She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him.

He looked back, and what he saw was a beautiful woman whose hair tumbled around a flushed face, and whose honey-brown eyes had a degree of warmth that symbolized a level of passion he rarely saw.

Enthralled, he held her gaze while his aroused body thickened with each breath he took, wanting more than anything to get naked and sink into the deep, luscious depths of her. He also had to deal with his tongue, the one that’d just spent an ample amount of time kissing her, renewing itself with her taste while imagining another taste he wanted to become familiar with. Her intimate taste. The thought of it made his sex surge and he knew she felt it when it did.

“You’re trying to seduce me,” she whispered as fragments of passion exploded bit by bit, inch by inch in his stomach from the sound of her voice. He was getting turned on even more seeing her lips move.

There was only one response he could give her, one of complete honesty. “Yes, I am trying to seduce you.” And then, helpless to do or say anything else at that moment, he lowered his head to kiss her again.

BRENDA JACKSON

is a die “heart” romantic who married her childhood sweetheart and still proudly wears the “going steady” ring he gave her when she was fifteen. Because she’s always believed in the power of love, Brenda’s stories always have happy endings. In her real-life love story, Brenda and her husband of thirty-eight years live in Jacksonville, Florida, and have two sons.

A New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than sixty romance titles, Brenda is retired from a major insurance company and now divides her time between family, writing and traveling with her husband, Gerald. You may write to Brenda at P.O. Box 28267, Jacksonville, Florida 32226, e-mail her at WriterBJackson@aol.com or visit her Web site at www.brendajackson.net.

Intimate Seduction

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

Brenda Jackson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To the love of my life, Gerald Jackson, Sr.

To everyone who enjoys reading about the Steeles.

This one is for you.

Dear Reader,

I knew when I introduced the Steele family that writing Donovan’s story would be a challenge. After all, he was the ultimate alpha man, who believed that love was not for him and that there was no woman who existed who could capture his heart.

Of course, I knew differently.

As Donovan watched his brothers and cousins marry, he was determined not to be included in that number. He was enjoying living the single life and didn’t see himself being tied down to any one woman. One of the reasons I enjoy writing romance stories is to show how a man like Donovan, who thinks he has it all figured out, can fall victim to love of the most intense kind.

I’m a true believer in love at first sight, but it’s hard to convert others. So I will continue to write those love stories where when someone least expects it, love can come knocking on their door…or, as in Donovan’s case, come sleeping in their bed.

And to answer all the e-mails I’ve received asking if Donovan’s story ends the Steele series, the answer is a resounding no. As in all families, there are other family members and I look forward to introducing you to more Steeles in the coming months.

I hope all of you enjoy reading Donovan and Natalie’s story.

Happy reading!

Brenda Jackson

Who can find a virtuous woman?

For her price is far above rubies.

—Proverbs 31:10

Contents

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 1

Donovan Steele opened the door to his home and walked inside with a huge smile on his face. Over the weekend in New Hampshire, his best friend from childhood, Bronson Scott, one of the most popular drivers for the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series, had placed in the top five.

Donovan was proud of Bronson’s success because Donovan, of all people, knew how hard his friend had worked to achieve it. Bronson was not only a skilled driver but was also a racer for the team he owned, Scott Motorsports. Donovan’s chest also swelled with pride at the fact that his family-owned business, the Steele Corporation, was a major sponsor of Scott Motorsports. That provided plenty of advertising for SC and offered Bronson the financial support he needed to pursue his lifelong dream.

Another reason for Donovan’s smile was that at the race he’d been among friends and had managed to unwind and not think about how busy the coming months would be for him back at the office. A new product under development at SC, the first in several years, had everyone excited; especially Donovan since he headed the Product Administration Division. But Gleeve-Ware, as it was called, had to be completed in time for the annual Product Trade Show being held in Toronto this November.

Instead of returning to Charlotte yesterday like he’d planned, he and a good friend from college, Uriel Lassiter, as well as two of his cousins from Phoenix—Galen and Tyson Steele—decided to stay an additional day to celebrate with Bronson and Myles Joseph, another good friend and a Scott Motorsports driver.

And then there had been Joanne Summerville, a racetrack groupie who’d come on to him after finding out about his close relationship to Bronson and the other drivers. Even now he could still picture her standing under the July sun in those skintight jeans and that sky-blue T-shirt that had stretched snugly across a pair of well-endowed breasts.

Joanne had been a looker, all right, and he regretted not taking her up on what she’d been offering. He hadn’t the time to squeeze in a short fling, no matter how tempting, and he could still see the sexy pout on her lips and the disappointment in her eyes when he’d turned her down. His only saving grace was that he figured he’d run into her again at a future race.

Donovan dropped his travel bag on the floor by the sofa instead of taking it upstairs to his bedroom. Due to an early flight out this morning, he’d missed breakfast and was hungry. He walked toward the kitchen, deciding that in desperate times even a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich sounded pretty good.

The moment Donovan walked into his kitchen he could tell his housekeeper had been there. Everything gleamed, from the stainless-steel appliances to the ceramic-tile floor. He appreciated the way she kept his house clean. He was a stickler when it came to neatness, but he also liked having a good time and had no desire to spend his weekends doing chores. He was too busy spending his time doing women.

