by Lori Foster
“To what?”
“To who you really are. You’re a…comfortable woman. Genuine and sincere and so damn sweet, I just want to eat you up.” He scowled. “And I know every guy chatting you up is thinking the same thing.”
Grace tried to hide her pleasure. It wasn’t that she wanted Noah to be jealous, just that jealousy from him was still so incredible. “It’s very manly of you to put up with it.”
Noah snorted at that. “If anyone touches you…”
“Shhh.” Grace rested back against him, content. “You’re the only man who will ever touch me.”
Noah squeezed her. “Damn right.”
Grace loved working at the diner, and she was glad Noah wasn’t still peeved about it.
Once they had married, working for Agatha seemed awkward. Grace still helped her out with a few necessary things, but both Noah and Agatha had claimed that, as Agatha’s granddaughter-in-law, she could not work for her. So she worked at the diner.
Noah hadn’t liked that much better, but he’d learned real quick that Grace made her own decisions. She might give him the lead in the bedroom, but it was only in the bedroom. And even there, she was learning to dish out her own form of sensual torture.
Noah loved it. Because he loved her.
“Do you think Kara and Enrique are enjoying life in Florida?”
Noah had opened another restaurant in Florida not long after buying the condo. He’d named it Grace and trained Kara to be the manager of both his rental property and the restaurant, which was located nearby. Enrique, at home in the relaxed, sunny lifestyle, performed at the restaurant nightly.
Agatha had carped and complained about Noah branching off on his own, then went about bragging to everyone about all her grandson’s accomplishments. To Grace’s amusement, Noah now seemed chagrined by Agatha’s praise.
Agatha also exaggerated that half the customers from their restaurant had relocated south just to see Enrique. But since it gave Kara and Enrique a fresh start away from her parents, Agatha had supported the move.
At Harper’s Bistro, Noah had replaced Enrique with a lovely young woman who sang mellow folk songs. The customers, after a brief segment of adjustment, claimed to love her. Harper’s Bistro might have lost some of their female patrons, but hordes of young men crowded in each night.
“If Enrique is half as smart as I’m hoping he is,” Noah said, “he’s making sure Kara loves it there and is spending his free time keeping her happy. Her parents left it entirely too open for her to return home.”
“I know.” Grace absently touched Noah’s nipple beneath his thick chest hair. “Overall, they reacted well. Once they got over the shock.”
“Especially with Agatha there, acting like an expert on parenting, lecturing them to accept Kara and her decisions or lose her.” Noah spoke with a touch of irony. They were all having problems adjusting to the new, more sensitive Agatha. Ben said it turned his stomach, but Grace could tell he was pleased.
“She’s trying, and so are Kara’s parents.”
“It didn’t help that Enrique showed up in leather pants and an open shirt.” Noah chuckled with the memory. “The dumb ass could have at least gotten a haircut before telling Jorge he was going to marry Kara.”
Grace again propped up to look at him. “Kara likes Enrique’s ponytail, and probably his leather pants, too. I think Enrique wanted her to accept him completely, to prove she wasn’t ashamed of him.” Grace studied Noah in thought, and added, “You know, you’d look really hot in leather pants, Noah.”
“Not in this lifetime, Grace, so get that gleam out of your gorgeous brown eyes.”
Grace laughed. “Okay.” She bent and kissed his chest. “But only because you look as good out of pants as in them.”
Noah curved his big hands over her and held her snug against his groin. “Since I’m presently out of my pants, you know what I think I’m going to do to you, Grace?”
At the suggestive heat in his words, a wave of awareness washed over Grace. She shivered. “Okay.”
“Grace.” Noah smiled tenderly. “You’re always so quick to agree, and I haven’t even told you what I’m going to do yet.”
“I’m yours, Noah. You can do anything you want.”
Noah groaned, and in the next heartbeat, Grace found herself pinned beneath him—a position she much enjoyed. “Damn, I do love you, Grace.”
She smiled. “That’s why I’m yours.” Grace drifted her hand down Noah’s body to his hip, then slipped her fingers over one muscled buttock. “Now, Noah, tell me exactly what you have in mind.”
If you liked this Lori Foster novel, you’ll love her other books available from Zebra…
When it comes to love, he plays to win.
There’s only so much frustration a guy can handle before he gets a little nutty. For Jude Jamison, his frustration has a name—May Price. She’s everything the former Hollywood bad boy actor came to Stillbrook, Ohio, hoping to find: open, honest, lovable, and full of those luscious curves you don’t find on stick-figure starlets—curves May doesn’t seem to appreciate in herself. Every time Jude tries to get close to the skittish business woman, to take her in his arms, she thinks he’s joking. Joking? Joking does not involve lots of cold-shower therapy.
Time for new tactics. If May can’t respond to his sly compliments and sexy innuendos, he’ll just have to spell it out for her. Jude Jamison is going to lay down the law for May Price. And after that, she’ll have no delusions about just how much he wants her….
Jude pushed forward until he stood directly in front of her, close, so close he could smell the combined scents of lemon shampoo and powdery lotion. “Hello, May.”
Her lips trembled, then firmed. She turned her face up to his. “Jude.” Her smile wobbled. “Hello. How are you? I didn’t realize you’d be here. You’re usually waiting when I open the doors. But today you weren’t. What with the rain, I assumed—”
Only with him did she chatter. His presence made her nervous. He found that cute. And encouraging.
Resisting the urge to push a shushing finger to her lush lips, Jude said, “Storms don’t keep me inside.” He stared at her mouth. “I think they’re sexy.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. All that crackling energy. The heat. The moisture.”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“You ever made love in the rain, May?”
