She needs to kiss him...

before he figures out who she is!

Reid Singleton just had the best sex ever. When the brown-eyed bombshell turns out to be Drew Fleming—his best friend’s sister all grown-up—Reid can’t decide if he’s furious at her ruse or ready for round two! Drew is determined to tame this stubborn bachelor. But she isn’t the only person from Reid’s past who will change his future...

A former job-hopper, JESSICA LEMMON resides in Ohio with her husband and rescue dog. She holds a degree in graphic design currently gathering dust in an impressive frame. When she’s not writing supersexy heroes, she can be found cooking, drawing, drinking coffee (okay, wine) and eating potato chips. She firmly believes God gifts us with talents for a purpose, and with His help, you can create the life you want.

Jessica is a social media junkie who loves to hear from readers. You can learn more at jessicalemmon.com.

Also by Jessica Lemmon

Lone Star Lovers

A Snowbound Scandal

A Christmas Proposition

Best Friends, Secret Lovers

Temporary to Tempted

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

One Night, White Lies

Jessica Lemmon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09248-7

ONE NIGHT, WHITE LIES

© 2019 Jessica Lemmon

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Note to Readers

This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:

 Change of font size and line height

 Change of background and font colours

 Change of font

 Change justification

 Text to speech

For Aunt Beth.

Your passion for creating a life you love

continues to inspire me to do the same.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

About the Publisher

One

London-born Reid Singleton didn’t know a damn thing about women’s shoes. So when he became transfixed by a pair on the dance floor, fashion wasn’t his dominating thought.

They were pink, but somehow also metallic, with long Grecian-style straps crisscrossing delicate, gorgeous ankles. He curled his scotch to his chest and backed into the shadows, content to watch the woman who owned those ankles for a bit.

Reid might not know women’s brands or styles, but he knew women. He’d seen quite a lot of women in high heels and short skirts, but he couldn’t recall one who’d snagged his attention this thoroughly.

From those pinkish metallic spikes, the picture only improved. He followed the straps to perfectly rounded calves and the outline of tantalizing thighs lost in a skirt that moved when she did. The cream-colored skirt led to a sparkling gold top. Her shoulders were slight, the swells of her breasts snagging his attention for a beat, and her hair fell in curls over those small shoulders. Dark hair with a touch of mahogany, or maybe rich cherry. Not quite red, but with a notable amount of warmth, the way a tree ended its journey from burnished gold to deep russet in the fall.

He sipped from his glass, again taking in the skirt, both flirty and fun in equal measures. A guy could get lost in there. Get lost in her.

An inviting thought, indeed.

When the opportunity to attend a technology trade show in San Diego, California, arose, Reid leaped at the chance. He’d been on high alert for the past two years, ever since his best friend, Flynn, survived a divorce, his dad’s death and elevation to president of his company all within a relatively short period of time. Reid worked at said company, liked his job, respected the hell out of Flynn and wasn’t willing to step away until the situation was sorted.

This trip to California was looked upon as a break by Reid and a necessity by Flynn. They’d implemented a lot of changes in the past twelve months, and Reid was intent on making the tech side of the company shine. He was the self-appointed King of Information. Data made sense to him.

So did women.

The brunette spun around, her skirt swirling, her smile a seemingly permanent feature. She was lively and vivid, and even in her muted gold-and-cream ensemble, somehow the brightest color in the room. A man approached her, and Reid promptly lost his smile, a strange feeling of propriety rolling over him and causing him to bristle.

The suited man was average height with a receding hairline. He was on the skinny side, but the vision in gold simply smiled up at him, dazzling the man like he’d cast a spell. When she shook her head in dismissal and the man ducked his head and moved on, relief swamped Reid, but he still didn’t approach her.

Careful was the only way to proceed, or so instinct told him. She was open but somehow skittish, in an outfit he couldn’t take his eyes from. And he wasn’t the only one looking. Upon a second glance around, he saw that there were, in fact, many men looking at her.

Most were in clusters with one another, clinging to their own. The company Reid worked for had sent him alone, atypical since he worked closely with his best friends from college, but he didn’t mind flying solo. He was a Singleton, after all.

At Monarch Consulting, they shared the goal of helping other businesses grow and perform better. Flynn Parker—the aforementioned inheritor of the firm—was in charge and, while a bit straight-edged, definitely the best man for the job. Gage Fleming was in charge of sales, a good fit since he leaked charm like a noxious gas. Reid fancied himself a blend of both men, which was why they got on so well. The fourth musketeer, Sabrina Douglas, had been the bestie and plucky sidekick for years but recently became Flynn’s wife-to-be. A kick in the nuts since Flynn was the one who initiated a pact with Gage and Reid never to wed in the first place.