It came as no surprise to those who knew him that he enjoyed and appreciated female company. There was no crime in that and at thirty-three, he enjoyed being single. He spent his time doing things he liked, which included a lot of traveling for pleasure, and refused to be tied down to a woman who’d have a hissy fit if he left her behind or one who felt entitled to accompany him.

He’d learned the hard way that women tended to get outright possessive. Alyson Greer had been such a creature, and even now he got cold chills remembering how she had resorted to stalking him. From that point on, he’d made a conscious effort to make sure any woman he became involved with knew the score.

There were simply too many beautiful ladies out there to get tied down to just one.

His three older brothers were wearing wedding bands and that was all well and good—for them. He was happy they had found wonderful women to fall in love with and marry. But he was not the marrying kind. He wasn’t even the serious relationship kind. Short-term affairs suited him just fine.

Besides women, his favorite pastime was auto racing. Not that he would ever get behind the wheel of a race car but he totally enjoyed being a spectator. He couldn’t describe the rush of adrenaline that flowed through his body while watching a race. Of course, sharing an orgasm with a woman was still number one in his book, but being at a race was a close second.

He reached to open his pantry when he noticed a pair of women’s sandals on the floor by the sliding glass door to his screened patio. Where had they come from and whom did they belong to?

Had the cleaning lady left her shoes? Was she still there?

He picked up the sandals to study their design. Sleek and snazzy. He’d only seen his housekeeper once or twice, and although she wasn’t a bad-looking older woman, he couldn’t imagine her wearing a pair of stylish and trendy shoes. But then he might be wrong. He couldn’t judge every fifty-something-year-old woman by his mother and his aunt’s taste in fashion.

He cocked his right brow, his curiosity piqued, and for the moment his hunger was placed on the back burner. He went back into his living room and then the dining room and glanced around, noticing that the rooms were neat as a pin, tidy as could be and well-dusted. That was enough evidence to indicate his housekeeper had been here.

On the main level, he also had a guest bedroom and a spacious bath, with the master suite and his office and another bathroom upstairs. If and when he felt inclined to invite a woman to stay for the night, the downstairs guest room was where they would sleep. He considered it his entertainment room. At one time he’d installed mirrors in the ceiling over the bed until his nephew Marcus—who would come spend the night on occasion—got old enough to question why they were there.

The master bedroom was off-limits. He considered it his personal domain. No woman could lay claim to ever sleeping in what he considered his real bed. A number of them had tried, considered it a challenge, their ultimate goal. But so far none had ever made it up those stairs.

After checking the other rooms, he made his way upstairs. It didn’t take him long to check the bathroom and his office before heading down the hall that led to his master suite. His bedroom door was closed, which wasn’t unusual, but what was unusual were the sensations he began feeling in the pit of his stomach, similar to the ones he felt when he was standing on the sidelines waiting for the race to begin.

He opened the door, and his eyes quickly circulated the room, stopping first on the vacuum cleaner that was still plugged into the wall and then on the feather duster that was sitting on his dresser.

He stepped into the room and held his breath when he saw a woman asleep in his bed.

What the hell?

Quickly, he crossed the floor to his bed and stared down at the sleeping woman. She was definitely not his regular cleaning lady. This woman looked to be in her early twenties and was absolutely, undeniably beautiful.

She was lying on her side but her face was angled in a way that showed an ample portion of it. What he saw flooded his gut with something he’d never felt before, a sensual attraction so hard, gripping and intense that he had to struggle to get air past his lungs.

Her skin, a beautiful chocolate-brown, looked soft, satiny and smooth. Her long eyelashes fanned her eyes, and in sleep she looked totally at peace. Her hair, a dark brown shade, flowed to her shoulders with bouncy-looking curls at the end. He had encountered beautiful women countless times but never before did one have such a gripping effect on his libido. And that very thought downright unnerved him.

Pulling in a deep breath, he inhaled, then took his time releasing it after deciding it was time to wake her. Although his first instinct was to remove his clothes and get into the bed with her. Instead of feeling his privacy violated by the woman in his bed, he was feeling something else altogether. Lust. Bone-chilling, gut-wrenching lust to a degree he’d never experienced before.

He tried tamping down the sensations by thinking that he definitely had a number of questions for her…but first he had to get her out of his bed. With that thought in mind, he reached out and gently touched her shoulder, trying to ignore the way his fingers trembled at the contact. He then watched as she slowly stretched her body before cuddling into another position without opening her eyes.

Tempted to see the rest of her, he slowly lifted the covers…His sex immediately got hard, pressed tight against the fly of his jeans as his gaze lit on her lush, shapely body. His eyes raked over her khaki shorts and cotton top, taking in her long, toned legs, small waist, curvy thighs and flat tummy. And then there was her scent. It assailed his senses the moment he lifted the covers, a totally feminine aroma that clutched him in blatant desire.

Thinking he’d better do something before he totally lost it, he dropped the covers back in place and gently shook her awake. His fingers trembled for a second time when they came in contact with her shoulder.

He stared down at her face as her eyes fluttered open, blinked a few times, widened and then stared back. The color of flowing honey, her eyes were a perfect match for her complexion. The woman was even more beautiful with her eyes wide open looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

He watched as she opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something but then changed her mind. Instead she moistened her top lip with the flick of her tongue before gnawing nervously on the bottom lip. He felt an immediate tightening in his stomach. An aura of sexual magnetism surrounded them, held them within its grip.