She shook her head, then squeaked, “No.”
Desire pulsed beneath his skin. “Would you like to?”
Their eyes met, and she stepped backward, almost knocking a tray from a passing waiter. On the guise of assisting her, Jude caught her arm and drew her forward again.
Even through her suit coat and blouse, her arm was plump and soft and warm. Gently, his fingers caressed her.
Rather than send her running, he retreated a bit. “You know I never miss a showing. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
“You have?”
Because she held her arm out to the side like a broken wing, he released her. But at the same time, a pulse tripped wildly in her throat. She had so much repressed sensuality, he burned just thinking of the moment when she’d let loose.
May needed him—in more ways than just the sexual.
If it weren’t for him, he doubted she could stay in business. The arts rarely, if ever, gained priority from the denizens of Stillbrook. The town consisted mostly of farmers and blue-collar workers, more concerned with their schools, their local sports, and the neighborhood bar.
Because he usually secluded himself behind the heavy gates of his property, much of the crowd showed up just to see him. Jude knew it, and he suspected May did too.
“Your showings are one of the few highlights of the town.”
“Thank you.” She bit her lip. “It’s just that you were late—”
Trying to resist you. “A minor inconvenience slowed me down, that’s all.”
“I see.” She blinked big brown eyes at
him, and visibly gathered herself. “Was there something particular you wanted to look at tonight?”
You. Naked. “I’m not sure.” The house he’d built had more walls than he could count. “I’m still working on the downstairs. I need some things for the home theater and the guest room. Something…friendly. Bright. Large.”
Unable to resist, he smoothed back a tendril of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. Silky and soft, warm and sweet. Would she be that sweet all over?
At his touch, May’s dark eyes widened. Deep with intelligence and gentle caring, her eyes fascinated him.
She said, “I have some ideas.”
One eyebrow lifted. “Do you?” Unable to help himself, he glanced at her hands clasped in front of her stomach. Then at the gaping lapels of her suit coat and the silky blouse beneath, buttoned up over her breasts.
“You should come by the house.” His voice dropped. “We could discuss your…ideas.”
Her soft gasp drew his attention back to her eyes. Bright color tinged her soft skin, leaving her blotchy. Never, not with anyone else, did May blush. With him, she often looked like a boiled lobster.
A lobster with untidy hair and mouth-watering breasts.
“I…I don’t know.” Her hands fluttered and she looked around the room, but found no salvation. “I’d have to check my schedule…”
“You know where I live, right?”
She choked on disbelief. But then, even though he’d built on the outskirts of town, everyone in Stillbrook knew where he lived. Hell, he was practically a tourist attraction. Having a well-known personality move into their area was big news a year ago. Because of the rag mags teeming with accusations, speculation, and outright lies, his location remained big news. Even here, in a town barely on the map, the past followed him.
Feeling cynical and annoyed, Jude ran a hand through his hair. “Of course you do.”
She turned businesslike, straightening her rounded shoulders while her brows came down in a slight frown. “You have forty acres, Jude. Your house is…well, magnificent. A mansion. No one around here has ever seen stone fencing like that. The trees alone are so beautiful that…” The frown smoothed away, her expression eased. “Well, besides all that, you’re a celebrity. I bet everyone has driven past your place a time or two.”
When May went into protective mode, she lost her timidity. More than once, she’d acted protective toward him. A novelty, that; but also kind of sweet. “Have you?”
Her lower lip caught in her teeth, and she gave a guilty nod. “I wish I could say I drive by there anyway, but you’d know I was lying.” She stared at him, weighed her words, then shrugged. “I stopped by last week, just…looking at things, and your security camera aimed right at me. I had the odd feeling that…”
“What?”
Her chin came up. “That you were watching me.”
The grin appeared unbidden. He didn’t deny or confirm her accusation. “You should have come up the drive. I’d love to show you around.”
Her eyes widened. “But you have NO TRESPASSING signs everywhere. You keep your gates locked. The security cameras are always on…”
He touched her again, this time just running his thumb along her jawline. “None of that applies to you.”
Retrenching again, he gestured at the display of artwork. “Like I said, I could use some help picking things out.”
Though she continued to blush, a dimple appeared in her cheek. “You have incredible taste and you know it. You’re more sophisticated than I’ll ever be.”
Because he’d been in movies?
Or because he’d survived one of the most celebrated murder trials of the decade?
Anything that can go wrong…
Nothing is going to go wrong. Ashley Miles has worked too hard for her independence to let some Bentley-driving hunk named Quinton Murphy interfere with her plans—or her freedom. Yes, the chemistry is phenomenal. Kind of scary, actually. But that’s it. NO emotional commitments.
…will.
But he’s SO wonderful—a woman could fall in love…How did that happen? That wasn’t part of the plan! But can she trust him? Really trust him? The man is just so mysterious. There’s only one solution: put it all on the line and see what Quinton does when she tells him how she feels. And hope everything that can go wrong…won’t…
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 Carerra 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, 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 she 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 we
re 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 whether 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.
Dear Readers!
I’m so pleased that Kensington chose to reissue Too Much Temptation. Ever since the first release back in March 2002, I’ve heard you tell me, again and again, that this is your favorite of my books. A few of you say it’s because of Noah, while others say it’s because of Grace. I think it’s mostly the two of them together.
Some characters are just that way. They come to me fully fleshed and very real in my mind. They click, and they win me over. Then they win you over.
As soon as I started writing them, Noah and Grace did and said as they pleased, and my only job was to get it down on paper. I could barely keep up! If only all my books were that easy to write.