you needed a ride, I could have swung by the library to pick you up.”
Laughing, Serena shrugged off the straps of a full, heavy-looking backpack. “We have to take advantage of these unseasonably warm winter days, and plus, I needed the exercise. Reading to kids and reshelving books all day doesn’t burn as many calories as you might think.”
Leo’s gaze traveled down the length of her slim legs, heat that had nothing to do with the sun simmering under his skin. “You look to be in quite good shape, from what I can see.”
He wished he could tell if the rosy flush in Serena’s cheeks was the result of her hike up the hill or the sensation of his eyes on her body. “Thanks,” she said, ducking her head a little. The sweep of her dark lashes against the pink of her cheeks made her look like a china doll—but there was nothing delicate or fragile about the frank female interest sparkling in her eyes when she glanced up at him.
Brimming with optimism for his seduction’s prospects, Leo gave her a slow, suggestive smile. “Not that I don’t appreciate the view, but may I ask why we’re meeting up here rather than in your library?”
“You said you’re not a library person,” Serena reminded him, setting her bulging backpack on the grass and kneeling to unroll a blanket that had been tied below the straps. “I thought maybe you’d appreciate the chance to spend a little time out and about in this ‘golden jewel box of an island,’ as you put it.”
Leo gazed out across the salt marshes and maritime pines dappling Sanctuary Island. Salt-laden air caressed his cheeks, and the dazzling sunlight struck blinding flashes off the undulating waves. “This golden jewel box of an island,” he murmured, thinking about the cold, drizzly, gray skies and green pastures of the island of his birth.
“Yeah.” Serena spread the blanket over the grass and anchored down one corner with the backpack. “That phrase stuck in my head for some reason, so I tried looking it up. I thought it must be a line from poetry, but I couldn’t find it anywhere.”
Caught in the chilly memories of the home he’d left behind, Leo shrugged and thrust his hands into his pockets. “Not that I know of.”
Serena hummed thoughtfully, pulling Leo’s attention back from the hazy smudge of the ma
inland in the distance. She’d plopped down on one side of the blanket, legs stuck straight out like a little girl’s, the backpack cradled between her spread thighs.
Lucky backpack. Noticing the way Serena’s slim hands caressed the worn canvas, Leo felt a distinct tightness in his perfectly tailored trousers. But her next words cooled his ardor considerably.
“So it’s just something you came up with. Which means, basically—you’re a poet.”
The words were a slap to the face. Rousing from his reverie on Serena’s hands, Leo snapped, “Certainly not. Trust me when I tell you, I’m no poet.”
“Hmm. If you say so.” Serena unzipped the backpack and pulled a stack of books out of it, leaning to deposit one or two at each corner of the blanket to weigh it down against the lively breeze off the water.
Before Leo could insist that he did say so, Serena went on. “I’ve got some good romantic poetry here, but I tried to include a variety of different kinds of books. Wedding readings don’t have to be goopy, sappy, and trite, you know.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Leo said awkwardly, still a little off balance. The very idea of himself as a poet, someone who spun images into words.… His gut clenched and he stared sightlessly at Serena’s selection of books of varying lengths and sizes, bound in every color of the rainbow.
She eyed him, concern shadowing her dark gaze, and Leo carefully arranged his expression to show nothing but bland amusement.
“Great. Have a seat.” Serena nodded at the empty spot on the other side of the blanket, a safe distance away from the temptation of her curvy little body. Leo assessed the situation with a tactical eye and chose, instead, to throw himself down directly beside her. He needed the distraction.
And besides, Leo had no interest in avoiding temptation. He intended to indulge. And if that involved tempting Serena, so much the better. Especially if it allowed him to direct the flow of events here so that the only one doing any reading was her.
