Brenda was at her savage best, in a whip-tight black suit, stiletto heels, and flame-red lips. She was pointing alternately between Jim and Lacey. Jim looked serene. Lacey looked … bemused.
She looked more than that, actually. Where Brenda was all sharp angles and razor-thin edges, Lacey seemed … softer to him. She dressed in a clingy knit dress that accentuated her curves, a deep pink that seemed more feminine than anything he’d ever recalled her wearing. She looked fresher for her weekend away. For the first time this morning, he began to doubt himself. Maybe this wouldn’t work after all—maybe it wouldn’t be the right thing for Lacey. Maybe she was happier where she was, doing what she loved to do.
“She has brought nothing but shame and notoriety to our firm!” Brenda seethed. Then Jim did put out a hand.
“Notoriety, certainly. Shame, well. It depends on how you look at it,” he said. “I’ve gotten no less than a dozen texts and emails from happy corporate sponsors. A half dozen more from potential sponsors looking for the opportunity to come up with a similarly fresh idea for their corporate brands. I’ve had a few direct requests for Lacey to be on the account. And don’t even talk to me about the firms who’ve contacted me trying to hire her away.”
“Lacey!” Brenda sputtered. “But I put together those deals!”
“And she executed them.” Jim nodded. “With flair and innovation. Together, I’d say you made a powerful team.”
That brought both women’s heads up, and Jim held up his hands to ward off the twin storms heading his way. “Not that I’d have you work together again, of course. You both should have the opportunity to develop your own accounts.”
“She is—was—a junior agent!” Brenda fisted her hands against her boney hips. “She should not get a promotion over this. She should barely keep her job.”
A promotion as well. Dante frowned, another chip in his confidence giving way. Lacey would have the opportunity to work with the hottest celebrities and stars in sports and entertainment. That would allow her to be creative, to pursue her dreams in a career that was constantly changing. Maybe she would like that better after all. Maybe she—
“Lacey has put herself in a position to make her own choices,” Jim’s words overrode Brenda’s diatribe. He turned to the front of the door, his grin widening in welcome and maybe a little relief as he spied Dante leaning there. “Ah yes, Dante—I was hoping you’d be here.”
But Dante wasn’t looking at Jim—or even at Brenda, who was trying and failing to rein herself back in. He was looking at Lacey.
And Lacey was looking back at him, as if he was her whole world.
Or maybe this will work after all …
“Can I see you for a moment, Lacey?” Dante asked. “Privately?”
“Why?!” Brenda wailed, but Dante was already pulling Lacey out of the room. They entered another conference room, Lacey shutting the door behind her, but suddenly she wasn’t looking at him, her teeth clamped on her lower lip, her jaw faintly trembling. He picked up her hand, holding it tight, though she made no move to pull away. Finally, she lifted her gaze to his. That was good, right? That she let him hold her hand?
He realized he was staring at her, when she squeezed his hand a little. “Dante?” she asked, worry for him suddenly overriding her own distress. “Are you okay? Is everything all right?”
“It’s great, it’s good. It’s perfect,” he said, wincing as the words came out too rushed, too clipped. “Lacey, I want …” He should do this slowly, he thought. More professionally. But she was here and he was here and the moment seemed to be slipping away from him, stolen by promotions and corner offices. It was now or never. He smiled and held her gaze. “I’d like you to be my manager, Lacey.”
“Dante—”
“I know you have other options,” he said, cutting her off. “I know you could do whatever you want to do. Follow your dreams, be your own person. But I—I want you to be with me.”
Lacey’s eyes widened, and he hurried on, not wanting to say the wrong thing. “I want you involved in every step of my career. To be there to champion me when I have dreams that should come true, to pursue your dreams so I can watch you make them come true. That’s important. I need that. I just …” He shrugged. “I need you.” When she smiled, he fought the kick of emotion, forced himself not to look away. Her gaze seemed darker now, shinier. “Will you consider it?”
Lacey was shaking her head, though, causing his heart to go tight and hard in his chest. “But Dante, I don’t know anything about—”
“You know me,” Dante said, shaking his head. He tightened his hand on hers. “You know me.”
