Star Quality

by Lori Foster, Lucy Monroe

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “How do you feel about me? Do you love me? Or is that part of the moon influence, too?”

  She looked him in the eyes, hers sad and confused. He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and reassure her. But that wasn’t the thing to do right now. She had to see they were right for each other on her own or she’d always wonder if he’d pushed her into the decision.

  Twilight canopied the garden, now in shades of gray and black, the moon inching its way across the sky. The hot steamy night swirled around them, reflecting how he felt for her.

  She let out a deep sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside and said, “Yes, I love you. I think I have since you arrived here. You were compassionate and caring and thought Frank was a jerk for cheating on me. You’re a great guy, and that’s probably why I made the wish to have great sex with you in the first place.”

  She kissed him, her lips mating with his. “I’m glad it happened, if only for a little while.”

  He took her in his arms, no longer able to resist the urge to hold her. “This isn’t a little-while relationship, Julia. I’ve had those, and what I feel for you is way beyond that.”

  He lay back in the chair, taking her with him, cuddling her close in the moonlight. “There’s only one way to settle this. We’ll spend the night here under the moon that’s caused all these problems. Together we’ll wait for midnight.”

  She gazed up at him, so handsome, so sure he was right while she knew at midnight he’d leave. But he was here with her now, and she loved him more than she thought she could love anyone. “Make love to me, Marc. One last time.”

  She sat up and pulled off her blouse and bra. “I know this isn’t a good idea because I’ll miss you all the more, but I want to see you naked in the moonlight. When I come up here I want to remember you with me.”

  “You’ll remember me because I’ll be right next to you always.” He sat up beside her and stroked one breast, the heat from his hand intoxicating. He cupped her other breast, held it tenderly and kissed it, his lips on her skin making her dizzy with wanting him.

  He stood and slid off his pants, his male physique taking her breath away, his aroused condition fueling her own passions. She unsnapped her shorts.

  “Let me do the rest. I want to see you one inch at a time, like unwrapping a wonderful package.”

  He laid Julia back and bent over her. Her insides quivered as he eased off her shorts, leaving her thin pink panties as her only covering. He spread her legs and lay between them, making her blood rush in anticipation for what was next. Then he kissed her mound through the thin silk barrier, the pressure of his lips, the wetness of his mouth, taking her over the edge. She gasped as an orgasm shook her. “I want you in me, now.”

  She heard a rip and felt the silk barrier that separated her from the man she loved give way. Then he was in her, filling her completely with himself and making love to her one last time before he left her forever.

  “I love you,” Marc whispered as he climaxed, taking her with him. Then he held her close under the moonlight, the sweltering night mingling with the heat of their lovemaking.

  “I love you, too, Marc.” She kissed him, then let herself fall asleep in his arms, knowing when she woke, he’d be gone.

  And as early morning sunlight flooded the garden, she knew she’d been right because she felt for Marc and he wasn’t there. Slowly, almost painfully, she opened her eyes, feeling more alone than she’d ever been before. She’d known all along that he wouldn’t be here. She’d even prepared herself for the moment, though some part of her had prayed all night she’d be wrong. But wishes were wishes and reality something else entirely…like the creak of the fire escape?

  She held her breath and went to the edge of the roof. She nearly fell over the edge with relief when she saw him, flowers clamped between his teeth as he climbed toward her. “You’re back!”

  He mumbled something around the flower stems but she couldn’t understand what he said. Were the flowers to wish her a nice life before he left her for good…or something else?

  Marc heaved himself over the ledge and held out the flowers. “I wanted to get back before you woke, sorry I didn’t make it. I had to get Stan out of bed for these.” He nodded at the flowers. “He and Jenna are not happy with me at the moment, and you’ve got to give me a key. I’m getting too old for fire escapes.”

  She held her breath, summoning all her courage to ask, “And you brought me flowers because…”

  He gave her an incredulous look. “Because I love you, of course.”

  He grinned and got down on one knee and pulled a little black velvet sack from his shirt pocket. He said something about Cal selling the ring as part of settling an estate, but his words barely registered. Pure happiness bubbled through her, the kind of happiness a woman feels once in her life and drowns out all the sad times.

  He undid the drawstrings and slid an emerald and diamond ring into his palm, then held it up to her, the morning sunlight making it sparkle like the stars at midnight.

  “Marry me, Julia Dempsey. I may be moonstruck, but it’s because of my love for you. I don’t care if it’s a Blue Moon, or because pigs fly or hell freezes over; I love you, and it’s not going to go away. I love you for the rest of our lives, and no phenomenon in nature is going to change that.”

  She knelt down beside him. “I wish this moment could last forever.”

  “It will, I promise, Julia. And the next time there’s a full moon I get to do the wishing.”

  “What will you wish for?”

  He kissed her and tumbled them both back onto the rooftop. “You and a big, big bed.”

  Get more Lori Foster!

