by Girard, Dara
Wonderful? He thought she was wonderful? No man had ever said that to Monica.
To Venus? Yes. Always to Venus. As Venus she’d been called spectacular, exquisite, dazzling, gorgeous. Men had complimented her on everything from her eyes to her ankles. Adoration was a given, but after months living in this small town as Monica Dulane, not one man had complimented her or given her a second look, which was the way she wanted it to be.
JD had changed all that. Here was a man telling and showing her how wonderful he thought she was. Just the way she was. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his solid form against her until she felt the evidence of his desire and her own body grew warm and wet with wanting. Yes, she wanted him. She opened her mouth to receive him further inside and his moan of pleasure was all the encouragement she needed. Monica snaked an arm around his neck. “This is probably a mistake.”
“I don’t make mistakes, just calculated risks.”
“I’m a big risk.”
“I can take whatever you give me.”
Books by Dara Girard
Kimani Romance
Sparks
The Glass Slipper Project
Taming Mariella
Power Play
A Gentleman’s Offer
Body Chemisty
Round the Clock
Words of Seduction
Pages of Passion
Beneath the Covers
All I Want Is You
DARA GIRARD
fell in love with storytelling at an early age. Her romance writing career happened by chance when she discovered the power of a happy ending. She is an award-winning author whose novels are known for their sense of humor, interesting plot twists and witty dialogue.
When she’s not writing she enjoys spring mornings and autumn afternoons, French pastries, dancing to the latest hits and long drives.
Dara loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at [email protected] or P.O. Box 10345, Silver Spring, MD 20914.
ALL I WANT IS YOU
DARA GIRARD
To true friends
Dear Reader,
Have you ever wanted to be someone else? Ever wanted to live a different life and start all over again? Monica Dupree does. Once an international icon known as “Venus,” she now hides her captivating eyes behind sunglasses and her famous figure under baggy clothes. After the death of her husband, Monica has many secrets to hide. Secrets JD Rozan wants to uncover.
I found it intriguing delving into Monica’s life and the reasons why she wanted to change. As a writer, change is easy. With a few words I can change a sunny day to one filled with thunderclouds. I can add forty pounds to a character or make them as thin as a reed. But one thing I’ve learned in writing is that change always comes with a consequence.
And that’s what happens when Monica and JD indulge in a sexy fantasy. They learn that every choice has a price….
Enjoy,
Dara Girard
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Prologue
“She’s gone.”
The man behind the ornate desk didn’t move and for a moment Reginald Bower wasn’t sure he’d heard him. But that wasn’t uncommon. Anton Stevens was a hard man to read. The unrelenting African sun had polished his smooth, dark skin to onyx. His striking features were unmarked by any blemishes or wrinkles, making his exact age a mystery. He could range from early thirties to mid-fifties. His slender face sported clear rimless glasses, meticulously shaped eyebrows and a long jaw. He came across like a professor, but he was much more powerful than that. He stared at Reginald with an unsettling gaze, as if he’d heard a dull weather report.
Reginald hesitated then cleared his throat, a river of sweat sliding down his back. The two large standing fans that blew, making a light whirling sound in the otherwise quiet office, didn’t abate the stifling heat. He was still getting used to the stark climate change from Wisconsin weather to that of Ghana. At times he still couldn’t believe how much his life had changed, but that wasn’t the issue now. As the silence stretched on, Reginald resisted the urge to shift from one foot to the other. He had to stand still and firm and show no fear. He repeated the message just to make sure he had been heard. “She’s gone.”
“I heard you the first time,” Stevens said in a cool, clipped British accent that belied the fury in his gaze. “How did it happen?” He let his gaze fall and pushed a paper aside so that it was aligned with the edge of the desk. It was a casual motion that made Reginald’s anxiety grow. His boss was a man who liked order and didn’t take well to anything out of place.
Reginald racked his mind trying to think of all of the different ways he could have prevented her escape. The compound had interior security and an eight-foot iron gate. Beyond the gate they were still miles away from any city or town. How she’d been able to cross over fifty acres without being attacked by the wild animals that wandered onto the property, or consumed by the imminent threat of dehydration, confounded him. But he knew that if she was clever, she could feast on the lush grove of fruit trees. Reginald groaned. Perhaps he should have done another search before coming to Stevens, but it would have been a waste of time. He doubted she was out there, and he knew his second search wouldn’t have reassured his boss.
Reginald had had the security guards search the nearest village, but no one had seen her. And she would be hard to miss. A six-foot beauty with cascading dark hair, legendary hazel eyes and light caramel skin would stand out.
He’d been in security for ten years now, and working for Stevens had been the highlight of his career. He had more money than he’d ever seen before, and now one woman had put his job in jeopardy. When he found her again, he would make her pay.