But Reid couldn’t deny that Sabrina and Flynn were meant to be together. It was obvious that they were in love, even to a cynic like Reid. Gage had agreed and they’d released Flynn from the pact, leaving Reid and Gage to hold strong.

Until Gage met Andrea Payne, a consultant superhero with strawberry-blond locks and a cunning smile. They were quite the dynamo couple, Andy and Gage. Their wedding was scheduled for next June. Flynn and Sabrina hadn’t set an official date, but Reid guessed that announcement was forthcoming.

Weddings, weddings everywhere.

No matter. The breaking of the pact by both Flynn and Gage wasn’t something Reid took personally. He’d decided a long time ago never to be married for a mountain of reasons he wasn’t going to turn over in his head now. Gage’s and Flynn’s saying “I do” weren’t going to change his mind.

Another swish of the brunette’s skirt paired with her stepping from the dance floor. She aimed those tall shoes right for him. Reid reached up to straighten his tie, forgetting he’d tossed it on the bed in his hotel room along with his jacket. He settled for tugging his collar instead.

In his beige slacks, pale blue shirt, brown belt and brown leather shoes, he resembled every other man in the room save for a few slight differences.

Reid was thirty-one, not in his forties or fifties. He had a head full of wavy dark hair, no signs of male pattern baldness whatsoever. He also had a face that was perplexingly handsome, or so he’d been told. It was a face that aided him in bedding the many women who’d graced his sheets over the years, and he’d made it his mission to show them not just a good time but the best time while they were there.

Sabrina had once joked about Reid sleeping his way through their college campus. He’d responded that he’d been performing a service for women who otherwise wouldn’t have known good sex if it showed up at their dorm room door wearing pasties on its nipples.

A joke, sure, but he hadn’t been completely joking. He prided himself on his prowess as much as his service. He might be Clark Kent by day, glasses on when screen fatigue became too much, but at night he morphed into Superman in the bedroom.

Man of Steel, he thought with a smirk.

For those reasons he hadn’t been in a rush to approach the goddess in the Grecian-style high heels like some of the other men in the room. Reid had already decided to carefully choose his moment, but as she made eye contact, he realized he wasn’t going to have to approach her.

She was coming to him.

Two

Until this exact moment in time, Drew Fleming had never successfully captured Reid Singleton’s undivided attention. She’d recognized him the instant their eyes locked across the room. He looked the same as when her brother, Gage, had introduced him years ago. To summarize: disgustingly, distractingly hot.

Reid, while still disgustingly, distractingly hot, was also somehow more. More mature. Slightly weathered. Handsome. Stately. Broader, too, his shoulders taking up more space in that button-up shirt than they had a right to.

Her heart pattered insistently against her rib cage as she walked toward him, and she forced herself to take deep breaths. She wasn’t going to dissolve into Reid’s biggest fan at a conference mixer, nor was she going to have a panic attack and run off in another direction. Drew was proud of who she was, of how far she’d come. She was no longer Gage’s backward, chubby younger sister. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled shyly as she hid behind her hair.

She put a hop in her next step as she drew her chin up and shook her hair. Reid’s tempting mouth slid into an expression that screamed interested. And who could blame him? She was rocking this skirt.

Reid and Drew didn’t have much of a past to speak of, considering he’d only known her when she was fifty pounds heavier. She’d been the quiet girl sneaking frosting off the edge of her birthday cake because she couldn’t wait for everyone to sing “Happy Birthday” before she tasted it.

Back then she’d had either white-blond hair with pink streaks, or jet black—that phase had lasted what felt like forever—before accepting her weight and her mouse-brown natural hair color as an adult. But today Reid was seeing her as her best self. Her rich, dark hair long and flowing over her shoulders. Her smile bright, her lipstick fresh, her new killer heels sexily laced up her ankles. If there was ever a perfect time to run into Reid Singleton, it was right now.

She’d have to call her roommate, Christina, the moment this mixer was over and thank her for coming down with the plague.

See, Drew might be herself, but she also wasn’t herself. She was playing the role of her roommate, who’d had the unfortunate luck to contract the flu before the tech event for her company. Christina had been working at the Brentwood Corporation for just under a year and was worried if she missed the first conference they’d assigned her to, they’d never ask her to do another.

