Wickedly Hot

Ryan unbuttoned his shorts and dropped them to the floor.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered, reaching up to clutch her throat.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before, is it, Jade? Though you didn’t stick around long enough to really see how you affected me last night.”

She could see it now, though. Her whole face was flushed as she stared at him. All of him, including the erection he wasn’t trying to hide.

He’d always assumed he was a normally built man. But the shocked hunger in her eyes told him he’d caught her off guard.

“No, you’re right. I d-didn’t see you that well,” she stammered.

He just stood in front of her, completely naked. Uncaring, not bothering even to pretend to be self-conscious.

She looked as if she wanted to run. She looked as if she wanted to jump on him. She looked as if she needed someone to tell her what to do.

So he did.

“Take off your dress and get into the bed, Jade.”

Dear Reader,

I just love Southern cities. Though I was born in Virginia, I wasn’t really raised in the South. But I have always been intrigued by the rich culture, passion and romance of the region. One city in particular, Savannah, has always fascinated me. So when I decided to write a book about a sultry possible-thief, I couldn’t think of any better city to put her in than Savannah.

Jade’s not like a lot of my heroines. She’s more self-confident, and a lot more mysterious. But I really liked exploring her quirky love of history, her legacy and ancestry, not to mention her wicked sense of revenge, which would allow her to tie a naked man to a statue…and leave him there.

Hmm…enter naked man. Ryan Stoddard. Northern, conservative, professional. But since he also has vengeance on his mind, he’s more than up to the challenge of tackling Jade head-on. Handcuffs and all.

Hope you enjoy my atmospheric little visit to this lovely Southern city. I enjoyed it so much I think I’ll return there in the future. In person. And in my books.

Best wishes,

Leslie Kelly

Wickedly Hot

Leslie Kelly

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Karen and Lynn…thanks for helping me plot this one

while we floated in my pool last summer.

And to all the wonderful reviewers and Webmistresses

who help support this genre, particularly Barb Hoeter,

Barb Hicks, Carla Hosom, Blythe Barnhill, Kathy Boswell,

Catherine Witmer, Cynthia Penn and Diana Tidlund.

We couldn’t do this job without your

support and enthusiasm.

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

Epilogue

Prologue

LYNNETTE GRAYSON HAD finally found the perfect woman for her grandson Ryan and she was utterly determined to bring them together. Whether he liked it or not.

“Brunette, his favorite,” she murmured as she went over her checklist. “Intelligent, without question. Tall and slim, somewhat mysterious.” And, most of all, interesting.

Ryan was altogether too comfortable, too spoiled, too at ease in his Manhattan apartment with his equally bored friends. He lived for his job with a high-stakes architecture firm, dated far too many women and cared for none of them.

He needed someone to challenge him. “Someone to spice him up a bit,” Lynnette said, remembering the horridly cold creature Ryan had brought to dinner the last time his grandparents had come into the city.

Her grandson wasn’t cold. That big, cold city might have made him forget he came from exciting, passionate, fascinating people who loved quickly and loved forever. Herself included, she had to admit with a smile. She’d led her husband, Edward, on a merry chase before marrying him, but she’d known he was the one from the first time he’d held her hand.

“Women nowadays,” she said aloud with a disgusted sigh. “No mystery. No subtlety. No uniqueness.”

Except for her. Jade Maguire, the young woman from Savannah she’d met just last week.

Jade was exactly what Ryan needed. The perfect woman at the perfect moment. Ryan was thirty years old. It was high time for him to settle down, create a family. Her other grandchildren were all happily settled, having followed family tradition by falling madly in love with the right person as soon as they’d met them. She wouldn’t rest until the same thing happened to Ryan—the oldest and, though she’d never admit it aloud, her favorite.

Unfortunately, she had the feeling he would be a little stubborn about this.