When he couldn’t handle the sensations any longer, or the torture of imagining all the things he would love doing to her tongue and lips, he spoke up. “I believe you’re sleeping in my bed, Goldilocks.”

Though her mind was working just fine, Natalie Ford was speechless and incapable of movement. When she’d opened her eyes, the last thing she expected was to drown in the depths of the most gorgeous pair of dark-brown eyes she’d ever seen. And the man’s features were so striking and breathtakingly handsome.

The sensations overpowering her midsection weren’t any better. Her response to him was instantaneous and so intense that, until he had reminded her, she’d forgotten that she had fallen asleep in his bed. His bed. How embarrassing!

The last thing she remembered was thinking she had finally cleaned every room in the house and had saved his bedroom for last. She was about to strip the bed for fresh linen when something about it beckoned her, invited her to lie down between the luxurious covers. That, combined with the little sleep she’d gotten the night before, had her putting her feather duster aside and sliding between the sheets. The moment her head touched the pillow she had breathed in Donovan Steele’s masculine scent. With all kinds of crazy fantasies playing around in her head, she had drifted off to sleep. Now she was wide awake and although she’d never met the man towering over her, she was certain he was Donovan Steele.

Her aunt had three clients who insisted that she handle their housekeeping personally—and were willing to pay extra for that request. Harrell Kelly, Jeremy Simpkins and Donovan Steele. Kelly and Simpkins were professional football players for the Carolina Panthers, and Steele was a successful businessman whose family was well-known in Charlotte. According to her aunt, the three men liked things done a particular way and were determined to protect their privacy. They were her aunt’s exclusive clients.

Until her aunt’s sidelining injury.

Natalie managed a smile hoping he had a sense of humor because she felt the situation needed it. Tossing the covers aside and pulling herself up into a sitting position, she said, “Break’s over. I need to finish this room, which means it’s time for me to get back to work.”

Thankfully, he stepped back as she eased off the bed. However, he crossed his arms over his chest, looked at her intently and asked, “Do you usually take breaks in other people’s beds?”

There was that voice again. Deep, throaty, husky. It was crazy, but she felt as though the sound touched her physically, in some of her most intimate places and in very provocative ways. She wished she could ignore both him and his question as she proceeded to strip the bed. Being handsome was one thing, being over-the-top, teeth-chillingly gorgeous was another. There was no way she could forget he was standing there. He was too overwhelmingly male.

Since she was filling in for her aunt who was home recovering from a broken ankle, this man was technically her employer, and she doubted Aunt Earline would appreciate losing him as a customer. She struck a businesslike tone and said, “No, I don’t usually take breaks in other people’s beds. That was the first. But then I’ve never seen a bed quite like yours before.”

And that was the truth. Although Donovan Steele was probably six-four, with broad shoulders, he wasn’t what she considered big. His bed, however, was huge. There was no doubt in her mind that four people could sleep comfortably in his bed. She could just imagine what a man—a very handsome one at that—did in a bed this size. Whatever he did, she doubted he did it alone.

“Before we get into an in-depth discussion about my bed, don’t you think you should at least tell me who you are, since I know you aren’t my regular cleaning lady?”

Natalie stopped and glanced over at him. Not to do so would have been outright rude. The moment her gaze locked with his, she felt sensations she couldn’t ignore flood her stomach and her heart rate increased. It should be against the law for any man to look so unerringly masculine.

He had chocolate-brown eyes, a chiseled jaw and a sensual mouth on a creamy cocoa complexion. His hair was cut low and neatly trimmed around his head. A pencil-thin mustache on his upper lip gave him a sexy look. He was wearing a pair of jeans and T-shirt with huge letters that said “Forged of Steele.” His scent, the same one that had tempted her to cuddle even more between his sheets, surrounded them.

She inhaled deeply. “I’m Natalie Ford,” she said without extending her hand. The bundle of sheets she held to her chest made it impossible to do so anyway and she was glad. The thought of touching any part of him left her off balance.

“And I’m Donovan Steele.”

She nodded. “I figured as much. My aunt, Earline Darwin, is your regular cleaning lady. She broke her ankle last week, and I’m filling in while she recuperates. She tried reaching you last week, and when she was unable to do so, she left a message on your answering machine letting you know what happened and that I would be her replacement for the next six weeks.”

He kept his gaze fastened to hers as he said, “I left town early Friday morning, and I’m just returning today, so I didn’t get any of my messages.” He paused for a brief second before adding, “That’s mighty kind of you to fill in for your aunt. Will she be okay?”

Natalie was surprised he cared enough to inquire. “Yes, her ankle will be fine as long as she remains off of it for a while. Thanks for asking.”

He leaned against the dresser. “Now I have something else to ask. Would you like to explain why you were in my bed?”

She met his dark eyes. “Like I told you, I’ve never seen a bed like yours before and couldn’t help wondering if it was as soft and comfortable as it looked. Once I sat down on it and saw that it was, I was tempted to slip between the covers, and I must have dozed off. I apologize for doing so. It was very unprofessional of me, and it won’t happen again.”

A look she couldn’t define quickly flashed across his face, and she had a feeling he wasn’t accepting her apology easily. He continued to look at her for a long time with an intensity that made her throat tighten. But then she felt something else with his stare. Direct heat. And it was getting hotter by the second. She tried to recall when, if ever, a man affected her this way.

“I accept your apology, Natalie Ford.”

Natalie blinked, realizing he had spoken. “Thank you, and like I said, it won’t happen again.”

