Bestselling Authors Collection 2012

by Trish Morey; Day Leclaire; Natalie Anderson; Brenda Jackson; Ann Voss Peterson

  But he couldn’t stay away, not all day. He told himself he couldn’t be rude and ignore her after what had happened. Somehow he had to get them back to a purely professional footing. Going to be tricky given he was the one who’d been flashing skin the whole time.

  She was at the desk, her head bent as she concentrated on the stuff in front of her—piles of tiny objects. She had a bag open on the edge of the desk, small sharp-looking tools to one side while she made her decisions. It was the first time he’d seen her actually sitting still and not busily typing while filing and talking to someone on the phone all at the same time. Now she was so concentrated, so quiet, looking so intently at the stuff on the table in front of her. He leaned his shoulder against the door jamb and said nothing. Just waited for her to realise he was there, enjoying the time he had to observe.

  It was several minutes until she glanced up, did a double take and squeaked.

  ‘Oh, sorry.’ The tempting colour rose under her skin. ‘I didn’t hear you.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ He’d figured it out already but didn’t want to admit just how long he’d been standing watching her like some stalker.

  Her hands moved, as if to hide it from him, her serenity broken as she started packing it all away. A velvet covered board with grooves in it into which she was arranging small semi-precious stones or beads or other bits.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said, wishing he hadn’t shattered her moment of calm so completely. It was as if he’d tripped the switch and now the efficient automaton was back. ‘You’re allowed a lunch break.’ Except lunch had been hours ago. Had the goody two-shoes abandoned her job all afternoon?

  She looked guilty.

  Yep, he’d caught her out. He couldn’t stop his mile wide smile. ‘What are you making?’

  She blinked at him, hurriedly looked away. ‘A necklace.’

  ‘A hobby of yours?’ He saw her tension spike.

  Then she nodded. All back to brisk. ‘Yes.’

  He watched as the guilt gave her an all-over-body sweep of red.

  ‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I lost track of time.’

  She was just never going to be a cheat, was she? Never going to be someone who could do something she shouldn’t and not own up about it. He bet she’d never done anything remotely dodgy in her whole life. Jeez, they were poles apart.

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’ He didn’t care. She’d done an amazing job clearing up the mess that was the Whistle Fund office. Everything was running on schedule again. Even the opening of the bar looked as if it was going to go off okay. The chaos of the last couple of weeks seemed to be at an end. In no small part thanks to Sophy. She was allowed an afternoon to slack off. ‘Just go home early. You’ve done heaps already.’

  She lifted her head, the cool look back. ‘Okay. Thanks.’

  He lingered for a half second too long, tempted to say or do something more. Finally he made himself turn and walk along to his own office. It had just been a kiss. Nothing more than that. He could forget it. He could ignore the tantalising prospect of seducing her. Sure he could.

  At least try to do the right thing, Lorenzo—for once in your life.

  Sophy hadn’t had any sleep. She’d sat up late again, working on her pieces. Unhappy with the necklace she’d made the night before. Her jewellery had to be something really special—couldn’t be something anyone could make in their own home if they had the time and the inclination. It was all about the eye, the detail and the little spark of difference. She had the resources—had been collecting vintage bits and bobs for years. Had gathered a lot while in Europe and had got invaluable experience when she’d worked on the floor of a jewellery shop in France. She’d spent her lunch breaks sitting in the workshop with the jewellers learning some of the finer points. She’d done a few courses too, so she had a reasonably solid technique now. But she didn’t have so much time to make the amount she needed for the show. And she wasn’t sure she had them exactly how she wanted them.

  But on top of everything she was distracted. Wished Rosanna were on hand to help her out—with Vamp 101 classes.

  She didn’t see Lorenzo all morning. But early afternoon, as the sun was hitting its zenith, she heard that familiar sound. She looked out of the open window. He was on his makeshift basketball court, wearing jeans of course. But his torso was covered this time—with a loose NBA style singlet.

  He glanced up to the window, saw she was watching. She pulled her head back in but she saw his grin. He bounced the ball a few times. Executed some fancy run up to the board and jumped high—landing the shot.