She’d tried matchmaking before with, er, unfortunate results. This wasn’t the same. She wasn’t inviting him up for a weekend when she’d coincidentally invited a young woman she’d met at the bank. Nor was it like the time she’d hosted a dinner party, with Ryan and the granddaughter of a friend the only unattached people there. This wasn’t like the florist, or the schoolteacher, or that nice young girl who sold houses for a living. None of whom Ryan had found the least bit interesting, much less fallen madly in love with in record time.

No, this time she’d chosen wisely. Perfectly, as a matter of fact. An art lover, a historian, a fascinating young woman who’d built a business all on her own. Even her business was exciting, unique and mysterious, like its owner.

Jade Maguire ran one of those wonderfully spooky walking tour companies in the old Southern city of Savannah. Lynnette had never taken such a tour, but the adventurous part of her told her she’d probably love being scared out of her wits while standing on a darkened street late at night. Jade had told them a few fascinating, ghostly tales when she’d come to see Lynnette about the painting that used to hang above the fireplace.

“Imagine,” Lynnette murmured aloud, looking at the now-empty wall where the beautiful portrait of a young woman had hung. “We had stolen property.”

Lynnette’s great-great-grandfather had stolen the portrait from a plantation during the Civil War. Jade had produced positive proof—letters, a copy of a social column from an ancient newspaper, even a copy of the wrinkled, yellowed, hand-written bill of sale from the artist.

Jade had asked Lynnette and her husband to consider donating the painting to the Savannah Historical Society, either now or in the future. Lynnette had immediately agreed, not only because it was the right thing to do but also because she was already trying to figure out a way to get her grandson Ryan to go visit the painting in Savannah.

Not likely. He’d certainly never do it because she asked him to. He’d know something was up and would suspect a romantic fix-up.

So she had to be careful. Tricky. Never ever let Ryan know she was trying to bring him together with Jade Maguire.

“How?” she whispered, still staring at the empty place on the wall. And suddenly, as with most of her really good ideas, it simply popped into her head

She was smiling as she reached for the phone. Smiling as she dialed and listened to the ring. But when Ryan answered, she quickly mustered up a quivery, weak, old-lady voice and some tears. He wouldn’t be taken in by much. Her grandson had always, however, had a soft spot for a woman who cried.

“Ryan?”

“Grandmother, what’s wrong?”

“I need you,” she said. “You see, I’m afraid I’ve been swindled.” Crossing her fingers behind her back and sending up a promise to say an extra Act of Contrition the next time she went to mass, she proceeded directly to the biggest whopper of her life. “A dreadful con woman has stolen the painting my father left me.”

1

JADE MAGUIRE CIRCLED the ballroom of the historic old Medford House Inn and Museum, socializing with the Savannah elite, but never taking her eyes from her prey. He stood out, impossible to miss amongst the ladies in glittering gowns and the men in their pressed tuxedos. Though he’d made the concession of allowing the customary gardenia bloom to be tucked into his lapel, he no more resembled the spoiled, wealthy pillars of Southern society than Jade resembled a Barbie doll.

Though his elegant suit fit his tall, hard form with tailored precision, it was a dark navy instead of the de rigueur black. That only drew more attention to his already striking looks. His shoulders and chest were too brawny to be considered tasteful. His dark hair too long over his brow for most men of high standing. His eyes—which from a distance appeared light, a nice contrast against his hair—moved constantly over the crowd. Searching, hunting, seeking, though she didn’t know what.

His body shifted with an almost-disguised impatience that hinted at boredom. But every once in a while his gaze found her. And lingered. She always looked away, aware of the full force of his attention from across the crowded room. It was accompanied by masculine appreciation, which was good considering her plan. But it also unnerved her. It dug at her, prying into her life, silently looking for answers to unvoiced questions. Hinting that he wasn’t just a simple mark, an easy quarry for her scheme.

All in all, he was much too attractive for a miserable, loathsome creep.

“Ryan Stoddard,” she whispered, tasting the hated name on her lips for the dozenth time today.

“Have you met him?”

She immediately turned her attention to Tally Jackson, local matriarch and Jade’s godmother. Jade didn’t have to ask who she meant. Every woman here tonight had been giving the tall, dark stranger second looks. And third ones. “No.”