A slow, sexy smile touched the corners of his mouth. “I think that it will. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

It took Natalie a few seconds to recover from the impact of his smile to catch his meaning. When she did, she tilted her head, looked at him and fought the power of his sexuality and the way her body was responding to it. She could tell by the look in his eyes, that deep concentrated stare, that he’d honed in on it too. So, okay, there was chemistry between them. She refused to see it as a big deal. The man evidently was a flirt. “I wouldn’t if I were you, or you’ll be disappointed,” she decided to say.

He lifted his shoulder in a nonchalant shrug at the same time that he shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I won’t be.” An assured smile touched his lips.

For a few timeless moments, their gazes held in a clash of wills. Now she understood Aunt Earline’s warning about him. According to her aunt, the man was a bachelor who had quite a reputation with the ladies. Apparently when it came to what he perceived as an available woman, Donovan Steele believed in equal opportunity regardless of sex, religion, race, national origin or occupation, since for all he knew she was no more than someone who cleaned houses for a living. Definitely not the kind of woman a man of his wealth and stature would mess around with.

It then occurred to her that, yes, a cleaning woman would be just the type of woman a man like him would probably mess around with. Discreetly. Not someone he would get serious about and take home to meet his upscale family. He’d be surprised to learn that she had a Ph.D. in chemical engineering and was a professor at Princeton University.

“So, when can I take you out?”

Donovan’s question intruded into her thoughts. She studied his face and saw the confidence in the dark eyes staring back at her. No doubt because of the women he’d dealt with in the past, he was pretty sure of himself. He probably figured she was an easy lay and with a few sweet words her legs would part like the Red Sea. Boy, was he wrong.

“I won’t be going out with you, Mr. Steele.”

He smiled. “Feel free to call me Donovan, and is there a reason why?”

There were several reasons she could give him, with his blatant arrogance heading the list. “The reason I won’t go out with you is because I work for you, and I’ve learned that mixing business with pleasure isn’t a good idea.”

That response, she thought, sounded more politically correct than what she’d actually wanted to say. “And in addition to that, I’m taking a hiatus from dating for a while,” she tacked on for size.

He tilted his head at an angle that made his stare even more penetrating. And then he did something she hadn’t counted on him doing. He chuckled. But it wasn’t just any old chuckle. It had both a seductive as well as a challenging sound to it. It immediately set her on edge and alerted her to the fact that he didn’t consider what she’d just said as obstacles.

He verified her assumptions by saying. “Your aunt works for me. You’re working for your aunt. It’s not the same. And the only possible reason that I can think of as to why such a beautiful woman like you would want to take a break from dating is because you’ve dated the wrong men. You’re now looking into the face of the right one.”

Natalie wasn’t sure he was the right one, but he certainly was a determined one. Deciding not to waste her time arguing with him, she tightened the bundle of linen she held to her chest and slowly backed up. “I’d better put these in the washer. I’ll be back later to put fresh sheets on the bed.” She quickly moved to the door.

“Natalie?”

Calling her by her first name was a liberty she hadn’t given him but was one he was arrogantly taking anyway. She slowly turned around and once again saw him looking at her. “Yes?”

“Considering the attraction between us, I feel I should give you fair warning that I’m a man who goes after what I want and won’t stop until I get it.”

She lifted her chin and looked at him while trying to ignore the surge of desire that stirred low in her stomach. There was no way she could deny an attraction existed since the chemistry between them was so blatantly obvious. She of all people understood chemistry and just how reactive it could be.

“Thanks for the warning, Mr. Steele.” And then she swiftly walked out of the room.

Donovan rubbed a hand down his face, trying to get a grip. What the hell was wrong with him? To say he was attracted to his temporary housekeeper would be an understatement. Even now he could still feel the heat that had ripped through him when her eyes had opened and latched onto his. And he’d been aroused ever since. Totally, irrevocably aroused.

He pushed away from the dresser he’d been leaning against and pulled in a deep breath. He wasn’t a man who pounced on a woman so quickly after meeting her, no matter how good she looked. Usually, when it came to pursuing a member of the opposite sex, he was known to be patient, allowing time for nature to take its course since he was fairly certain how things would eventually end. On the rare occasion when he had to shift things in his favor, he would utilize the art of seduction.

He wondered what approach he would have to take in this situation. For some reason being patient with Natalie Ford just didn’t work well with him. He was a goner the moment he had checked out her legs. If he thought they were nice-looking lying down, then they were definitely gorgeous standing up. Most men were inclined to favor a woman’s breasts or her backside, but Donovan was definitely a leg man.

He had to admit, though, that her breasts and backside were definitely pleasing to the eyes, as well. He’d gotten a good glimpse of the swell of her breasts through her blouse before she clutched his bed linens to her chest as if they were some kind of shield. And when she had skedaddled out of the room, the way the material of her shorts had stretched across her shapely behind had sent intense heat flaring through him. Just thinking about all her make-a-man-hard body parts fueled his lust.

And he knew women well enough to know she was as interested in him as he was in her. Reading a woman had always been easy for him no matter how coy they tried to be. The courtship game was a phenomenon he’d never gotten right and had never really cared if he did or not. He’d discovered that getting it wrong had never hurt his cause since he usually got whatever it was he was after anyway.

