Reason to Believe (White Lace)

by Gina Gordon

I had decided to write a series about the porn industry because I wanted to do something different. I had no idea that Max, Everly, Ben, and Grace would take me on an emotional journey unlike any other book. Ben and Grace in particular were tough to write. Both of them are broken. Both of them are closed-off. But who better than a director of porn and a former escort to give each other a clean slate and a chance at happily ever after?

  Sue Grimshaw, thank you for being right. Again!

  To the usual suspects: LB, SG, SK, and DK. You girls are the silver lining to this sometimes crazy, sometimes miserable, but always exciting thing we call being an author.

  And most importantly, thank you readers. Your enthusiasm for all my books is overwhelming and each time you tweet or share or blog or post, you make my already dream-come-true even better.

  BY GINA GORDON

  White Lace

  Rush

  Reason to Believe

  Body & Soul

  Naked

  Seduced (coming soon)

  About the Author

  When her dream of becoming a mafia princess didn’t pan out, GINA GORDON went after her second dream: becoming a writer. And she hasn’t looked back. A self-proclaimed happily ever after junkie and cupcake connoisseur, Gordon loves spinning contemporary tales of knee-bending first kisses, unconditional love, and super-hot sex. She lives in Milton, Ontario, with her husband and their lovable dog.

  ginagordon.net

  Facebook.com/GinaGordonAuthor

  @GordonGina

  The Editor’s Corner

  Swing into spring this May with Loveswept! We’ve got something for everyone, so take your pick from these fabulous romance books.

  Tracy March brings you another enchanting novel set in Colorado, with book two in her Thistle Bend series, Just Say Maybe. Brenda Rothert releases her first Loveswept book, Blown Away, a sensual, emotionally charged novel of love and loss in which a tender affair gives two daring storm chasers the strength to overcome shattered dreams and the courage to build a future together. Then we go from extreme weather to the world of extreme sports with Zoe Dawson’s pulse-pounding Mavrick Allstars series debut, the steamy Ramping Up. Bestselling author HelenKay Dimon makes her Loveswept debut with Mr. and Mr. Smith. Moving on from the suspenseful to the sensual is a novel of pleasure and persuasion revolving around a high-stakes business deal in which the rules of negotiation are defined by desire in Shawntelle Madison’s Bound to You. New York Times bestselling author Noelle Adams introduces a notorious tech mogul who makes a mild-mannered woman an offer she can’t refuse and gets in return a battle for control—and a million-dollar affair—in Fooling Around. The Hunt Club continues with Pamela Labud’s A Most Delicate Pursuit. New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy follows Nashville’s hottest country music duo as they fight for love in a city where dreams often cost a broken heart in Heart Breaker. And New York Times bestselling author Sawyer Bennett proves that vengeance is sweet—but seduction is to die for—in Sugar Daddy.

  Wait—there’s more! Gina Gordon’s White Lace series continues in book two with lots of sizzle and heat in Reason to Believe. A. M. Madden continues the True Heroes series—hot hero alert!—with Glass Ceilings. Two tortured souls share an unbreakable bond even as they break taboos, as Laura Marie Altom does it again with a fabulous stepbrother romance in Stepping Over the Line. Back in the sporting world, Stacked Up continues the Worth the Fight series from USA Today bestselling author Sidney Halston. And Interference continues the Pilots Hockey series from Sophia Henry, where a young single mom falls for a damaged coach pulling double-duty as a cop.

  It’s a great month for relationships, so follow us on Facebook and Twitter and let the romance begin!

  Until next month ~Happy Romance!

  Gina Wachtel

  Associate Publisher

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Naked

  A Body & Soul Novel

  by Gina Gordon

  Available from Loveswept

  Chapter 1

  Just a little to the…BINGO!

  Violet Walker sipped on her morning coffee and enjoyed her favorite moment of the day: the moment her hot neighbor climbed up on his roof. Who knew fixing shingles could be so mesmerizing?

  He’d finally made his way to the left side of the house, which meant his tight, perfect ass was always on display. Although his tight, rippled abs in a well-fitted T-shirt weren’t hard on the eyes either.

  She sank down in her chair when he made a sudden shift. In the three months since he’d shown up, they had never conversed. There had been some close calls since she’d started ogling him from her window. Once she’d had to duck and hide on all fours because he’d turned, and she could have sworn they’d made eye contact.

  “Violet! Are you listening to me?” Roxaline King, her best friend, screamed into the phone.

  “Yes, yes.” She put down her mug on the outdated dining room table; just one of the items that had come with the purchase of the house. “Get off my ass. Date. Have fun.” Violet swiveled in her chair, taking her eyes off the dreamboat for a moment.

  Roxy’d been squawking the same thing for the past five months. Since the day Violet had set foot in this small town and hidden from…everyone and everything she’d ever known. Her perfect life was no longer perfect, and she just didn’t know how to exist in that world.

  “And what’s our mantra?” Roxy asked.

  Violet groaned. “It’s your mantra. Not mine.” She and Roxy had very different sex lives. Something that Violet had always been envious of. She’d tried to rectify it once, and it only served to tear her life apart.

