He held his hand up to stop me. “I’ve decided to go with Waterbridge-Howser.” He glided from the window to me, occupying the small space between my seat and his enormous desk. He leaned back and sat on the edge, his crotch inches away from my heated face.
For a moment I forgot where I was or what I was even trying to accomplish. Wait, did he just say he wanted to work with Waterbridge-Howser? I realized my mouth had been hanging open, and I closed it with a snap. Adrenaline surged through my body. I had just closed a big account—this was massive.
“Sir?” I said, ignoring his position so as not to draw attention.
“Please, Kristen, it’s Vincent. I let it slide when you called me Mr. Sorenson earlier, but if you’re going to call me ‘sir’ then I’m going to address you as ‘madam’. Now let’s get back to business.”
Vincent Sorenson, eager to get back to business. The irony wasn’t lost on me, even in my dazed state.
“I can sign the paperwork today, but there’s one condition.” He paused. “You must be my point of contact. I’ll need a number to reach you at any point in the day.”
His dark pupils drew my gaze and I found myself unable to look away. I knew there’d be a catch. “Richard’s usually the one who works directly with clients and I’m not sure I have the authority to—”
His expression implacable, he waved his hand to swat away my excuses. “Get the authority. Your partner is insulting and unacceptable. You’re smart, ambitious, and not afraid to take risks. It’s either you or I walk away.”
I blushed at his compliments, although I wasn’t sure why he thought I wasn’t afraid of taking risks, but I had bigger issues to deal with. Even though this would be an enormous boost to my career, Richard would be offended if I agreed to Vincent’s condition. Not to mention the obvious: I’d be spending much more time alone with Vincent. I doubted his true motives, but there was no way I could turn down this opportunity. I’d just have to figure out how to handle the complications.
I released a deep breath. “You’re certainly very demanding, Vincent.”
“You have no idea how demanding I can be.” His eyes traveled up the exposed skin of my legs as if possessing me with his gaze. I crossed my legs to quell the uncomfortable sensation growing between them.
And there it is again, he can turn it on and off at will. Despite the edgy feeling of being this close to Vincent, I had to admire his ability to make anything sound sexual. If he was willing to sign with Waterbridge-Howser based on the misguided belief he’d get into my pants, I wasn’t about to stop him. I’d just have to keep him at arm’s length.
“Fine, I’ll be your point of contact,” I said, pulling out a business card from my satchel and handing it to him. “My information is on the card, you can reach me at the office during the day. My Blackberry number is available for emergencies as well.” I hoped the emphasis was taken.
“Good,” he said, pausing as though there was something else he wanted to add before gesturing towards my bag. “Do you have the paperwork?”
I handed him the contract.
“Thank you for deciding to go with us. I’m looking forward to working with you,” I said, holding my hand out. He took it and squeezed firmly, the heat of his palm sending tingles up my arm. I didn’t know if I was more excited about landing a huge client or Vincent’s touch.
Without moving from his position in front of me, he signed and dropped the papers on his desk, rather than returning them to me. “Now that we have the business out of the way, we can get to the pleasure.” The last word rolled off his tongue like a satin ribbon, sensuous and inviting.
“I’m sorry?” Heat coursed through my face.
“We didn’t finish our conversation at the bar.”
“I thought we were quite clear,” I said, mouth drying by the second. He wasn’t going to make this easy.
He shrugged. “You made it clear you didn’t like mixing business with pleasure, so I didn’t. The business is done, now it’s time for pleasure.”
Reviews for the Surrender Series (4.5 out of 5 stars on Amazon.com):
“I love the chemistry between Kristen and Vincent. They have this real quality to them, despite the extravagant dates they don't have a fairy tale quality to them. Vincent works hard as the CEO of his company, and Kristen proves her intelligence at her firm. With the exception of their world-wind romance, I was able to connect with these two and actually see a relationship with open communication, for the most part, and work put into it. But, then out come the secrets. Kristen has to be understanding, in a situation where she'd rather spit nails. And Vincent has to tread carefully, or risk losing her. Despite their troubles, I was jealous of these two for having such an abundance of fantastic sex. Seriously? Share with the rest of us please!”
- Emily McGee (Same Book Different Review Blog)
“I NEED THIS BOOK RIGHT NOW!”
-Anncleire (On GoodReads)
Forbidden Surrender (Book One) – Available Now!
Secret Surrender (Book Two) – Available Now!
Beautiful Surrender (Final Book) – Release Date: November 4th, 2013
Click the links above to meet the deliciously sexy Vincent Sorenson.
He’s waiting for you…
One Last Dance
by Angela Stephens
“One dance, that’s all I’m asking for.”
Dreams don’t come true. That’s one thing that Sophie Becker knows for certain. Sophie spent the first nineteen years of her life dedicated to her dream of becoming a dancer, but when an injury ends her career as a performer, she struggles to find an anchor.
Now, a few years later, Sophie has tried to move on by opening a dance studio in the heart of Manhattan. She thinks she can hide from her pain, but it’s impossible in the face of daily reminders of the opportunities she has lost.