There was something about Natalie Ford that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She had an air of decorum and sophistication that didn’t quite mesh with the job she was doing. She had tried using the don’t-date-the-employer defense on him, but it hadn’t worked because like he’d told her, technically she was not his employee. He would admit that at SC he’d personally instituted a rule about fraternizing with the hired help, a course of action he’d been forced to implement after a number of female employees targeted him as the Steele man to get.

He glanced at his watch. From the look of his home, she was about to wrap things up and would probably be leaving in the next half hour. She had said her aunt would be recuperating for six weeks, and he intended to make sure Natalie didn’t try doing a switcheroo on him with another housekeeper.

Just that quick his mind was made up. Natalie Ford was someone he intended to seduce.

Chapter 2

Fighting back a nervous shiver, Natalie quickly moved down the stairs in her haste to get to the laundry room. Her senses felt out of control. Overworked. And all because of one man. She was used to sparring with her students, but sparring with Donovan Steele had rattled her brain.

She should not have been tempted to lie down in Donovan Steele’s bed, but her aunt had indicated he rarely made an appearance during the day due to his work schedule. Natalie had erroneously assumed she would be long gone before he got home. How was she to know the man had gone away for the weekend and would come home unexpectedly?

He had found her in his bed, and now the man had all kinds of crazy ideas. Did he really expect her to go out with him? And what she’d told him about taking a hiatus from dating had been the truth. She was yet to meet a man who wasn’t threatened by all her successful academic achievements. She had graduated from high school at sixteen and had gotten her doctorate at twenty-one. Thanks to the head of the chemistry department, there had been a job waiting for her when she had graduated.

Although she loved her job, this year things had been rather challenging, trying to teach while providing assistance on a special project for NASA. The university had been glad to loan her expertise to the government but hadn’t felt the need to reduce her classes.

Her thoughts shifted back to Donovan Steele, and she couldn’t help but make a face. Doing so was childish at best, but at least for the moment it made her forget she was a woman who was very much attracted to him. She fought back a groan. Why her of all people? And why him?

And why did she have a weakness for men in jeans? Especially a man who wore a pair like they were tailor-made just for his body. Firm thighs, lean hips, tight abs. And then there had been those muscles beneath his T-shirt. Although she hadn’t wanted to, she had checked him out. Donovan Steele was well-equipped in all the right places.

She wasn’t particularly pleased she had noticed that. In fact she wasn’t at all pleased that he had made her fully aware of him as a man. She had done a good job over the past few years concentrating on other things besides men. Men, more often than not, were a nuisance, and she’d found it better to go through life trying to forget they even existed.

She glanced down at her watch. It was almost noon, and she had one more home to clean that day. Deciding she needed to finish up and leave as soon as she could, Natalie loaded the washer and was about to put in the detergent and fabric softener when she heard the refrigerator open and close. She didn’t have to look around to know Donovan Steele had come downstairs and was in the kitchen.

After closing the lid on the washer, she braced herself before turning around. He was there, looking good in his jeans and watching her—checking her out. And not trying to hide the fact that he was doing so.

“Is anything wrong, Mr. Steele?” She fought to keep her voice even although her stomach churned something awful. And to make matters worse, she was finding it hard to breathe.

With his legs crossed at the ankles he was leaning against a kitchen counter, staring at her and looking as relaxed as any man should be. She wished she could feel as comfortable as he seemed to be.

“No, there’s nothing wrong,” he finally said smoothly as he popped the cap off a beer bottle. “So, where have you been hiding, Natalie Ford?”

She raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

“I asked where you’ve been hiding. I’m surprised our paths never crossed before.”

Natalie couldn’t help but inwardly smile at the absurdity of that. Did the man actually think he should know every single female in Charlotte? Evidently he did. “I doubt we run in the same circles, Mr. Steele. Besides, Charlotte isn’t a small town.”

She thought about telling him where she lived and exactly what she did for a living and changed her mind after recalling other men’s attitudes once she shared it with them. She was immediately labeled a mad scientist or chemistry geek. Better to let him assume she cleaned houses for a living.

“How old are you?”

Instead of responding, she asked, “How old do you think I am?”

His eyes scanned her face, as if to study her features. Her body warmed when his gaze dropped to her chest and began studying the V of her blouse like the size or shape of her breasts beneath the cotton material would tell him anything. Her throat grew tight, and she felt a hot sensation in the lower part of her stomach. And then, of all things, she felt her nipples harden against her blouse.

“So, what do you think?” she asked in an attempt to direct his gaze back to her face. It was slow in coming, and the smile that touched his lips made her wish she hadn’t asked the question since she knew he would read it wrong.

“I personally think they’re a nice pair.”

She frowned, not believing he’d actually said that. “I was referring to my age, Mr. Steele.”

“Donovan,” he inserted quickly.

Ignoring his comment, she said, “You were supposed to guess my age.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right.” A wry smile touched his lips, but not at all apologetic. He studied her face again, and she could feel herself blush under his intense scrutiny.

“I’d say around twenty-two or twenty-three.”

Natalie wondered if he was being truthful or just trying to be nice. Either way she was truly flattered. “I’m twenty-six.”

He took another sip of his beer, and the surprise in his eyes was genuine. “You definitely don’t look it.”

“Thanks, and how old are you?”

“Thirty-three.”

And a very handsome and well-built thirty-three at that, she thought. His sensual chemistry mixed with a hefty dose of raw sexuality, and she was being affected by all that virility. Dragging in a deep breath, she said, “I need to finish everything upstairs and get out of your way.”

