Twenty Times Tempted: A Sexy Contemporary Romance Collection

by Petrova, Em

  “History Channel…interesting.” He gave her a quick once-over. “You don’t look like the type.”

  She flicked a glance over his shoulder, keeping an eye out for the schemer. “I bet there are a lot of things you’d be surprised to know about me right now.”

  Rebecca headed in their direction, fire coming out of her eyes. Mayday, mayday. Jordana snatched his glass out of his hand, set it down, and pulled him away from the bar. “Do you like to dance?”

  “On occasion,” he said.

  She led him to the middle of the crush on purpose.

  Rebecca came to a stop at the edge of the dance floor, fuming with delicate control.

  Jordana cleared her throat as he cupped her hand in his left and slid his other around her waist, bringing her flush against him.

  Lord, have mercy.

  Earlier, she’d guessed underneath that tuxedo could be a fantastically built body, and she’d been dead-on. With her thighs brushing his legs, her stomach and breasts pressed to his hard torso, Jordana suddenly felt way over her head.

  “From our last conversation, I thought I’d lost my chance with you,” he said, pulling her away from her thoughts of self-doubt. “What made you change your mind about tonight?”

  “I…well, I wanted to see you again.” She dared to lift her lashes.

  He smiled at her as they swayed to the sexy tune. “Good. I was hoping to see you again too, somehow, some way. I planned on attending every charitable event on the calendar, hoping your sister would make you stand in her place again.” His eyes twinkled as he led her in a quick turn. “I can’t wait for our night to really begin.”

  It’ll end before it begins, handsome. She half smiled, dazed, forgetting herself, caught in the arms of a devilishly handsome man, surrounded by decadence and splendor. A surreal atmosphere. “What exactly does the CEO of Savant Financial Group do?”

  “Never sleeps,” he joked. “But I’m not just a CEO. I also own a charter company, a couple restaurants, and commercial properties. Damn. Saying it out loud makes me realize how much I really have on my plate.”

  Oh. One of those. A workaholic with brains, looks, and ambition to spare. Her job as a medical receptionist paid the bills, but she worked to live, didn’t live to work. She felt the breadth of their differences widen. “One business wasn’t enough for you? How do you find time to sleep? Or have fun?”

  “I employ a lot of great people I rely on to help me run them. I sleep when I’m tired, and I schedule fun when I can.” His head tilted and he came close to her mouth, lowering his voice. “Jordana, what’s your idea of fun?”

  Her lips tingled. “At this moment? Dancing with you,” she whispered. Unable to stop herself, she lifted her face just enough so that their mouths brushed. Electric shocks danced on her lips. She felt his quick breath, saw the flame in his eyes. The spell he cast overtook her senses with such dangerous ease, and even though she was obviously under it, she didn’t bother to play coy. He made her feel desirable, seductive. Like a woman with the power to bring a man to his knees. For a breathless moment, her heart stopped in anticipation of a kiss. Would he? Right here, right now?

  “Logan.” The crisp, feminine voice broke the moment and the spell. They moved their heads in unison.

  Rebecca stood there, a smile as warm as a glacier on her red lips. Jordana could’ve sworn the temperature dropped. Logan’s friend propped a hand on her hip and shot her gaze at Jordana, barely able to suppress the contempt in her eyes. “My goodness, I’ve been waiting for a dance of my own. Mind if I cut in?”

  Time to improvise. She felt a little possessive of Logan now, still unstable from their sexy little dance. Finding her composure, Jordana chimed, “Of course I don’t mind. I should be going, anyway. Logan, will you walk me out?”

  He met her gaze with slight confusion. “I thought you and I had plans. You’re leaving?” he asked and she nodded, even though she didn’t intend to leave his side until she got him far from Rebecca.

  “We’ll talk about that on my way out,” she told him.

  He looked from Jordana to Rebecca. Jordana attempted to keep the desperation from her eyes. Come with me, Logan. Don’t go with her. I might not get you back.

  “Rebecca, I’m going walk Miss Shaw to her car. I’ll return in a minute.”

  Jordana controlled the urge to pump a fist in victory.