Reginald cleared his throat again, knowing that Stevens was waiting for a response. His boss was patient and wouldn’t repeat himself. He was a dangerous man and Reginald knew it was best not to upset him, but he also knew there was no way to tell him the news without doing exactly that. How did it happen? God, he wished he knew. “Um…we’re still figuring that out.”
Stevens clasped his hands together. “I see.”
A drop of sweat slid down Reginald’s forehead, but he knew better than to wipe it away. “But we’re looking—”
Stevens held up his hand. “I only gave you one job, and that was to look after one of my favorite possessions.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you failed me.”
“Sir—”
“Since you have carelessly lost what was mine, how do you plan to get it back for me?”
“We’re on it right now, sir. We recently discovered that she’s no longer in the country, and we are certain she’ll hide with her family.”
Stevens shook his head. “Don’t be an idiot.” He held up his hand. “Forget I said that. Evidently you already are, since you’ve let a woman escape a hundred-room compound, twenty acres inside the gates, fifty acres of surrounding property and at least a hundred miles to the nearest village, where she can easily slip into Togo or the Ivory Coast. She has connections all over the world and speaks three languages. So the fact that you know she’s ‘out of the country’ means nothing to me. After her husband’s death, she only has
a sister living, and she wouldn’t be careless enough to go to her.”
“She’s not in Africa.”
“Really?”
“At least she won’t be for long. She’s going to the United States.”
Stevens raised his eyebrows with surprise and interest. “How do you know that?”
“One of the girls mentioned that she felt safe there.”
Stevens released a weary sigh and took out a small, red cloth. “You’ve put me in a very unfortunate position.” He took off his glasses and cleaned a lens. “If she talks or says anything about me, that would cause trouble.”
“I’m sure she won’t. If she talks about you, that would lead us to her. Don’t worry. We will find her.”
“I’m sure you’ll try.” Stevens sighed with disappointment. “Are you married?”
“Yes.”
“Children?”
“No, not yet.”
Stevens nodded and replaced his glasses. “Good. Family is important.” He gestured to the door. “You may go.”
“Thank you, sir.” Reginald turned, relieved that he’d gotten off easy. He began walking to the door but never made it. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Anton put his revolver aside, pleased that he’d hit his target with minimal mess. It was too bad. He’d liked Reginald.
Anton hit the intercom on his desk phone. “Send a bouquet of flowers to Reginald Bower’s widow. Then find Hicks. I have a job for him.”
Anton disconnected then clasped his hands together and counted to ten. He had to remain calm. He swirled his chair around to stare out at the lush landscape. Years ago he had purchased nearly one hundred acres and had spent most of his life transforming it into an oasis, or at least that was what it was to him. The wide assortment of tropical flowers and several types of palm trees provided a brilliant burst of colors and a wide assortment of intoxicating smells. From childhood he had always shown an interest in botany and had cultivated a love for gardening. Not that he did the gardening directly. He never dirtied himself. He preferred to leave that task to the gardeners and biologists he had hired over the years.
Unfortunately, all was not paradise. He had failed in getting the extra twenty-five acres he wanted from an eccentric elderly Norwegian woman, who refused to sell her portion of land to him. He wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted, but he was patient and knew that the frail woman wouldn’t last very long.
Twice he’d had his prized possessions take refuge on her property, all without her knowledge, but they’d been captured and punished. None had tried again—until Venus.
Anton watched a bright green-and-yellow lizard dart past and sighed. How could she do this to him? He’d given her everything—shelter, clothes, jewels, the finest wines in the world—and she’d treated him like this? Anton balled his hands into fists.
“You’re a little nobody and nothing!” his mother used to tell him, leaving him to the various nannies she hired while she and his father went to parties and traveled without him. But he’d shown her. Now he was a powerful man with women who adored him. No one would treat him like a nobody again. He wouldn’t let them. He deserved better treatment, and he’d get it. He wouldn’t let Venus upset him. She was just afraid. He hadn’t handled her right, but once he found her, he would do better next time. She belonged to him. Such beauty couldn’t be hidden for long. Someone would see her. His Venus would not escape him.
Anton stood then stopped when he spotted Reginald’s body on the floor. He’d completely forgotten about it. It was Venus’s fault for his actions. He knelt next to Reginald and pulled out his wallet. He flipped through it, stopping briefly at the picture of the man’s wife. The image surprised him. He didn’t know people still carried around photographs of loved ones anymore. Pity. He must have really loved her, but he doubted it would have lasted. Women were deceivers and heartbreakers; he’d done him a favor. He sighed then patted Reginald on the back. “So Venus is heading to the States. It seems you’re going to help me find my Venus after all.”