Lacey blinked at him, stunned when he named an astronomical figure for her salary. It was more than what the other entertainment houses were offering to pay her, and it came with one life-size perk none of them could hope to have.
“You really want me to be your manager?” she asked. She couldn’t—could she? She could, she realized. She had the skills; she had the passion. She had this incredible man in front of her. Wanting her to succeed, believing in her. Wanting her as part of his team.
Dante’s smile was a little crooked now. “I want you in my life, Lacey, however I can get you. To make all of this just … worth it.” He swallowed. “And I want you to listen to music again. Not just mine, but everything. Everywhere. Wherever your heart wants you to go.”
Somewhere deep inside her, the tweenage Lacey swooned, but the rest of her had sort of stopped listening after his first sentence. “Your life?” she whispered.
And then he stopped, too, his eyes going wide. “You really don’t get it, do you?” he asked. “Lacey, I’ve spent a lot of years trying to keep the world safely on the outside. Knowing that I could have anything I wanted—but not everything I wanted. I couldn’t fall in love. I couldn’t trust anyone that far, or expect them to be real. It just wasn’t worth it. They always let me down.” He smiled at her, and she struggled to find words. Struggled—and failed.
Which was okay, because Dante had more to say.
“But then there was you. And you never let me down. Since the first time you decided I was special, that I deserved your time—you never wavered. Even when I didn’t know you, you had enough force of will for both of us.” He smiled, and the intensity of that smile went right through her. “But I do know you now. And I have a lot of force of will myself. I’ve finally found someone I can love with my whole heart … and that’s you, Lacey. I love you.”
“Dante—,” Lacey began, and she could see the alarm in his eyes, the worry over what she would say. Is he insane?
“Would you come spend time with me—work with me, be with me, Lacey? Try us out?” Dante scrubbed his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “Try this out?”
“Yes,” Lacey said. “Yes, Dante, I’ll do it. For you, for us, for this, for everything.” She blinked her eyes furiously, but something was in them again, and her voice sounded crumbly, all rough and wobbly, not like her voice at all. In front of a dozen mirrors in over a thousand fantasies, she’d always imagined what she would say to Dante Falcone. But now that the moment was in front of her, the words were all different—because she was different. She wasn’t giving voice to some random wondering dream, but to a promise made between two people willing to give life a try. “I will help you find your way to whoever you want to be, I’ll be there for you every moment.”
“For us, not just for me,” Dante said, and he was closer now, leaning in to brush his lips against hers. “I want your dreams to come true, too.”
“They will; they have,” Lacey whispered, and she saw the future now in Dante’s eyes, the future she’d only glimpsed of the two of them together. A future that against all rational odds was actually happening. “Sooner or later, they always do.”
Funny thing how dreams work, Lacey thought, as Dante pulled her tightly to him, in an embrace that proclaimed that the time for fantasies was over—and the time for real life was here. If only you can dream it, it might just
come true.
About the Author
JENNIFER CHANCE is the award-winning author of the New Adult Rule Breakers series. A lover of books, romance, and happily-ever-afters, she lives and writes in Ohio. You can find her online at www.JenniferChance.com, on Facebook at Facebook.com/authorJenniferChance, and on Twitter at @Jenn_Chance.
The Editor’s Corner
Welcome to Loveswept!
March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, and so do our Loveswept romances, enticing stories ready to seduce you all month long. Take a look at this list!
Just One Night finishes up Lauren Layne’s Sex, Love & Stiletto series featuring Sam Compton, the hero we’ve all been waiting for. New York’s hottest “sexpert,” Riley McKenna, has been living a lie, and it’s up to one man to keep her honest … all night long. Dream It introduces a new hot series by Jennifer Chance with the tale of a smoldering rocker and the fangirl who catches his eye. And Third Degree, Julie Cross’s new Flirt release, is one you don’t want to miss in the new adult coming-of-age scene. Marshall Collins gives Izzy Jenkins all the normalcy she’s looking for while Izzy teaches Marshall a thing or two of her own.