One night, a mysterious stranger walks into her studio, threatening to tear down the facade she has worked so hard to build up. Henry Medina is the reclusive CEO of Medina Properties and has a troubled past of his own. Henry is cocky, handsome and all he wants is to dance with Sophie.
When a dance becomes more than just a dance, will Sophie be able to handle the intense emotions that he stirs up? Will Henry reignite the passion in Sophie’s heart and heal her soul or will he leave her more broken than she was when he found her?
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Chapter One
Sometimes, Sophie wished that she had never learned how to dance.
It was the sensual cadence of the tango that had first made Sophie fall in love. The sound of feet sliding on wood, the rhythmic scuff of soles and taps of heels, the controlled breathing of two people in such close proximity, leaning into each other, utterly dependent on their partners to make the dance work were all things that had once stirred Sophie’s heart. Even now, when the sound was a reminder of the ability she had lost, she was still drawn to it. Sometimes, it almost made her forget. But she could never forget. At just age twenty-five, her career as a dancer was already over.
Her fingers tightened on the handle of her black wood cane. She loathed the thing, would have thrown it into the nearest fire if Darren hadn’t insisted she use it. She refused to walk with it, absolutely refused, but she would acquiesce to her friend in this one instance: she would use the cane when teaching a class, if she wasn’t demonstrating steps, to take some of the weight off her left knee. Now, she used it to tap the beat out against the wood floor. At least it was good for that.
“You have to feel the music and let your body react!” she called to the class. “Listen to it! Don’t think!” She rapped the cane harder against the floor, watching as each pair moved in front of her in the harsh, sterile white light of the dance studio. This evening’s class was an intermediate one, so the dancers were familiar with the steps but not yet fluid in their movement.
“They’re not hop
eless,” Darren muttered in her ear. “Well,” he qualified, “not totally.”
Sophie bit back a smile. The classes at this level were reserved for people with a real interest. Of course, when faced with the harder lessons, their interest would often fade. Only a rare few found a real passion for the dance and went on to her advanced classes.
“Okay, stop!” she called, rapping the cane on the floor once, loudly. The couples froze. She scanned the room, doing her best to ignore the stream of people walking by on the sidewalk outside the large front windows. She still wasn’t quite used to the more than occasional gawkers who stopped to watch the dancers on the other side of the glass. Darren was the one who’d suggested the floor to ceiling windows along the front of the studio to gain the business some exposure. He’d been right. Not that all the classes they offered were booked full, but enough of them were that she was operating in the black, due in no small part to their walk-in clientele.
“Men, you have to make her feel confident in your support. If she doesn’t feel that the support is there, she won’t let you bear her. And ladies, you have to learn to let go. Follow your leader. Trust him.” The words sent a small lance of pain under her ribs, but Sophie ignored it. “Now, try it again.”
She watched them closely for the smallest misstep and found it quickly. “Wait, wait.” She waved her hand in exasperation. Once again, the dancers paused. She motioned Darren over.
“I can’t stress enough how important the embrace is,” Sophie said. Darren lifted his arms and she stepped into him but didn’t place her hands in his just yet. “Men, with your left hand you have to be doing your Shakespeare. Darren?”
He rolled his eyes at her but turned his left palm toward himself and intoned solemnly, “‘Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand.’” The sober expression cracked and a broad grin spread across his handsome face, his dirty blond hair tumbling over his dark green eyes. “I would be kid leather and cost a fortune!”
Sophie sighed, shaking her head at him. She loved her friend but his inability to remain serious for any length of time could be trying. “Thank you, Darren. Guys, you see how he’s holding his hand? Your palm should be facing you, wrist turned in. In order for this to be comfortable for your partner, you really have to hold her close. Keep that other hand on her back. Support her.”
Darren slid his right arm around her, his broad hand cupping her shoulder blade. Sophie glanced at the students, making sure they were observing. “You have to have some tension in your arms, guys. If you don’t, your partner won’t know where you’re going.” She nodded at Darren and he swayed just a little, showing how his motion was transferred to her through the frame of his hold.
“Ladies, you can’t be limp noodles either. Keep those muscles tight, but your wrist relaxed. Rest your arm along his, fingers on his shoulder. Let him draw you against his chest and brace you.” Sophie matched actions to words.
“Now, once you’re in his embrace, when he moves, you move. The two of you come together to make the dance. If you aren’t completely together, there is no dance. Watch.”
Sophie took a deep breath, gritting her teeth, and nodded to Darren again. He began to move slowly at first. She followed, stepping back as he stepped forward, twisting her hips, forcing her breath slowly in and out. Her body moved mechanically. Sophie knew these steps in her sleep, and Darren was a very competent partner, an accomplished dancer in his own right. They were comfortable with each other, which allowed her mind to focus entirely on her left knee. If it showed the slightest sign of buckling, even just a twinge, she would immediately halt the dance. The last thing she needed was to fall in front of her students.
Darren was pushing her today, tipping her off her axis in a series of complex volcados, leading her into a molinete. Her heart pumped a little harder, bringing a flush to her cheeks. There was a time when it would have been a flush of joy, anticipation. Now, it was just anxiety. The harder he pushed, the more likely her knee was to give out. Still, she reacted almost instinctively to his lead, kicking her leg up and sliding it around his thigh.