A disarming smile touched his lips. “You aren’t in my way.”

But he was in hers, and if she didn’t remove herself from his presence she would continue to think about indulging in things she shouldn’t. Not only was he challenging her mentally, but he was doing physical things to her—things that no man had ever done before, without a touch, caress…or kiss.

At that moment she felt her lips tingle, and she felt butterflies in her stomach. She glanced at her watch. “I need to wrap things up here to be at my next client’s home before two,” she said.

“No problem. I’ll let you get back to work, but first I need to ask you something.”

She stepped into the kitchen and slipped her sandals on her feet. He was watching her every move, staring down at her feet. Then his eyes moved up her legs before finally meeting her gaze again. She slowly arched a brow in response. He had already asked her out, and she had turned him down. She wondered what he had to ask her now. “Ask me what?”

He took another sip of his beer. “I’m sure your aunt explained to you that I’m a man who appreciates my privacy, which is why I want personalized service from the cleaning agency. I don’t want just anybody cleaning my home.”

She lifted a brow. “Are you saying that you have a problem with me being here?”

“No. You’ve explained why you’re here. You’ve also indicated your aunt won’t be able to do any chores for about six weeks.”

She looked at him, wondering where he was going with this. She folded her arms across her chest. “Yes, that’s what I said.”

“In that case I hope you can understand I expect you to be the one—the only one—to handle things here. It would greatly upset me to discover some other person has access to my home.”

She frowned. “We have a number of good employees who—”

“Won’t be coming here,” he said firmly. “Your aunt understood when I hired her agency that I had a problem with a lot of strangers having access to my home, which is why she took on the job herself. Now that she’s not capable of doing it, either you take care of things or no one at all.”

She tried to keep her frown from deepening. He was trying to be difficult. If her aunt didn’t consider him such an important client she’d give him an ultimatum—either accept whatever one of the other Special Touch Housekeeping Agency’s employees she assigned to clean his condo or end his association with the agency.

Instead she said, “Fine.”

“And I want to increase my services to once a week instead of twice a month.”

She had to refrain from glaring at him. His request was ridiculous considering cleaning his home had been a piece of cake compared to the condo owned by Jeremy Simpkins.

He kept his eyes on hers, not for a single second looking away. “Will that be a problem?” he asked.

There was only one answer she could give him. “No, there won’t be a problem. Do you want to keep your Monday appointments?”

“Only if I’m your sole client for that day.” At her raised brow he clarified by saying, “Just in case you accidentally fall asleep again…in my bed.”

Her jaw was set firm when she replied, “Like I said, it won’t happen again.”

He smiled. “But in case it does.”

Natalie inwardly sighed. “It won’t.”

He nodded, lowered his voice and said, “Regardless. I want you to give this place your full attention. And if you can switch from Mondays to another day of the week. I would prefer it.”

“I’ll see what we can do,” she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.

“Thank you.”

“Now I’d like to ask you something,” Natalie said, fuming inside.

He waited a long moment before asking, “What do you want to ask me?” He took another sip of his beer.

“Do you normally hit on every woman who crosses your path?”

He gave her that seductive smile again. “Every woman? No. But I don’t have any qualms about hitting on a woman I’m interested in. Like I told you earlier, I believe in going after what I want so there’re some things I don’t beat around the bush about.”

“Apparently.” And without saying anything else, she moved past him to go back upstairs.

Donovan’s lips eased into a crooked smile. “Methinks the lady is just about ready to box my ears,” he muttered before finishing off the last of his beer and placing the empty bottle on the counter. Boxing his ears wouldn’t be so bad if he got to lock lips with her in the process.

While she was talking, his gaze had been fixed on her mouth. Never before had he seen a pair of lips so deliciously tempting. Just the thought of savoring them, licking them crazy, sent instantaneous heat flooding his insides. Being attracted to any woman was precisely the sort of thing he didn’t need right now.

The matters of SC, specifically the product under development, were enough to occupy his attention. The Steele Corporation had been working on Gleeve-Ware and had hired a renowned chemist, Juan Hairston, to create the formula for a highly durable and flexible tubing of silicone, rubber and fiberglass. In its final form Gleeve-Ware could revolutionize the manufacturing industry and push the transportation industry into the next century by the production of a durable, long-lasting tire.

The research, which had begun over a year ago and had been deemed top secret, had gotten unwanted attention when a rival manufacturing company had learned about Gleeve-Ware. They had gone so far as to try and obtain the formula. A high degree of security was in place since SC had decided not to take any chances.

He and his three brothers—Chance, Sebastian and Morgan—comprised the managing body of SC. Chance, at thirty-eight, was CEO. Sebastian, whom they fondly called Bas, was thirty-six and held the position of SC’s problem solver and troubleshooter. Morgan was thirty-four and headed research and development. His cousin Vanessa worked for the company as head of PR. The board of directors included, in addition to his parents, his aunt and his two cousins, Taylor and Cheyenne.

The Steele family was huge and close-knit. In addition to the Steeles living in Charlotte, there were a number of other Steeles spread out all over the country. They enjoyed getting together every two years for a family reunion.

When Donovan heard the vacuum cleaner start up, he decided to make the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich after all. He may have been overtaken by lust but in no way did he plan to starve over it.