  Here’s a sneak peek at

  MURPHY’S LAW,

  available now from Zebra…

  With building impatience and anticipation, Quinton Murphy leaned against the cinderblock wall and checked his watch for the tenth time. How pathetic for a grown man to go to such lengths to talk with a woman.

  A woman who had refused him—after kissing him senseless.

  He didn’t leave. He wouldn’t leave. Not until she showed up and he had a chance to set things right with her.

  Loosening his tie and pulling at the collar of his dress shirt, he cursed the unseasonable warmth of the October night and the stifling stillness of the parking garage. He checked his watch yet again, and then, finally, her yellow Civic pulled through the entrance.

  Headlights flashed around the gray, yawning space, now mostly empty except for his Porsche Carrera and the vehicles of the night shift workers. Her brakes sounded a little squeaky, and she parked with a jerk of the gears that shook the aged automobile.

  Always in a hurry—that described Ashley Miles. At least from what little he’d seen of her. He had to wonder if she ever relaxed or took a day off to laze around.

  As soon as her engine died and her headlights went dark, the driver’s door swung open and she stepped out. Quinton soaked in the sight of her, letting his gaze meander along the length of her long legs, her trim midriff, and the understated curves of her small breasts before settling on her face.

  Once again, he mulled over her startling effect on him—and wondered at it. At thirty-three, he was hardly a monk. He’d had infatuations, relationships of convenience, and once he’d even been in love.

  But something about Ashley, some indefinable nuance in her nature got to him in a most unusual way.

  Pieces of her were perfect: her dark eyes, her long silky hair, and her mouth…God, he loved her mouth.

  She smiled easily, had a sharp tongue, and said no far too often.

  But she kissed with an enthusiasm and hunger that made her impossible to dismiss, almost as if she’d never kissed before and the sensation of it overwhelmed her. He wanted more. He wanted everything. Until he had her, he wouldn’t be able to get her out of his thoughts.

  Put all together, Ashley made a mostly average appearance. But when sh
e spoke, all that sassy attitude came crashing out, and it made her seem appealing yet unattainable, brash yet vulnerable.

  She said things he didn’t expect, behaved in ways unfamiliar to him. She smiled, and he wanted to strip her naked.

  Her car door slammed hard and she looked around the garage behind her, talking to herself in low mumbled words that reeked of irritation and disgust.

  Unaware of his presence, she said, “For God’s sake, Ashley, get a pair, why don’t ya.”

  Never taking his gaze off her, Quinton pushed away from the wall. Patience, he told himself. He’d have her, and soon.

  “A pair of what, Ashley?”

  She screeched. The high-pitched yell of panic bounced around the cavernous garage in deafening force, causing Quinton to wince. “For God’s sake, it’s me.”

  Eyes wide, she whipped around, zeroed in on him, and went from startled to furious in a heartbeat. The change was something to see.

  And she looked as desirable pissed as she did impatient.

  After stomping across the concrete floor, she thrust her chin up close to his face. Since this was the second time he’d startled her in the garage, he felt a little guilty. Holding up his hands in concession, he said, “My apologies.”

  She didn’t soften a bit. “You’re making a habit of this, Murphy, and I don’t like it.”

  Quinton gave in to a half smile, gently touched her hair, and lied through his teeth. “Not on purpose. I just finished some late business. Since I knew you were due in soon, I decided to wait to say hi before heading home.” The last time he’d seen her, he’d been with a client. A sexy, blond, female client, and though he knew Ashley wouldn’t admit it, she’d misinterpreted the situation.

  Now he needed to make her understand his interest for her and her alone.

  For a single suspended moment she stared at him, mostly at his mouth, her expression soft and giving…then with a frustrated growl she strode away from him.

  Damned contrary woman. She wouldn’t make this easy for him. But she did make it interesting.

  Quinton propped his hands on his hips and watched her long-legged retreat, undecided on whether or not he should say anything more.

  But after only three steps she halted. Her straight, stiffened back still to him, she snapped by way of explanation, “I usually don’t scare so easy.”

  An olive branch? He gladly accepted it. “I gathered as much.” He hadn’t known Ashley long, but already he accepted that she wasn’t a timid woman, definitely not a woman who jumped at shadows. In fact, he’d have described her as ballsy beyond belief. “So what’s going on? Why are you so jumpy?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  She shut him out and he didn’t like it.

  Don’t miss Dianne Castell’s

  HOT AND BOTHERED,

  out this month from Brava…

  His neck snapped as someone grabbed his tie and yanked him inside the carriage house, the dark interior making it impossible to see who did the yanking.

  “What the—,” he gasped as the wood door clicked closed. He stumbled, his body flattening a woman’s against the wall, giving him a soft landing that made the choking worth it. He caught the faint aroma of coffee and doughnuts as breasts swelled against his chest, his body reacting as if he hadn’t had sex in months. Hell, maybe he hadn’t. “Charlotte?” he croaked through a shrinking trachea.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Wish I could.” He loosened his tie and gave a quick glance around the narrow hall, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. “Consider using a telephone?”