Classic Loveswept romances are back, too, and this month Sandra Chastain’s Adam’s Outlaw and The Runaway Bride top the list, followed by Fran Baker’s San Antonio Rose. And don’t miss Linda Cajio’s delightful Night Music, coming on the heels of Karen Leabo’s suspenseful and spirited Witchy Woman. Deborah Harmse’s charming and warmly passionate romance, A Man to Believe In, will touch your heart, and New York Times bestselling author Iris Johansen’s rerelease of Satin Ice continues with the Delaney family saga.
Last but not least, always a favorite of ours, New York Times bestselling author Connie Brockway sweeps us back to Victorian England with her enchanting stories Bridal Favors and Bridal Season.
Let Loveswept warm you on those cold winter nights.
∼Happy Romance!
Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher
Jennifer Chance’s sizzling new series continues with
FAKE IT
which sparks some serious combustion between a sexy biker and a corporate go-getter who’s ready to let her hair down.
Turn the page for a special sneak peek!
Chapter 1
He had to be beautiful.
You could fake thoughtful and kind. You could pretty much fake intelligent, at least for a little while. You could even fake rich. But beautiful—no. That was either there or it wasn’t.
Beautiful and sexy would be even better, though. A guy with long, lean legs and broad shoulders, powerful arms and wide, strong hands that always gripped the handles of his roaring muscle bike just—yeahhhh.
As in: yeahhhh, right. She needed to focus.
Anna Richardson took a sip of her vodka cranberry and stared down at her notebook. A list of seventeen fully articulated pick-up lines marched across the page, each of them perfectly crafted to ensure that the moment she started speaking any red-blooded male between the ages of fifteen and fifty would fall at her feet without so much as a whimper. Only, she had no one to say those words to. Not a man, not a boy, not a gigolo, not a chance. She had no credible XY-chromosome options of any stripe to hit up, anywhere within the greater Boston area.
Even the neighbor-of-a-million-fantasies motorcycle sex god who lived down the street from her brownstone—aka, the NILF—was a no go, since that would involve her actually talking to the guy. Which she hadn’t been able to do so far. Hell, she hadn’t been able to make eye contact with those six-foot-two-inches of cast-iron smexitude, even though she’d walked by his open garage not once but easily fifty times in the past six months.
All of which meant she was striking out, the one weekend when she really, seriously, for once in her life needed to depend on someone other than—
“I think you’re concentrating too hard.” Erin Connelly lifted up on her tiptoes from behind the bar and pursed her lips at Anna, industriously toweling off pint glasses as if she actually knew what she was doing.
Anna scowled at her landlady, who most of the time she considered her good friend as well, then shifted her gaze down to the end of the bar where their mutual housemate, Dani, stood. Dani was the actual bartender at the Danny Mann pub tonight. Erin was only “helping out” so she could avoid her own work. “Shouldn’t you be painting something?”
“I’ll paint tomorrow.” Erin shrugged a petite shoulder. “Tonight I want to help you.” She tilted her head and peered at Anna, considering. “Not that I have any experience at this, but according to Dani, it’s just not that hard to pick up a guy.”
“Someone say my name?” Dani sauntered back to them and took the pint glass away from Erin, then set it up on a high shelf. “Erin, could you pour me three glasses of the Rosemont Chard? And Anna, chill. Guys aren’t that complicated.”
“When you look like you do, nothing’s complicated,” Anna grumbled. Dani seemed ready to argue the point when a customer raised a hand. She immediately changed direction to head back down to the far end of the bar. “I need that wine, too, Erin!” she called back over her shoulder, and Anna and Erin shared a smile. They’d both known Dani for almost a year, the long, lean brunette who was either half-Italian or half-Spanish or something in between. Dani herself didn’t know, and neither of her parents were around to clear up the matter. But either way, Dani was attractive in a way that got dates for the weekend. Or for the night. Or for twenty minutes in a dark hallway, if that’s what Dani wanted. Anna wasn’t that kind of attractive, and that’s all there was to it.