He reached out to open the pantry at the exact moment his cell phone rang. Pulling it off his belt, he checked the ID screen and saw it was Kylie, his sister-in-law. He immediately clicked on the phone. “Tell me you’re calling to invite me to dinner.” Kylie loved to cook.

She chuckled. “You don’t need an invitation to dinner, Donovan. You know you’re always welcome. That’s not the reason I called. I need a favor.”

He smiled. “Anything for a slice of your apple pie.”

“Um, I wasn’t going to bake a pie tonight, but I’m sure that can be arranged.”

“Okay, then, what’s the favor?”

“My assistant has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, and there’s this huge delivery I need to take over to the hotel and arrange for a business meeting on Wednesday morning. Any other time I would close down the shop while I’m gone, but one of my suppliers needs to deliver some more vases in the afternoon. Chance is picking up the baby when he gets off work, so I don’t want to bother him about coming here and covering for me, especially with Alden. You and I know my son’s a handful. Since you have to pass here on your way to the Racetrack Café, I wondered if you’d be willing to make a pit stop here and hold down the fort for about an hour or so?”

He’d done so before, last year when she’d been in a crisis. “Hey, that’s no problem. What time do you need me there?”

Everyone in the family knew he arrived to work at six in the morning and left at three o’clock, unless some sort of emergency came up. He worked hard but liked playing even harder. The Racetrack Café was jointly owned by several drivers on the NASCAR circuit, including Bronson. It was a popular bar and grill in town and one of his favorite places to eat and hang out. It was customary for him to drop by there every day after work before heading home.

“Around three-thirty.”

“I’ll be there,” he said, already tasting her mouthwatering apple pie.

“Thanks, Donovan, you’re a jewel.”

“Of course I am. And before you hang up I need to place an order of flowers to be delivered tomorrow to my housekeeper. She’s recuperating from an ankle injury.”

“Sure. What’s her name?”

“Earline Darwin. Hold on while I get her address right quick.”

“No need. I’ve delivered several flowers to her already. Evidently she’s a well-liked lady. I’ll make sure these get out tomorrow,” Kylie promised.

“I’d appreciate it, and will see you tomorrow.”

He smiled thinking his brothers had struck gold with his sisters-in-law. Kylie was extra special because not only did she cook mostly every day—and he knew he could drop in for a free meal—but she had made his oldest brother an extremely happy man. The family had all but given up on Chance, who had lost his first wife to cancer and had remained single after Cyndi’s death for more than seven years. But he and Kylie had gotten together, had married and now—in addition to Chance’s son, Marcus, who was away at college and Kylie’s daughter, Tiffany, who had graduated from high school a couple months ago and was currently traveling out of the country with her grandparents—they had Alden, their active two-year-old son. Like most kids his age, Alden kept his parents on their toes. Nowadays, there was never a dull moment at Chance and Kylie’s house.

Donovan finally noticed the vacuum cleaner was no longer running when he heard the sound of Natalie’s footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder. She stood in the middle of the kitchen with her purse slung over her shoulder, ready to go.

“I’ll be leaving now, Mr. Steele,” she said in a very professional tone.

He turned to her and smiled. “I’m Donovan. Say it.”

He saw the frown that lit her eyes. “I think it’s best to keep things strictly business between us, Mr. Steele.”

If she was trying to grate on his last nerve, he would not let her. Her attitude only made him even more determined to one day hear his first name flow passionately from her lips. “Okay, but business or otherwise you can still call me Donovan.”

“I prefer not.”

He moved away from the pantry to come and stand directly in front of her. “Then I plan on working hard to change your mind, Natalie. And I will succeed.”

Natalie opened her mouth to give him a blistering retort, to tell him he would fall right on that nice-looking tush of his, but paused. If keeping her mouth shut meant retaining him as a customer for her aunt then she would overlook his arrogant attitude. Instead she said, “I’ll discuss your request for increased service with my aunt and determine the days that will work for us and for you.”

She turned and headed for the door, fully aware he was right on her heels. Before she reached her destination, he said, “I’ve thought about it, and I prefer Fridays if that day is available.”

She paused and then turned around. “I’ll check my aunt’s schedule, and I’ll get back with you later this week.” She knew her tone of voice suggested she wasn’t looking forward to doing so.

“Fine, and I’ll look forward to receiving your call. And here.”

She glanced down at the twenty-dollar bill he was holding out to her. “What’s that for?”

He chuckled. “It’s your tip. I usually leave it on the kitchen table for your aunt, but since you’re the one who cleaned up the place today, it’s yours.”

She backed up, refusing to take it. “That’s not necessary. We bill you monthly for your cleaning service.”

“I’m aware of that, but I believe in tipping, as well. Take it.”

She started to refuse it again but changed her mind. She wouldn’t keep it for herself but would pass it on to her aunt. “Thank you,” she said, taking the money from his hand.

Their fingers touched, and the main thing she hadn’t wanted to happen did. Sensual energy released in her body, rousing her senses. It had been bad enough to deal with the vibes that had been radiating between them. An actual touch was downright dangerous.

She tried ignoring the reaction and hoped he did, as well, since it wouldn’t get either of them anywhere. Unfortunately, she could interpret the look in his eyes. Whereas she intended to ignore it, he planned on doing no such thing. Not only was the man arrogant but he was a rebel as well.

She fixed him a chilly look. “Like I said earlier, I’ll get back with you later this week.”

“I look forward to your call.”