Tally flapped her fan, which matched her old-fashioned, hoop-skirted evening gown. She’d chosen to come in full costume, not mere formal wear, since she was representing the historical society at tonight’s gala. “But you want to.”

“Not particularly.”

The older woman gave a sound of disbelief too elegant to be called a snort, but not far from it. “Well, he certainly appears to want to meet you.” When Jade shrugged, Tally added, “Or just to want you.”

“Maybe he’s going to get his wish,” Jade murmured. “But only when it comes to meeting me.”

Tally smirked, obviously thinking the man could get around any woman’s defenses. Including Jade’s, which had been in place for quite some time now. “If you say so.”

Tally was a distant cousin—like many others in Savannah—and seemed to think she knew Jade as well as she knew herself. Maybe that was true. The older woman had, after all, helped shape the woman Jade had become. A fixture in her life since childhood, Tally had long cultivated Jade’s love for local history. Along with Jade’s mama, and great-aunt Lula Mae, Tally had told her endless stories that had enthralled and captivated her as a little girl. The three women had instilled in Jade a sense of belonging, of home, of pride, until Jade had come to understand that Savannah’s history was inextricably wound with her own.

This place defined her.

From her earliest childhood memories, Jade had felt the presence of generations of Dupré women who’d preceded her. She’d seen herself in every role—matriarch to mistress, slave to debutante. Like Savannah, the Dupré women were dark but graceful, sometimes ruthless but always elegant. Genteel but often boiling with emotion and passion.

When they loved, they loved hard, and usually only once. When they lost, they grieved but moved on. They seemed destined to never fill an emptiness inside that longed for a certain something out of reach—whether it was a way of life, or a loved one—but they found a way to live with it.

Jade had learned that lesson at a young age, too, when her father had died.

“Now, aren’t you glad you came?” Tally asked. “If only to see that lovely man? I don’t believe I’ve seen that look in your eye in a good year, young lady.”

“You’re imagining things.” Then, because she didn’t want to offend Tally, she added, “But yes, I’m glad I came.”

Tally was the one who’d talked Jade into coming to this party tonight. Thank heaven she had, given Stoddard’s presence. Normally Jade avoided such functions. But since she’d just helped arrange for the return of a long-lost sapphire necklace—which had been stolen from this plantation home during the Civil War—Jade had allowed Tally to persuade her.

“I wish you’d let me introduce you and reveal your help in getting the necklace donated.”

Jade immediately shook her head. “Not part of the deal. I don’t need recognition. You know that’s not why I do this. Mama likes the spotlight, I don’t.”

Her work provided satisfaction enough. Researching and tracking down historical items and persuading their present-day owners to return them to their rightful places—well, it was merely a hobby, but it fascinated her. Just as she was fascinated by these stately homes with their seething pasts.

Besides, seeing that necklace so proudly displayed here in the small museum was all the payoff she needed.

Tally harrumphed, knowing she’d lose the argument again. Then she glanced at Ryan Stoddard. “Shall I slip him your phone number so you can pretend you’re not making the first move?”

Jade tore her attention off the necklace—on loan here tonight before being moved to a larger local museum run by Tally’s society—and frowned at her overly romantic godmother. “Absolutely not. I can arrange my own introduction, thank you.”

“You need more than an introduction,” Tally said in disgust. “Darlin’, you need a shove into a naked man’s arms.”

Jade raised a brow. “I somehow don’t think I’m going to land in a naked man’s arms immediately after an introduction.”

Something like that might happen to Jenny, the flighty member of their family. But not Jade. Not the mysterious one.

Tally smiled, catlike. “Well, now, that depends on who does the introducin’.”

Tally had been looking for a love life for Jade for two years, ever since Jade had ended a relationship with a man she’d cared about but who’d never really understood her. He’d asked one too many times, Who wants to make a living telling ghost stories? Rick had never appreciated or respected the kind of life she’d chosen for herself.