Chapter 1
On a clear summer afternoon, two intruders entered Monica Dupree’s life. She was forced to kill the first one, but she knew the second one was far more dangerous. She set her rifle on her shoulder, trying to portray a calm she didn’t feel. Her heart continued to hammer in her chest while the sound of the fired shot echoed in her ears. All around her was still, as though a photographer had captured the scene in a picture. The clearing in the woods suddenly felt too silent—no birds sang, no creatures scurried past, not even the wind dared to blow. Nothing moved. Her gaze fell on the lifeless dog that only seconds ago had been a snarling, vicious beast out for blood.
“Thank you,” a deep voice said, yanking her out of her thoughts.
Monica abruptly turned her attention to the man whose life she’d probably saved. He leaned against a tree with one arm held at an angle. Monica fought back a frown. She didn’t want his “thanks.” She didn’t want him here. She wanted him to be somewhere else far away from this town and this property. Solomon Island wasn’t really a complete island, but it was given the name because a large part of its eastern and southern land mass was separated from the main state of Georgia by a river. It boasted numerous independent farmlands, some working and others merely vanity, and its location near the water invited an influx of tourists, especially during the summer months.
For nearly a year Monica had thought of this land and farmhouse as her own. Her seventy-five-year-old landlady lived in town with a friend and had rented the entire property to her because she thought the house had gotten too big for her and she wanted someone to look after it. It was no longer a working farm, and it hadn’t been so in decades, but there was still plenty to manage. Monica had thought of it as her private sanctuary after her husband’s passing. A place of safety. The past ten months had been heavenly, her own Eden, and now a snake was in her midst.
No, that wasn’t fair, Monica quickly corrected herself. She hardly knew the man, but she’d planned to live there alone for the rest of her life. Unfortunately, Nadine Rozan, her landlady, had forced her to alter her plans. She’d said her grandson was coming to the farm for rest and relaxation. So she and her grandson would be sharing the large house for the next several weeks. Roommates. The last thing Monica wanted was a roommate, especially a male one.
Fortunately, the five-bedroom house was spacious enough that she probably would rarely see him. Besides, she spent most of her time in her studio or going for long walks. She didn’t need to worry. She was safe. Anton couldn’t find her. It had been eleven months, four days, eight hours, seven minutes and ten seconds since she’d escaped him. She’d been careful to make sure to leave her trail cold. She planned never to resurface to her old life.
Monica sighed. That still didn’t make having to deal with some overworked businessman any easier.
“You’re going to love him, dear,” Nadine had said a week earlier as the two women cleaned up one of the extra rooms. It was located directly across from Monica’s bedroom, but Nadine had insisted. “All the women do. They can’t help it. Once you see him, you’ll know why.”
Monica plastered on a grin to be polite. She knew that no matter how charming or handsome Nadine’s grandson was, he’d have no effect on her. She’d been around men like him all her life—handsome men, rich men, powerful men. She’d married one who was a combination of all three, and now she was alone. She was fine with that. Ready to be her own woman, something she’d never had a chance to be before.
“He won’t get in your way,” Nadine continued. “Just make sure he doesn’t work too much.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Monica said, in no mood to be stuck babysitting a grown man.
Nadine hesitated, sending Monica a scrutinizing gaze. “It wouldn’t hurt you to get a nice dress to meet him.”
“Why?” Monica said with a laugh. “Does he need a welcome committee?”
“A pretty face is always a nice welcome.”
/> “I’m not buying a brand-new dress or changing my hair or putting on makeup for anyone. I’m happy the way I am. There are plenty of women in town if he wants a summer fling.”
“But you shouldn’t hide yourself away the way you do,” Nadine said, unwilling to let the topic drop. “I’m sure you could be a pretty girl if you tried.”
“Maybe,” Monica said in a noncommittal tone. “Now let’s get his room in order.” Monica suppressed the urge to laugh. She’d never been called pretty before. She’d always been seen as something more. From the age of four, she remembered the looks and stares from strangers. The way her parents kept her close, as if afraid someone would steal her away.
“What an extraordinary child.”
“Have you ever seen such eyes, and that dark hair is gorgeous.”
“You could make millions on that face.”
“What an absolute beauty.”
“Go on, Venus, use that smile. Every woman will want to go out and buy this lipstick.”
“You’re a goddess, Venus! No man can resist.”
“Work it, Venus, work it!”
But those days were gone. Monica wasn’t a vision or an expression of someone else’s ideal anymore. She was just an ordinary woman, and that was a privilege she didn’t plan on giving up.
Monica quickly sized up the man in front of her. He met her expectations. He wore a tailored dark suit, as if he’d arrived at the Ritz-Carlton for a board meeting instead of a farmhouse for a holiday. He was tall. Few men were taller than she was, but he beat her by several inches. He carried himself well and had clean-cut features that were a little harsh but not off-putting, and sharp assessing eyes. His mouth was a problem, however. It was fuller than she’d imagined. His dark lashes and broad brows softened his features, hinting at both a vulnerability and gentleness she didn’t want to see.