  Rebecca, however, bestowed a glare that said she wanted to punch a fist into Jordana’s face, but no doubt, social decorum forced her to keep her cool. “Fine. I’ll be waiting.” Swiveling on her heel, she marched off.

  Logan took Jordana’s hand in his and led her out of the ballroom. Her heart tripped at the strength and warmth enveloping her palm, while her mind screamed she had precious minutes to tell him the truth.

  They’d just entered the lobby when he stopped. Shifting his gaze to hers, his brows pulled together. “Why leave? Was it something I said?”

  She searched those incredible eyes, filled with questions and concern for offending a woman he just met. Logan Savant was a good man; her instincts told her so. “No, you say all the right things. I know this is confusing, but I had to get you alone. Come with me.” Looking right then left, she tugged at his hand and he followed. She found a dim hallway that led to the executive offices. Good enough. She pulled him in. “There’s something I need to tell you—”

  “If you’re just trying to have your way with me, I have a suite upstairs,” he joked.

  “You do?”

  “I’m meeting with a client tomorrow, and it was more convenient to stay at the hotel than drive back to my house in Marin.” He stared at her for a long moment. “This is serious, what you’re about to tell me?”

  “It is.” When he skimmed his fingers along her arm, she shivered involuntarily. Good grief. She couldn’t form any kind of coherent sentence now. What was she about to say? “Logan—”

  “I like it when you say my name,” he told her, his voice deep, hypnotic. “Really like it.”

  He moved in, and she steadied a hand to his chest. Uh-oh. He was going to kiss her. “Wait.”

  “I can’t.” He possessed her mouth before she could stop him. Not that she really tried to. His lips were warm, sweetly insistent, firm with silken power. Whatever she’d imagined kissing him would be like didn’t come close to the real thing. He parted his mouth, cajoling her to do the same, and when she received the barest taste of his tongue, she gasped with the compounding desire overtaking her. She drew back, breath lost, making it a challenge to speak. “Y-you need to know—”

  “Whatever it is, it’s not important. This is. Please. Again.” He possessed her mouth with more urgency, and she couldn’t find the strength to break away, as much as she knew she must. He moaned low, capturing her upper lip with a tender pull, then her bottom, taking her mouth over and over, wiping every kiss in her memory before this one. His tongue touched her lips and she opened with a soft cry of surrender as he slowly slid inside. The taste of him knocked her senseless. A combination of sugar, a trace of liquor, and his own personal flavor. She slid her palms over his broad shoulders, linking them behind his neck.

  This time, Logan pulled away. “Wow,” he breathed, his forehead touching hers, arms encircling her back. “More.”

  “Mm-hm.” Jordana grasped his face as he claimed her again. Addicted. Perhaps simply stalling. He might not want to kiss her again once she told him about Rebecca. What was that saying about the messenger?

  She dropped her head back, and he transferred his lips to the corner of her mouth, then down the line of her neck as her eyelids drooped heavy with lust. Oh, he was making this impossible. She fought against the impetus pulling at her to let go and lose her mind in lust. “Logan, seriously. I…I don’t want you to stop, but you have to.”

  His hands splayed on her back, fingers digging in as he continued kissing her neck. Just when she thought her legs would give out, he lifted his head. Blinking up at him, she started to notice his eyes were gla
zed over, unfocused, pupils dilated. He squeezed his eyes shut. Then did it again. “What…what is it?” he rasped. “All of a sudden, I don’t feel…so good.”

  Oh, no. The drug must’ve taken effect. She hesitated, searching his glassy eyes. “I need to talk to you about Rebecca.”

  Logan shook his head short and fast. “Rebecca?” He leaned on her as if he had trouble keeping upright, only catching himself from collapsing on her by splaying a hand on the wall. He cursed, squinting.

  Pretty soon, he’d fall asleep on her if she didn’t take action.

  What to do now? If she didn’t take him somewhere quickly, there would be a real problem on her hands: a passed-out millionaire on the floor of a five-star hotel, too drugged to move. “Your room,” she exclaimed, straining him to keep him upright. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  “You want to go to the suite? Really?”