  He glanced back up to her. Yeah, okay, she was still watching and he knew it. Too slowly he lifted the hem of his singlet, used it to wipe the sweat from his brow—revealing his abs in the process. Deliberately. Provocatively.

  He lifted his head and looked up at her. He wanted a reaction? Impossible—she couldn’t move, just stared at him.

  His smile appeared and both his hands moved to the hem of his singlet. In a flash he’d whipped it over his head—tossing it to the side.

  Oh God, she just couldn’t take it any more. She slammed her window shut. Heard his laugh anyway. That tore it. She stood and marched downstairs, opened the back door, let it slam behind her. He turned, she saw his surprise. So he was just winding her up? He’d pay.

  She walked past him and went to where the ball was rolling towards the fence, scooped it up. It was bigger than the netball she used to play with. She prayed to the sporting gods for some kind of benevolence. It had been years since she last played netball, but she had been Goal Attack—responsible for shooting through the hoops. She rolled the ball against her palms, pulling it in tight to her chest, getting the feel for it. She was too steamed to care much anyway. Really she felt like throwing the thing at his head rather than the hoop.

  She turned. He was too close behind her. She gave him a pointed look and he took a step to the side. Neither said anything. She looked up at the basket. So damn high. Still, she had energy in her muscles that needed to be expended.

  She aimed and threw. The net swished as the ball slid through. Confidence from her success swamped her and she turned to stare hotly at him.

  ‘Been keeping secrets?’ His voice was low. ‘You want to play with me, Sophy?’

  ‘I want to beat you.’

  His whole body tensed. She saw the electricity surge in him.

  ‘No one beats me.’

  ‘Not afraid, are you, Lorenzo?’

  The briefest pause and then that smile curled. ‘What are we playing for?’ He quietly walked closer.

  Yeah, she’d hoped she could bring out his wicked side. She just hadn’t realised quite how easy it would be. ‘What do you want to play for?’

  Was this her? Leaning provocatively close to him, practically purring?

  His amusement deepened but it didn’t bother her, for she saw the fire too. ‘You’re the one suggesting the game; you come up with the prize.’

  She just stared at him, letting her eyes say it all.

  ‘Really?’ He dropped the basketball. It rolled away, coming to a rest against the newly painted fence.

  ‘Don’t you think?’

  He’d gone very still. ‘I’m not sure either of us is thinking.’

  ‘Isn’t it going to happen anyway? Hasn’t it been on the cards for days?’ She angled her head and studied him, half dying inside now with her boldness. He was so silent. Too silent. ‘Do you really want to stop it?’

  His hands were on his hips, his biceps flexing. ‘We probably should.’

  ‘Why?’ She could see his chest rising and falling faster than before. She knew he felt it too.

  Angry fingers suddenly gripped her upper arms. ‘Why are you chasing this?’

  She flinched. Chasing? Like some infatuated teen stalking her first prey? Shocked, she blurted the truth. ‘I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had a fling. Never had a one night stand. I’ve always been “good”, always watched out for m
y reputation, always gone out with “safe” guys.’ She’d had a couple of steady boyfriends, then that engagement. She shut her mind to the memory, turned back to the heat of the moment. ‘Just for once I want the freedom to do what I want to do, take what I want, have what I want.’

  ‘And I’m what you want?’ His jaw was rigid, the strength in his fingers not easing an iota.

  She glanced down his body. ‘You’re very fit.’

  ‘What is it that’s really turning you on? Going with someone outside your select social circle? Someone from the wrong side of the tracks, someone rougher? Is that what I am to you?’

  Her senses flared at the word rougher. She could do with some rough right now. ‘I don’t care about your background.’ She didn’t actually care about him—did she? ‘Like I said, you’re just very fit.’ She sighed, frustrated. ‘And every time I see you, you’re half naked. What do you expect? I’m only human.’

  A short laugh was shaken from him. ‘So you just want physical, Sophy?’

  ‘Really physical.’