Tonight the reality of that fact stung a little more than usual. “You know what, forget it.” She picked up her notebook, flipping it shut decisively. “None of these stupid lines are going to work, and I never should have thought they would. I’m just going to have to suck it up and deal with Todd like a grown-up, while facing all of Kristen’s ridiculous fix-ups dead on.” She groaned, thinking of the pain heading her way, when her both her former college roommate and her ex realized that her perfectly perfect boyfriend of the past six months had been a perfectly fabricated lie. “God, this is going to suck.” She slumped against the bar, squaring the notebook at an exact perpendicular to the edge of the counter. “Why couldn’t I have said I dated a doctor or something? I could have blamed his absence on residency.”
“You don’t need a doctor,” Erin said, the smile in her voice causing Anna to look up. The bottle Erin hefted looked overlarge in her small hands. “You need, and I quote, ‘a stud sex god hot enough to set the sheets on fire.’ ”
Anna winced. “I know, don’t remind me—”
“No, no. You should have a stud sex god. You deserve one.” Erin was now carefully pouring wine into long-stemmed glasses. “Your friend shouldn’t be trying to fix you up anyway, if you don’t want to be fixed up, and your ex should just leave you alone already. It’s completely unreasonable that he thinks you’ll take him back again, when he broke up with you. I would have made up a fake boyfriend to avoid all of that, too.” She glanced back up at Anna. “I thought Lacey was going to set you up with someone from Dante’s band? That’d be perfect, wouldn’t it?”
Anna grimaced. Lacey had offered, and Anna had eagerly—almost desperately—accepted. Only, life didn’t work out that way for her. Never had, never would. “Yeah, well. They’re in England next weekend—special event one of the sponsors put together after the Dream It tour,” she said. “Nobody could break free.”
“Well, shoot.” Erin pursed her lips. “Okay, so … you just need to find a guy who’s man enough to convince your friends that you’re doing just fine without their help or intercession. But he can’t be too hot, I think.” Her smile flattened a little. “Based on the men we’ve used as models at school, most guys who are attractive are insufferable assholes.”
“Great. So I’m doomed.” Anna tapped her pen against the gleaming bar top. “This is all so stupid. And I’m stupid for not dealing with it already.” She wa
s a highly trained business consultant, for heaven’s sake. She routinely identified million-dollar liabilities and outlined their solutions in tidy little PowerPoint presentations that inspired firms to fork over piles of cash to her company just to make it all go away. Why couldn’t she make a slide deck to solve her own problems? “I should have taken care of this months ago.”
“You were busy,” Erin said, setting up the wineglasses on the edge of the bar just as a harried waitress appeared and scooped them onto her tray. “But you still have a whole week, right? I think you could take over Google in less than a week.”
“The takeover itself, sure.” Anna frowned down at her notebook again. “But the plans are what takes time. That’s what I’m missing here. I haven’t planned any of this.” She chewed on her lower lip. “I just need to figure it all out.”
In front of her, Erin shifted. “Oh! Well, I’ve got to go do something, um—on the other side of the bar.” Her voice was brighter now, encouraging, and Anna nodded absently even as Erin kept talking. “So you just keep working on those lines you’ve written out for, say, the next thirty seconds or so, and I think you’ll be good. Out loud, ideally. After all, you should get used to saying them like that, because that will really help. Saying them, that is. Out loud.”
“Fine, fine.” Anna waved Erin off and squared her shoulders, forcing herself into the zone as she let her eyes drift shut, her success mantras sounding over and over in her head. She could do this. She would do this. Mr. Fabulous would walk right into the bar, sit down, project his sexiness all over her like a million megawatt sunbeam, and everything would be absolutely amazing.
He had to show up. He would show up.
“Okay, then.” Anna’s fantasy was already taking place in her head as she closed her eyes even more tightly, focusing hard. She could almost smell the guy’s heady, masculine scent drift around her—not cologne, not aftershave. Just pure, perfect, manly guy, bathed in heat and spice and sunshine. And she would look over at him, smile seductively, and purr the perfect line.
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