  “Well…?” She imagined Roxy standing there, tapping her foot on the ground waiting for her compliance.

  With a heavy sigh, Violet repeated the three words Roxy had lived by since they were in high school. “Fuck. Rinse. Repeat.”

  Roxy squealed in excitement. “Not necessarily in that order or with the same guy.”

  Violet laughed, loud enough that she glanced over to the open window to make sure hottie hadn’t heard. “You’re going to get yourself into so much trouble one day.”

  “And I can’t wait for that day.” Silence fell between them, which meant Roxy had something on her mind. “I’m worried about you.”

  It might annoy the shit out of her, but Violet appreciated that someone still called to check up on her. Her mother was preoccupied, trying her best to keep their family whole, and her father…

  Since he’d been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s, there were times when he didn’t even remember her name.

  “You’re in a depressing funk. It’s that damn town. You spend any more time there and you’ll be a townie. I know you visit the local grocery store and know everyone’s name. I know you do.”

  She laughed, imagining Roxy pointing at her as if they were in the same room. Even though it had been two weeks since her best friend had visited.

  “It’s sort of like living in Stars Hollow.” The addition of all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls to Netflix might have been the best thing to happen to her since she’d moved here.

  But Roxy was right. She was a long way from the private schools, social dinners, and charity galas they’d grown up with. The town of Stillbride wasn’t conducive to mani-pedis and colorists.

  “I’m glad you’re coming home tomorrow.” Her best friend’s voice grew solemn. “Even if you’re not seeing me, just knowing you’re back makes a difference.”

  Soon enough, she’d be home permanently. Her father had agreed to her six-month isolation on the condition she’d make the time useful and scope out some new land for her dream project. Which was why she’d purchased this house and intended to purchase every other house within a mile radius to build Walker Industries’ first residential subdivision. Her father had groomed her since birth to take over the family commercial construction business, and she loved every moment of her job—despite the terror that gripped her at the thought of the impending handi
ng over of the reins.

  A sharp hammering caught her attention and she stood, making her way to the window. She hugged the edge, letting only her face peek through the curtain while she raised on her toes, welcoming the bite of pain—an old habit from years of taking ballet as a child. Dreamboat was hunched over; his white tank hugged his perfect torso and showed off the full sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. Her mouth watered. God, she was pathetic. It had been much too long since she’d gotten some, and she didn’t see that streak ending anytime soon. She was a grieving fiancée, for goodness’ sake.

  She sipped on the bitter brew that she’d sweetened with vanilla-flavored cream, holding it in front of her face while tapping her finger on the rim. She was using his mug. Steven’s. Even after five months of careless use, the cup was perfectly intact. Unlike him. Unlike her life.

  A loud bang caught her attention and she whipped her gaze to the window only to witness her neighbor tumble, head over feet, off the roof.

  Her heart stopped.

  “Oh, shit!” She whipped her hand up to cover her mouth. “He just fell off the damn roof.”

  “Who? What?” Roxy screeched.

  “My neighbor.” She scrambled to the dining table and set down her cup. “He just fell off the fucking roof.”

  “You’re spying on the neighbor?”

  That’s what she’d picked up from this?

  “Wait! He?”

  “I have to go.” She slammed her phone on the table and raced out her front door. She darted across her lawn, the fresh spring air pleasant on her skin. She didn’t get nearly enough of it.

  She hit the sidewalk and stepped onto his property, running to the back of the house where she hoped the gate to the backyard would be open, or at least unlocked.

  She slammed into it, feeling around the top for the metal lock, but her fingers seized.

  Fuck you, fingers.

  Work, damn it.

  Her heart was pounding out of her damn chest. She jiggled the lock, but her fingers refused to grasp the too-small latch. “Damn it. Just hold on,” she yelled.

  What if she didn’t get to him in time? His head could be bleeding out this very second.

  She kicked at the gate and the impact was just what she needed. She used the back of her hand to slide the clasp and she pulled back the door so hard, it banged against the brick of the house behind her. “Are you all right?” she called out while running down the side of the house. “Should I call nine-one-one?” When she finally hit the backyard she stopped short. “What the…?”

  “Hi, there.”

  Instead of a body splattered across a concrete patio as she was expecting, she found her neighbor lounging on a trampoline. Which was what had caught his fall when he’d…Her brain spun with possibilities. She looked up at the roof. At the ladder that was propped up against the back of the house. At the trampoline. At the man. “Did you…did you fake falling off the roof?”

  What kind of person would do that?

  He just shrugged.

  “Why would you fake falling off the roof?” Her voice was a couple octaves higher than normal. She grabbed at her chest. This was what a heart attack felt like. She was sure of it.

  “How else was I going to get you to come over here?”

  She was sure she felt her mouth hit the grass beneath her with a thud.

  “I’ve lived here for three months and not so much as a hello.” He flashed a set of white teeth that sparkled against his tanned skin.

  Sweet merciful heavens. Are those dimples?

  “But I know you like watching from your window.”

  Shit! He did see her watching him.

  “I…well…I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall and break your neck.” She shrugged, giving her best impression of nonchalance. “You don’t have a harness in place. It’s dangerous.”