  At the drowsy hopefulness in his tone, she couldn’t stop from smiling as she responded with a firm and clear, “Yes. Immediately.” She pulled him out of the alcove. He stumbled a few steps, but blessedly, was able to walk on his own without aid. The roofie was working and working fast. Jordana growled inwardly. The conniver might have gone as far as drugging him, but she wouldn’t get anywhere near him now.

  The elevators were just around the corner. “Wait here,” she instructed.

  “I will,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  Jordana scampered to the front desk, and a minute later, a security guard brought her purse. Returning to the elevators, she pushed the up button and went to Logan, taking his heavy arm and putting it around her shoulders. “Here. Lean on me.”

  “I’m okay,” he claimed, even though he accepted her support.

  He definitely wasn’t okay from what she was witnessing. An elevator opened up. “What floor?” she asked.

  “Nine.”

  After the doors parted, Jordana wobbled on her heels down the long hallway, with Logan’s arm around her and her feet crying for a reprieve. Thankfully, he found his room key without assistance. The classically decorated suite was spacious and decadent, with elegant furnishings and a breathtaking panoramic view of San Francisco. For crying out loud, it was bigger than her entire apartment and her neighbor’s combined.

  After Logan shut the door, he took his arm off her shoulders and shuffled for the bedroom to the left. Stretching a hand out to the king-size four-poster bed, he sat down on the edge of the mattress with a soft grunt and tiredly peeled off his jacket.

  Sympathy bloomed in her heart as she took off her heels. Going to the bedroom, fiddling with her fingers, she stood in front of him. “I’m sorry, Logan.”

  Shoulders slumped, face drawn with fatigue, he shook his head. “Sorry? No…no, I’m sorry we couldn’t finish what we started.” His hands reached out for her waist, drawing her to him. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  Jordana set her hands on his shoulders. “You don’t have to. Now listen, I have to tell you something.”

  Ignoring her, he pressed a soft kiss between her breasts, causing her legs to want to give from the tenderness of it. With a hungered moan, he kissed the top of her right breast, then her left, between them again, clenching his fingers on her hips. She gave a whimper and her eyes fluttered closed while she raked her hands through his silken hair, holding him close. When she felt the zipper on the side of her dress give, she flashed her eyes open, thinking she should stop him. She did nothing of the sort as he pulled her dress down, exposing her breasts.

  He drew back, and the expression on his face—resembling awe, appreciation, and longing—had to be because of the drug.

  His mouth dropped open. “My God, Jordana,” he groaned. “You are…”

  She gasped as his arms suddenly dropped, his eyes rolled back, and he flopped to the bed.

  Out cold.

  Chapter Three

  “Logan?” She gave him a little shake. His response was a soft snore.

  She sighed in relief, rezipping her dress, noticing the bulge between his legs. Oh, my.

  “Stop it. The poor man in unconscious,” she whispered. She took off his glossy dress shoes and, after an insane test of strength, moved him up to the middle of the bed so he would lie comfortably. The Herculean effort of pushing and pulling his heavy, athletic body didn’t stir him at all. She checked his pulse, which was strong, and he breathed steadily. He’d be okay.

  As she began removing his bow tie and undoing a few buttons of his shirt, she slowed her actions, idly adoring his handsome face. Too tempted, she smoothed away an errant lock of his black hair, skimming his cheek with her fingertips.

  A harried knock on the door startled her. Moving away from Logan, she hesitated on the edge of the bed, debating whether she should answer it or ignore it.

  “Logan? Are you in there?” a muffled voice called. “It’s Rebecca.”

  Jordana instantly glowered. Oh. Her. She headed to the living room, unpinning her hair, mussing it. When she opened the door, she wished she could’ve taken a picture of the expression on the woman’s face.

  “Yes?” Jordana greeted.

  Rebecca crossed her arms, flicking a glance over Jordana’s shoulder. “Where’s Logan? I need to speak with him right now.”

  “It’ll have to wait.” She wanted to give Rebecca a piece of her mind, tell her she knew what she’d been up to and how despicable it was, but that would be pointless. All that mattered was her plan had been foiled.