Her knee throbbed at the added weight. She froze, pulling out of Darren’s embrace with a small, fierce tug and turning back to the class. Her friend let go, but she didn’t miss his look of worry.
“You see,” she said to the class. “No matter what, the embrace must be strong. It’s the foundation of the dance. Ladies, lean down into your partner on the volcados. Not flat against him. He isn’t a brick wall.”
There were several soft chuckles in response. She stiffened her back as her leg gave another throb, praying her knee wouldn’t give way. Darren caught her eyes, winking, and a small bit of tension eased from her. “Okay, let’s start again. We’ll try it with the music this time.” She clicked her remote and the spicy beat of tango music filled the room.
Darren leaned down as she watched the couples begin moving together again. “Okay?”
“Just a twinge,” she muttered under her breath. She felt him turn his head and study her, but kept her eyes on the class, and Darren knew better than to push it.
***
After the class was over and people had dispersed back to their homes, Darren approached again. “You know when your knee goes like that, it’s okay to sit down.”
Sophie grimaced. “Obviously I made it through the class, so I didn’t need to sit,” she said. “They have to trust that I know what I’m doing. Nobody wants to learn to dance from a cripple.”
“Honey, you’re far from a cripple.”
She glared. Of course she wasn’t a cripple, but she wasn’t able to do everything she used to be able to do either, and for a dancer that was pretty close.
Darren sighed. “Just keep it in mind, Soph. I’m going to lock up. The dinner Wayne made is probably cold by now.”
Sophie laughed. “Noted. Must be nice, having a man cook for you. I think I’m going to do some stretches before I head home.”
“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As Darren headed for reception to lock the front doors, Sophie stood and crossed to the ballet bar. Gripping it in both small hands, she began some slow stretches, focusing on loosening up the tightness in her knee joint. With some difficulty, she lifted her leg onto the bar and bent over it, stretching her hamstring.
She heard the front door open and paused, listening for the sound of Darren’s voice. There was a low, polite sounding murmur—Darren greeting the walk-in—and then a deeper reply. Though she couldn’t hear her assistant’s words, she detected a note of awe and apology in his tone. The other voice, low and smoky, became more urgent. The sound seemed to settle against her skin like cashmere, luxurious and tantalizing.
Sophie lowered her leg and made her way carefully toward reception. Who could that voice belong to?
Chapter Two
The man talking to Darren looked like someone used to getting his way. He was tall, over six feet, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His hair was jet black, stylishly cut and thrown back from his wide forehead in beautiful waves. It framed a face that belonged on a bust in the classical wing of a museum, with its wide jaw, full, chiseled lips and a long nose with the slightest bump in the middle. In the last afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, his olive skin seemed burnished with an inner glow.
More than his appearance though, it was his demeanor that set Sophie’s heart beating quicker. His movements were slow and confident, those of a man who knew his place and his effect on others. He stood with his shoulders back but still fluid, not like a soldier so much as an athlete. A dancer, maybe. Sophie’s eyes travelled up from his expensive leather shoes to his tasteful grey slacks, cut slim to accentuate his long legs and perfectly shaped ass, and from there to his black button down shirt, unbuttoned near the top to show his impressive chest. Definitely not something he wore to work. Definitely sexy.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Darren said, “but the studio is closed for the night.”
The man’s heavy black brows ro
se a fraction of an inch, and he inclined his head slightly. “I don’t mind. I’ll wait.”
“But there’s nothing to wait for.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
Sophie stood in the doorway between the front classroom and reception, heart doing its own set of ochos in her chest. Her skin prickled all over with heat in a way it hadn’t in a long time, since Christian, maybe. But this man wasn’t like Christian. Christian had been handsome the way a model was handsome. He looked great, but the real thing was about as good as a picture. This man’s confidence seemed to indicate that he could make money without relying on his looks, although he was definitely gorgeous.
He looked at his watch, an impressive silver piece that looked expensive. Sophie guessed it was an Omega. She watched the way his shirt slid over his chest as he moved his arm back down to his side. It fit his impressive physique snugly. She wanted to run her hands over it, though she wasn’t entirely sure if it was because of the look of the fabric, or the man. What did this gorgeous stranger want with her little dance studio?
“There was a woman teaching the last class. Blonde hair in a ponytail. I would like to speak with her,” the stranger said.
Darren gave a soft sigh. “Ms. Becker has gone home for the—”
Whatever this man wanted, he really wanted it, and it was worth finding out what it was. Sophie decided to step in before this dark stranger physically moved Darren aside. “That’s okay, Darren,” she cut in. “You can lock up. We’ll be fine here.”
Darren’s blond brows rose sharply. He cut a look at the man, eyeing his tall form, and then looked back to her. Sophie bit back a snort, amusement at her friend mixing with the attraction she held in her chest.
She gave him a slight nod. Darren studied her face a moment longer and then shrugged. She turned back to the stranger, surprised to find that he’d wandered into the classroom.
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