  The breath whistled out between his teeth. She held her breath, frozen as she watched him decide.

  ‘I don’t do relationships, Sophy.’

  ‘You think I don’t know that?’

  His fingers relaxed but didn’t let her go and his smile returned. ‘This is not going to get out of hand.’

  She stepped closer, anticipation twisting with satisfaction and spiralling higher. She’d won. For once she’d been bold and it had worked. ‘Of course not. You’re going to be very much in hand.’ She smiled. Really, dirty flirty talk was easy. She could so be the queen of it here.

  ‘I think you’re confused about who’s going to be dominant.’ His hands tightened again, drawing her closer still. ‘I’ll be in control, Sophy—you don’t want to be.’

  That was exactly it. She didn’t want to be in control any more. She just wanted to feel. Not think. Just experience it, release the tension from her system. ‘Okay.’

  His expression flared. His hands moved, looping round her back, imprisoning her. ‘So what did you have in mind?’

  ‘What about my office?’

  ‘Now?’ He laughed freely. ‘A late afternoon lay? Just before you leave?’

  ‘It has a certain appeal.’ Her eyelids were heavy, her cheeks flushed. She’d wanted him for days, of course she wanted him now.

  ‘Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?’ His voice dropped to a carnal whisper, but his eyes were like polished stones. ‘We’ve barely kissed. We might not be that good.’

  Barely kissed? Oh, he was full of it. Her lips curved into a lush, lazy smile. ‘You don’t believe that. Besides…’ she skated the tips of her fingers over his jaw, shivering with the pleasure of being able to touch ‘.you do everything to a brilliant standard.’

  ‘So do you.’

  Not quite true, but she was happy to skip it. ‘Then we’ll be brilliant together, won’t we?’ She was wholly leaning against him now, feeling the heat of him through her linen shirt. ‘Let’s try it out.’

  ‘Oh, Sophy,’ he muttered, his face even more angular. ‘You’d better know what you’re doing.’

  In answer she lifted her face, inviting it all.

  In a fast movement he caught her mouth with his. It wasn’t anything like the gentle kiss of the day before. This was brazenly sexual—branding her with its heat. She gasped, held back for a scrap of a second beneath the bruising, blazing invasion. Then threw herself headlong into the eye of the storm, locking her hands behind his neck, letting her breasts press against him. His hands pushed her tighter against his hardness. And he was hard all over.

  His heated skin melted her. His tongue swept between her lips, she parted to let him in as deep as he wanted. Twirled her tongue around his and felt his grip tighten even harder on her.

  Yes.

  Her neck muscles strained as she pushed up into his kiss, not wanting the searing assault to ease even a smidge. She rocked her hips. Rising onto tiptoe to feel that bulging ridge nearer to where she really wanted it, rubbed closer again, desperate to relieve the agony that now flared deep within. She felt rather than heard his grunt. His hand cupped her butt, fingers firm on her flesh, holding her as he rocked back against her—his thrusting slow, devastating, while his mouth was still sealed to hers. His tongue teased into her the way she really wanted that other part of him to. Her moan reverberated between them then. Oh, yes. That was what she wanted. All the strength of him ripping into her.

  His kiss altered, breaking but quickly returning. Nipping at her mouth he pushed her harder against his straining erection. She shifted her feet to part her legs that fraction more, rotating the half centimetre she could against him, torturing them both. She cursed the clothes that were scrunching between them. He bent her back to force her body closer still, until all she could do was cling to his shoulders and accept his demands. She didn’t want to stand any more anyway. She wanted to lie down. She wanted him to pin her with his weight and pound into her. Fast, hard, now.

  All her desire unleashed with just the one kiss.

  He took the weight of one breast in his hand and her body buckled with the sensation. ‘Yes.’ Her high cry, half whispered.

  So there was such a thing as pure, carnal lust. An attraction to a body, where nothing else mattered but touching it, feeling it and making its beauty come alive. There could be a free, physical joy. She’d been missing out for years—had always taken everything too seriously, been too cautious. She swept her hand hard across his shoulder, up his neck and into his hair, clutching to his deliciously dangerous heat. It was time to play catch-up.