  “Someone might overhear and I know you don’t want that, and I was heading for my house to change and I saw you coming, and…” She took a deep breath, her face scrunched in question as she peered up at him. “So why did you really come to the office?”

  “The will? The missing daughter? Keeping things quiet? Stop me if you’ve heard this before. You sure you didn’t whack your head when you fell off that chair?”

  Her breath came fast and was getting faster. Her eyes lit with fire—even in the dim light he could tell. “Why me?” she whispered, the implication having nothing to do with the case but with the two of them together now in this hallway after all these years of dancing around.

  His brain refused to function, probably because the part of his anatomy below his belt was overfunctioning. “You run an ad in the yellow pages.” Maybe? He had no idea about anything right now except Charlotte and wanting to kiss her and knowing he shouldn’t. Things between them were complicated—always had been and getting worse by the minute. He studied her delicious mouth, wanting and waiting for his lies. Make that getting more complicated by the second, and if his plan worked, complicated would be a huge understatement and their lives would be totally fucked.

  He touched Charlotte’s cheek, her skin soft and smooth, as her body leaned into his, setting him on fire.

  “We don’t have an ad.” She bit her bottom lip. “You’re right, I should have phoned,” she said with a shiver. “But we’re here now.” She yanked his tie again, bringing his face to hers, and she kissed him right on the mouth, her lips full and moist and delicious and opening. Did they have to open? Closed lips were a lot easier to dismiss, but this was not a dismiss kind of kiss, especially since he’d wanted it for so many damn years he’d lost count.

  She released his tie, her arms sliding around his neck as his tongue touched hers and he lost his mind. Dumbass!

  Their tongues mated, and his hands dropped to her sweet round bottom, pressing her softness to his hardening dick. There’d always been an attraction between them, but this was pure jump-her-bones-and-do-her-right-now lust…and he liked it more than he ever imagined.

  She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, the motion suggestive as hell as her legs parted, nesting his erection tight against her heat. God, she had great heat! He slid his hands into the waistband of her skirt, her firm rump fitting so well into his palms. His mind warped, there was a ringing sound…no kiss or ass-grabbing had ever made his head ring before, especially to the tune of “Moon River”…a Johnny Mercer song…his favorite. Ah fuck! His cell!

  And keep an eye out for

  Lucy Monroe’s newest book,

  THE SPY WHO WANTS ME,

  coming from Brava

  in January 2009!

  According to her files, the tall, muscular scientist was Frank Ingram’s right hand man as well as the project manager on the antigravity experiment that had been compromised, leading to TGP’s interest in ETRD. Any other professional information regarding his role at ETRD was sketchy. TGP only knew what they did about his role on the antigravity project because his name had been on the intercepted plans. Frank had offered the information that Dr. Beau Ruston was his second-in-command when he hired Elle for the security consultation.

  Other than that, she knew that the young PhD had begun working for the company as an intern while pursuing his doctorate. He’d been hired on in a full time capacity even before he’d successfully defended his doctoral thesis. Other than the antigravity experiment and the projects that had gone public, TGP had no information regarding what the man did at ETRD.

  The company was better at keeping secrets than the Pentagon. Much better. Hence the need for an agent on sight to determine the lay of the land.

  She wasn’t here to investigate Beau Ruston per se, but he was certainly someone she was interested in finding out more about.

  She turned and leaned back into the car to grab her briefcase, giving the string man a view of her toned backside in the tailored slacks. Being a good agent meant using all assets at her disposal to do her job. If that included flustering a man by exposing a little thigh, then she did it. If it meant bending over to offer a glimpse of a body she used as a tool for her job, she did it.

  And her instincts told her that she wanted this particular man as off-kilter as she could get him.

  She locked the car and headed toward him, noticing that he had not moved from
his spot in front of the building. So, he knew who she was too and he was waiting for her.

  As personal greeters went, she’d take him.

  His expression neutral, he put his hand out when she was within reaching distance. “Ms. Gray? I’m Beau Ruston.”

  Her hand was engulfed in the warmth and strength of his. For a split second she saw something in his Hershey brown eyes and tension-filled square jaw that found a corresponding response right in her core.

  Desire. Hot. Urgent. Primal.

  And wholly unexpected.

  Oh, she was used to being admired. Even wanted. But that flash of sexual heat went beyond the surface physical reaction of a man and a woman meeting for the first time. And the fact that it mirrored her own response was as close to frightening as facing down the wrong end of her own favorite Ruger P95 semi-automatic.

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  Copyright © 2005 by Kensington Publishing Corp.

  “Once in a Blue Moon” copyright © 2005 by Lori Foster

  “Moon Magnetism” copyright © 2005 by Lucy Monroe

  “Moonstruck” copyright © 2005 by Dianne Kruetzkamp

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  ISBN: 0-7582-4150-X