Respect was important to Jade. Having come from a family who’d done without it a lot of the time, she was determined never to feel lower than anyone else. Any man in her life had to be one she respected in return. One who could match her in wits, challenge her in ideas, and keep her on her toes. He had to support her choices, no matter how crazy her life got. With her family, her life sometimes got really crazy.

And she had to love him beyond all reason.

So far, she hadn’t met such a man. She certainly wouldn’t here, tonight, with all the rich snobs looking down their noses at her—a member of that side of the famous local family.

“You never know what can happen at a first meeting,” Tally said, apparently not noticing Jade’s distraction.

“Actually I do,” Jade said. “Remember the handsome guy who came on the garden walking tour a few years ago, saying he was looking for movie locations?”

“The producer?”

“He wasn’t.”

“He whisked you off to his fabulous place on the beach.”

Jade crossed her arms. “Not his.”

Tally sounded a little less enthusiastic as she asked hopefully, “He drove that beautiful sports car?”

“Rented.”

“Well, darling, I hear this man,” she nodded toward the dark-haired, blue-suited stranger, “is exactly who he claims to be. A nationally known, wealthy, professional architect. So if at first you didn’t succeed…try again.”

“No.” Jade ignored the older woman’s hopeful look. “And don’t say a word to my mother about this. It’s not what you think.” She lifted her drink to her lips, murmuring, “It’s a private matter. One I need to clear up with him.”

“A matter of getting naked and between the sheets?”

Rolling her eyes, she ignored Tally’s salacious chuckle. “No. Now go mingle. Be sociable. Rule the world through your glove-covered iron fist. I think I see someone wearing cream-colored shoes with a taupe dress. Go skewer her with that sharp tongue of yours.”

Tally gave a delicate shiver. “Hideous. Money truly is wasted on the color-blind and those one generation out of the trailer park.”

Jade chuckled, knowing Tally herself was only two generations out of the trailer park.

The older woman’s eyes lit up, spying a wealthy older man who’d recently moved to town. Jade recognized the look. Tally was a fund-raiser supreme.

“Right on time,” Tally whispered, greeting the man with a languid little wave of her hand. “That’s Leonard something-or-other from Chicago. He’s here with his wife who wears altogether too much jewelry. I have to make nice with them before somebody tells her only tarts and carpetbaggers’ wives wear so much jewelry to an event like this.”

“Nobody here would say it—except you. Now be nice or I’ll warn your prey to hide his wallet.”

That reminded Jade of her own victim. She began to look around for Ryan Stoddard, target of her search-and-destroy mission. Searching hadn’t been tough—he’d certainly stood out. The destroying part might be more difficult. But he deserved it.

Anyone who broke the heart of her baby sister deserved destroying. He was just lucky Jade was only going to humiliate him, not castrate him like she’d prefer to do.

“There is one other person who could get away with saying such a thing,” Tally said, after probably trying to decide whether or not Jade had been paying her a compliment. “Your mama. I wish she hadn’t chosen this month to go on her cruise. I need her here.”

“It is her honeymoon,” Jade said, not bothering to keep a dry note from her voice.

“What’s one more honeymoon to your mama?”

That sentence, in a nutshell, could probably explain Jade’s entire life. They’d each had their own ways of dealing with Daddy’s death more than a dozen years ago. Jade had grown mature before her time. Jenny had settled firmly into her role of spoiled baby. And Mama had just kept getting married, hoping she’d find someone else to love as much as she’d loved Daddy.

A shrink would probably say their past explained why Jade felt so protective of her sister, Jenny. It had been the two of them, facing the zaniness of their world with a much-married mother and a scandalous family, for a long time. Though only five years older, Jade had become so used to mothering her sister that she sometimes forgot they were just siblings.

It incensed Jade to remember the tears on her sister’s cheeks. Jenny deserved some payback for what Ryan Stoddard had done to her. And Jade was going to see that she got it.

“Jade? Are you listening to me?”

She returned her attention to Tally. “Of course. But I have to say, this time I think Mama’s finally met her match. A man with money who doesn’t let her tell him what to do.”