  Her icy-blue gaze damned Jordana, turning to slits. “Hey, Logan and I have been friends for a long time. We came together and—”

  “And you’re leaving without him. Goodnight.” She shut the door and stood on her toes to look through the peephole.

  Rebecca growled with frustration, putting a cell phone to her ear. “Mother!” she gritted out, stomping off.

  “Yes, by all means, call your mother and tell her about your epic fail.”

  Satisfied, Jordana smiled. Though it crossed her mind to go home, she decided not to leave Logan alone. For one, Rebecca could find a way into his room and salvage her scheme. Two, since she didn’t have time to explain anything before he passed out, she’d have to do it tomorrow.

  Besides, it would take her almost an hour to get home from here and she was exhausted. She switched off the lights. Edging around the bed, she fixed her gaze on him. Fate had put her in Lucee’s place for this reason, and she wanted to see it through. Lifting the hem of her dress, she climbed on the bed and lay down, facing him. Sure, she could sleep on the sofa, but she thought it best to stay close to him in case his condition changed. Taking in a long breath, she determined to stay awake as long as possible to watch him and make sure he was all right. She tucked her hands under her cheek and bent her knees to her chest. He murmured incoherently and turned his head toward her, the corner of his mouth lifting.

  Tomorrow might be a little awkward, considering all she had to tell him.

  However, she didn’t want to think of that now. She wanted to think of his kisses…the long, sensual, desperate taste of him. A smile spread on her lips.

  What the hell was that piercing sound? Logan blinked his sore eyes open and saw shafts of sunlight peeking through the curtains.

  Punched in the head with a resounding migraine, he rolled to his side and came face-to-face with Jordana, sleeping, her head resting on one bent arm.

  Apparently, he’d invited her to his room, though, by the looks of things, they’d come up here and fallen asleep. In their clothes. Except for his jacket, tie, and shoes, he was still dressed, and she still wore her gown, both of them lying on top of the sheets instead of naked and in between them. He raked a hand through his hair, mystified. The evening flashed back in bits and pieces, but the present scene was very peculiar considering his past. He couldn’t remember a time he ever spent the night with a woman that didn’t include at least partial nudity.

  Well, regardless, she was lovely to wake up next to. Her brown hair had been freed from its pinned ’do a
nd was spread all over the pillow in waves. Full lashes cast short shadows on her cheeks, her slighted parted mouth urged him to kiss her awake, and her bottom lip had the cutest little dip in the middle.

  If only he didn’t have a headache the size of a mountain lodged in his skull.

  Forcing himself to sit up, he saw his aspirin sitting on the bedside table and grabbed it. In the bathroom, he took the pills, splashed cold water on his face, combed a wet hand through his hair, and rubbed a fresh towel over his shadow.

  For the life of him, he couldn’t conceive how he’d passed out last night, since all he could recount were a few drinks and one glass of champagne. It took more than that induce a blackout. A lot more. Especially if he had a woman as tempting as Jordana in his arms.

  He sauntered into the bedroom, hands in pockets. He remembered just about every event leading up to this: cocktail hour, meeting Jordana, the auction, the party, their dance…those incredible kisses in the hallway, unzipping her dress, and then…question mark. He had to admit he’d been pleasantly surprised when she showed up in the ballroom, reigniting his desire and excitement the second she smiled at him. The same powerful reactions he felt when he first set eyes on her during the reception.

  One minute, he was feigning interest in Lancaster’s endless rhetoric about—something… The next, Jordana stepped in with her quip about his mistake, and her presence revived his mood like a shot of sunshine after days of clouds.

  Their playful exchange had been a welcomed diversion to what began as a predictable evening. She was unlike every woman in the room, something about her separating her from the rest. Her soft beauty, smile, and unpracticed, seductive air captivated him. She didn’t try to be anyone but herself, and that stood out in a room teeming with phonies.

  He’d given her the Sigvy out of impulse, a thank-you for reminding him that he could still be enchanted once in a while. An outrageous gesture, no doubt, to give her a necklace of such worth considering they were nothing more than strangers. But he gave away his money all the time. What was the difference?