  Lorenzo fought hard with his raging lust, and hers, easing them out of the kiss, forcing his hands to slow and then to stop their exploration of her skin. It hurt.

  He lifted his mouth a millimetre away from hers. Saw that passion had made her blue eyes glow more vividly than ever before. He couldn’t resist another brushing kiss, nor could he resist the way her nipple was pressing into his palm. His fingers mirrored the action of his mouth—brushing the sensitive nub just as his lips did hers.

  Very, very lightly.

  Her shudder nearly had him on his knees. He’d wanted to test her—to see if she really meant it. So he’d kissed her hard. No gentle beginning, no tenderness, just the brunt of his raw, blistering passion.

  And she’d met him, matched him. Almost beaten him.

  Now he wanted to strip her, to kiss her, to make the whole of her wet with want. He wanted her drenched with desire—and him too—for their bodies to slide together, fighting for that furious, physical release. He hadn’t wanted sex so badly in ages.

  Instead he pushed away, made himself take a whole step. Forced his feet to move another. ‘I’m not going to take you now,’ he said breathlessly. Telling himself as much as her. ‘Not like this.’

  ‘Why not?’ She didn’t seem to realise the extent to which she was giving herself away.

  His body tightened, the animal part of him so keen to take up her unguarded offer. To topple her here and now and be done with it. But he couldn’t. She needed some breathing space to be sure. He needed her to be sure. The lust was hot enough to make them both brainless. Do something she yet might regret. Lorenzo couldn’t bear those regrets—not his, not hers either.

  Stupid. Since when did he care? Since when did he let any kind of second thoughts stop him from having a good time?

  Because she’d told him—she didn’t usually do this. He’d known that already but having her actually say it made it worse. She needed to be certain. He didn’t want any uncomfortable ramifications. ‘Are you sure you can handle it?’

  She turned away. He saw the chill descend, the stiffening in her shoulders. ‘Don’t treat me like an idiot. Of course I can. We’re only talking one night, Lorenzo.’

  He ruffled his hair, needing to get his conflicting emotions under control. Hell, it was one p.m. and he was this close to having her in a quickie session at the back of the wa
rehouse. He wanted more than a quickie. He wanted a bed. He wanted the whole night.

  One night—her suggestion.

  His body chafed—eager to take the offer up now. But no way was he taking her upstairs to his apartment. Inviting her in there might lead to mixed messages. He’d have to take her out. Damn, a date meant more too—or might to her. He shook his head, could she really keep it uncomplicated? But he wanted it too much to say no. The burning need forced him to take the risk. ‘I’ll take you out tonight.’

  ‘That’s not necessary.’

  Oh, she was cool, wasn’t she? His edgy feeling sharpened. Had he underestimated her entirely? ‘You don’t want to go out?’

  She looked evasive. ‘You could come over to my place.’

  It was probably a good idea. He didn’t like that it had come from her, but she was right. Better not for them to go out together—looking like lovers, feeling like lovers. But ironically nor did he want some sordid assignation. Just for him to knock on the door and her let him in—literally. The warring feelings frustrated him. ‘For dinner?’

  ‘If you like,’ she answered carelessly, giving him an address, a time.

  He stared at her as she spoke, tried to figure out what the hell she was thinking. Failed. But she’d come to him. She was asking him. If she wanted to go through with it, who was he to say no? He’d never been one to turn down an opportunity. ‘Okay.’

  She smiled, and walked back inside.

  He glanced up to the window and waited. Soon saw her swinging into her role as the perfect administrator again. It should please him, not annoy him—given she was on the payroll and all. But for some reason he found it incredibly irritating. She could go back and concentrate on boring work just like that?

  Man, he wanted to see her out of control. He wanted the perfect clothes crushed and the never-out-of-place hair messy. He wanted her eyes wide and wild and her mouth parted as she panted. He wanted her both laughing and crying with pleasure so intense that she was no longer in charge of anything. He wanted her to writhe for him.