She just bet he did. Fighting back the temptation to say something smart, she turned—without saying another word to him—opened the door and left.

“How was your first day, Nat?”

Natalie smiled as she looked across the room into the questioning eyes of her aunt. When she’d gotten home after taking care of her last client for the day, she’d found Aunt Earline taking a nap. Natalie had taken the time to prepare something for dinner before her aunt had awakened. The doctors had said the medication for pain would make Aunt Earline sleep for long periods of time. And although Natalie regretted her aunt’s broken ankle, she of all people knew this forced period of rest was just what her aunt needed. She’d worked too hard all her life.

It had been her aunt who had taken on the responsibility of raising her as a newborn when Natalie’s mother, who’d gotten pregnant at eighteen, had taken a break from the fast life she was living out in California just long enough to give birth to her baby and leave it in the care of her only sister and her husband before taking off again. Over the years her mother had returned on occasion when her money got low, and she would threaten to take Natalie away unless they paid up.

Natalie had been in her teens when her uncle died of cancer but had been only ten when she’d seen her mother for the last time. That was the day Lorene Ford’s body was shipped back to Charlotte for her funeral. According to what the police had said when they’d called Aunt Earline from Los Angeles, Lorene’s boyfriend had stabbed her to death in a fit of jealous rage.

Last year her aunt, deciding she wanted to be her own boss, had given up her nine-to-five job as a secretary for the school system to start Special Touch Housekeeping Agency. Her aunt was working diligently to build a clientele looking for personalized homecare.

“Today was challenging only because I had to get familiar with the layout of each home and figure out the best way to utilize my time.” Natalie finally told her aunt. She saw no reason to inform her aunt that she had fallen asleep in Donovan Steele’s bed.

“Mr. Steele was out of town for the weekend and didn’t get your message.” She couldn’t help but smile when she added, “Needless to say, I was definitely a surprise to him.”

“I’m sure you were. He’s very particular about who cleans up his home. He likes protecting his privacy. I understand the woman from his last cleaning service tried coming on to him, and when he didn’t return her advances, she threatened to pass on information about him to the newspaper’s gossip column.”

Natalie lifted a brow, enlightened. No wonder he was such a hardnose about someone else coming in to clean his place. “He wants to move into a weekly slot. Preferably Fridays.”

When she set the cup of tea in front of her aunt, she noticed her frowning. “He wants cleaning service every week?” Aunt Earline asked.

“Yes.”

“Why? There’s not much to do on the days he’s paying us for now. He’s a rather clean man, not a slob like Simpkins.”

Natalie couldn’t agree more. Jeremy Simpkins was a slob, and what was sad was the fact he had a live-in fiancée, so to be fair Natalie wasn’t sure which of the two deserved the title. The house had been a complete mess. And it seemed that the two had had a fight the night before. Broken dishes had littered the kitchen floor when she’d arrived. From the looks of things, the argument had started during dinner and had been a doozy.

“Well, that’s what he wants,” she said, sliding into the chair opposite her aunt with her own cup of tea. It had always been a ritual for her aunt to enjoy a cup of herbal tea in the evening after dinner.

“Then we need to see how we can adjust our schedule to accommodate him. He was one of the first clients I took on, and through him, I got a lot of good referrals. Besides, he pays well and is a generous tipper.”

Natalie nodded at her aunt’s words. “He gave me a twenty-dollar tip, which I put in the emergency fund jar,” she said.

“You should have kept it. You earned it,” her aunt replied.

Natalie shook her head. “No big deal.” A smile then touched her lips. “He thinks I’m a regular employee with your cleaning service.”

Her aunt lifted a brow. “And you didn’t set him straight and inform him that you were a chemistry professor at Princeton University?”

Natalie shrugged. “I saw no reason to do that. He can think whatever he wants, as long as he pays for his cleaning service each month.”

She took a sip of her tea and, deciding to change the subject, said, “Farrah called while you were asleep. She and I are getting together Friday night and going out.”

Farrah Langley was her girlfriend from high school. While growing up they were thick as thieves, and they made a point to get together whenever Natalie returned to town. She was one of the few people Farrah had confided in when she’d suspected her ex-husband was cheating. And when her suspicions proved to be true, Natalie had been the one who’d provided Farrah with long-distance consolation and support during her divorce.

Aunt Earline smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. I feel bad about you leaving your job to come help me take care of my business. I promise to do everything I can to hurry up and get better.”

“And I don’t want you to worry about it, Aunt Earline. You need me and I’m here. I had a long talk with Eric last week about my coming here, and staying until you’re back on your feet makes perfect sense.”

Eric was Aunt Earline’s son, who was five years older than Natalie and employed with the State Department as a foreign service officer. He was currently living in Australia.

“Besides, I needed a break from the university anyway,” Natalie tacked on. “I did agree to be back in time to do that lecture at the start of the fall semester, and my department head was grateful for that.”

Her aunt took a sip of tea and then looked at her and asked, “So what do you think of Donovan Steele? Most of the time I’ve cleaned his place he’s at work. However, the few times I’ve seen him I found him to be quite a charmer.”

A charmer? That was the last thing she’d thought of him. And how did they get back on the topic of Donovan Steele anyway? She shrugged. “I guess some women would find him a charmer, but I was really too busy cleaning his home to take notice.”

At that moment the phone rang, and she was grateful for an excuse to get up from the table to escape a conversation about Donovan Steele.

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