  Get yourself together. No man has ever tied your tongue.

  His eyebrow quirked up. “How do you know about roof safety measures?”

  He just lay there, his broad chest rising and falling with his steady breath. He was rugged. Masculine. With a shaved head and chocolate brown eyes that seemed to see right through her. Now that she was this close, she noticed his facial hair—at least two days’ worth of it. She’d never felt the hard scrape of stubble against her skin. She’d fantasized about it, even craved it occasionally.

  Fuck. Rinse. Repeat.

  Stop it. Get your head on straight. You’re not feeling anyone’s stubble between your legs.

  She froze.

  What? Who said anything about him being between your legs?

  When she turned her attention back to him, he just stared at her in curiosity. His eyes zeroing in on her body caused her nipples to harden. But a heavy throb started in her hand, grounding her back to reality. She squeezed it tight then shook it out, trying to manage the discomfort. “That’s neither here nor there.”

  “Neither here nor there?” He kicked out his legs, his butt bouncing on the trampoline as he made his way to the edge. “Let me guess…a degree in English or art history?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s a little judgmental.”

  For the record, it was neither. She had a master’s in business administration.

  He cocked his head. “You’re right. An English major probably wouldn’t be driving a Cayenne.” He winked, and she felt it…everywhere.

  So she had a Porsche. It was a gift from her father. It’s not like she was going to ask him to take it back.

  A slight breeze settled across her skin and goosebumps covered her legs. With a gasp, she crossed her arms over her chest and clamped her legs together. It was then that she realized she had run out of the house with no shoes and in tiny short-shorts. At least she had her torso covered. She’d been hiding herself under heavy sweaters and refusing to make eye contact for months. No need to prove she was as imperfect on the outside as she felt on the inside.

  “So you just moved to the neighborhood?” she asked.

  You don’t need to know that. You don’t need to know anything other than he’s not bleeding out.

  “You know there’s an easier way to get to know me.” He bounced a couple of times on the trampoline as he jumped off, then walked closer.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, doing her best to guard herself from the six-foot-two wall of sexiness approaching. “I don’t think that—”

  “We could go on a date.” He said it so matter-of-factly, she was afraid she’d heard incorrectly.

  “A…” No. No dates. She wasn’t ready to date. She could barely function when she picked up groceries and the store was busy, let alone go on a date with…

  A really sexy man who is looking like he wants to screw your brains out.

  She whimpered. His gaze roamed everywhere, but like a gentleman, when she spoke, he looked into her eyes.

  “I can’t. I…I’m going into the city tomorrow, so—”

  “Then go out with me tonight.”

  “Wha…” This guy was relentless. Old Violet would have appreciated his candor and persistence, but not hopeless Violet. Hopeless Violet just wanted to get through the day without squirming whenever she looked in the mirror. “I can’t go out with you tonight.”

  He stepped even closer and she drew in a quick breath. “You have other plans?”

  “No, but…” She had no plans. Zero. Other than looking over city zoning applications.

  “Then you’re free.” Dimples. They were going to be the death of her. Or the resurrector of her libido. She had no idea which would come out on top.

  She scoffed. “You don’t even know my name and you want to go on a date?”

  He stepped forward. She’d spent many hours surrounded by sweaty, dirty construction workers, but never had the scent of manual labor turned her on. Maybe it was the beauty of his body. The way he moved with such agility and precision on that roof. The way his biceps flexed whenever he lifted something, or pulled off a shingle, or rais
ed his hammer. Or the way it flexed right now as he held out his hand in greeting.

  Fuck. Rinse. Repeat.

  She stifled a whimper.

  Resurrector of the libido.

  Definitely.

  “I’m Noah Y—”

  “No.” She thrust out her hands to stop him. “No last names.”

  Although she had no reason to believe that this stranger would know her, back home just the mention of her name in a public place would trigger the discussion of her accident and the implosion of her life.

  “All right.” He eyed her curiously. “And you are…?”

  “Violet.” She grasped his hand. His skin was rough against hers. A stark contrast to her soft, unworked hands.

  “Nice to meet you, Violet.” How did he do that? Even with an uneven grin those dimples made an appearance. “I’ll pick you up at eight?”

  She’d had severely limited interaction with the human species for the last five months. Maybe it was about time she tried to do something normal. No, it was those dimples. They were like the forbidden fruit she’d never had the chance to taste.

  She let out a heavy breath. What did she have to lose? She was only here for four more weeks before she returned to Toronto, back to her old life, which included taking over as CEO of Walker Industries.

  Besides, Noah was barely home. Probably screwing the legions of women who fell at his feet. At least if their date ended up being a total disaster she wouldn’t have long to wallow in her humiliation.

  “Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “On one condition.”

  He smiled in victory and once again, the dimple and teeth combo were like a one-two punch to her vagina.

  “No last names. No history. Just…there’s no need to get into all our baggage.” She waved her hand. She had a 747’s worth of baggage.

  “So you have baggage?” He looked on with interest. Setting those parameters probably intrigued him even more. “Doesn’t everybody?” She knew that was true, but right now she didn’t think anyone had more baggage than she did.