Tally nodded. “I have high hopes, too. But I do miss her. I needed her tonight. I don’t suppose you…”

Jade narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not one of your society matrons. Most people in this room have no idea who I am, and I like it that way.”

Tally frowned. The argument was an old one.

“Besides,” Jade added, “if I want somebody to drop dead, I’ll tell them to drop dead. Not, ‘How delightful you look, sugah. Oh, I just love your hair. Why, it’s almost exactly the shade and style of my grandma’s French poodle.”’

Tally chuckled as Jade laid on a heavy Southern accent, which was nearly nonexistent in her everyday speech. “You’re rather good at that.”

“I don’t want to be,” Jade replied.

And she didn’t. No matter how much her mother and her cohorts had tried to teach her, Jade had never learned to enjoy being sweet while cutting, honest while evasive. She much preferred direct insults to veiled ones, outright lies to such intricate games.

Though, tonight she was setting herself up for a very intricate one, wasn’t she? The thought made her return her attention to the dark-haired stranger. She shivered a little. Intricate games, indeed.

“‘Bye, darling, have fun,” Tally said. Then she greeted the rich northerner with an air kiss and a gushing compliment on his clip-on tie, which Jade knew must be driving Tally mad.

Jade watched, then whispered, “Time to move.”

As she sipped her drink—ginger ale with a twist of lime, which would appear to most to be alcoholic—she scanned the crowd again. Even if she hadn’t been looking for the man when she’d shown up here tonight, she knew her eyes would have sought him out anyway. Just as any woman looked at something she desired but couldn’t have.

Only, Jade meant to have him.

Earlier, his blue suit had stood out in the sea of black tuxes and brightly colored gowns, but she didn’t spot him at first. Then finally she found him, leaning indolently against an arched doorway leading to another room.

Watching her.

He’d been watching her.

She flushed slightly. Darn. Caught off guard.

The man’s eyes met hers from across the room. Blue. Or green. Surrounded by lush lashes and topped by dark brows that were slightly raised as he caught her stare.

Then he smiled.

Her legs wobbled. Good lord, no man had made her legs wobble since she was twelve and her Cajun second cousin had visited from New Orleans. Stoddard was altogether too big. Too ruggedly handsome. Too powerful-looking to play games with.

Yet that’s exactly what Jade planned to do. Play games with him. And then leave him in the dirt.

But why is he here?

She didn’t mean why was he here in Savannah. She knew why—for a big architects’ convention, conveniently scheduled in her home city this year. The convention had saved her from traveling to New York to track him down.

But she’d expected him to stay at the hotel adjoining the convention center. Finding out from a friend at the hotel that he wasn’t registered there had been a shock. Even more of a shock had been learning he was staying here at the Medford House.

Ryan Stoddard had no business being in this secluded, exclusive little piece of Savannah society. No business at all. He should be sitting in a loud hotel bar with the sounds of tinkling glasses and businessmen comparing last year’s sales figures. Scoping out the women, flirting while they wondered how far they could go without technically cheating on their wives.

Not here, amid the husky laughter of bored millionaires and the scent of jasmine and magnolia that permeated the room from open French doors leading out to the lush grounds. Not in this place which many decades ago would have held tobacco planters and wounded veterans, as opposed to the bankers and stock brokers who comprised the elite set these days.

This was her turf. And damned if she wanted him on it. She’d planned to launch her attack on his ground, then slip away, back into the shadows of hers, where he’d never find her.

No way could she implement her original plan. A big chain hotel would have been simple—a pickup in a bar, a trip to his room, a heated encounter. Then walking out, laughter on her lips, leaving him naked and humiliated as he realized he’d been had. Realized he wasn’t going to get off scot-free for breaking the heart of a member of her family.

“Jenny,” she whispered, still missing her only sibling.

Her sister had gone off to try to be a star on the stage in New York City, against the family’s wishes and to Mama’s utmost horror. She’d landed on the stage, all right—a raised platform in a diner where she served chicken noodle soup and pastrami on rye between showstopping numbers.