Drew was desperately in need of a break after a messy split with her ex a year ago. She felt was like she was emerging from the shadows after a long, deep slumber, so she volunteered to come here in Christina’s stead.

Admittedly, manning—or womanning—the booth at the conference wasn’t as fun as an actual vacation, but Drew made the best of it. She’d had a lot of visitors today and smiled and welcomed them even if she didn’t understand what the heck the video she played on repeat was trying to convey. But what she was skilled at was small talk, and so whenever someone popped in, she’d winged it.

Tonight’s mixer was a great excuse to wear the new shoes, admittedly a splurge, but she’d learned to spoil herself—to splurge on things other than food. Drew splurged on joy. Splurged on clothes. And tonight she might splurge on flirting with Reid Singleton. The way he was watching her hinted that he would enjoy that.

She ventured over to the quiet, darker part of the room only he was occupying. Reid set aside his glass, an inch of brown liquid in the bottom, and tilted his head as she approached.

She was tempted to duck her head to hide from the intense eye contact, but she forced herself to hold his cerulean gaze. “Hi.”

“Hello.” His voice was as rich as dark chocolate and every bit as sinful as those stolen swipes of frosting from her birthday cake. In spite of living in America for over a decade, his accent hadn’t gone anywhere. He perused her from head to toe before those traveling eyes locked on her chest. “Christina. That’s a pretty name.”

Oh. Damn. Her badge! She’d clipped it on her top to make sure she would be admitted into the party but failed to tuck it away when she arrived.

Wait...

Reid knew she wasn’t Christina, right? He had to be kidding. And so she laughed.

“Christina. Right.”

“The tag’s a bit of a formality but I’m glad for it. Saved me asking your name. I’ve been watching you dance.”

Drew felt her smile slip. Damn. He didn’t recognize her. A frisson of hurt rippled through her, and her smile was a little harder to hold. Was she so forgettable?

“You noticed me,” he said.

“What?” She blinked as she reframed the situation in her head. She hadn’t seen him in forever and she looked nothing like her former self. Still, she was halfway to offended that her brother’s friend didn’t know who she was...but she was also intrigued. What was the intrigue about?

Second chances, part of her whispered.

Reid knew Drew as Gage’s little sis who was a fashion disaster, rarely spoke and was curled on the couch with a book whenever he had seen her. And though the summer she’d been rocking a black bikini at their family’s backyard pool had been more about rebellion than catching Reid’s attention, she remembered him noticing. In passing. He certainly hadn’t looked at her the way he was looking at her now.

Like he wanted her.

What was that saying? That there wasn’t a second chance to make a first impression. She’d bet there wasn’t a single soul alive who didn’t want to press a do-over button on something stupid they’d said or done in the past, to leave a totally different first impression. Evidently, she had the rare opportunity to do just that.

Reid and Drew both lived in Seattle—as did her brother—but she’d done her level best to keep from bumping into Reid on accident. Sure she’d undergone a transformation, but she wasn’t willing to risk being overlooked again. He’d always seen Drew through the lens of “Gage’s sister,” and she doubted dropping weight and changing her hair color would change that. Not that she had to try hard to avoid him. Her social media footprint was almost invisible. She’d endured enough bullying in high school to know better than put up a photo and expect likes and wait for compliments. Nooooo thanks.

If she was running into him here, of all places, the universe must be nudging her to take action where he was concerned. It was a sign.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

A laugh bubbled from her throat. A second chance to make a first impression on Reid. To find out how long it took him to realize that he was flirting and chatting with none other than Drew Fleming, Gage’s younger sister, and not the mysterious “Christina” from the conference.

This should be fun. And no less than he deserved for not recognizing her on sight.

“Only if it’s golden yellow and bubbly.”

He eyed her gold shirt. “Fitting.”

He offered his arm and she curled her fingers around his biceps. Whatever cool she had slipped from her like rainwater off a duck’s back. She’d easily navigated the room in her high-heeled shoes all evening, but now worried she might stumble and fall. She swiped her teeth with her tongue in case her lipstick had transferred. She suddenly worried there was something in her nose or—

“Champagne and scotch rocks, please,” Reid ordered from the bartender. Her palm was sweaty. So were her teeth, for that matter.

Do not freak out. Do not freak out!

She’d play a role. Like an actor. Deep inside she was the same Drew, but her outer appearance had changed enough that some days she felt like someone else. She was definitely a stronger version of herself. A happier version of herself. She’d sprouted and then bloomed, and now a tender new bud was around the corner. She could feel it.

Screw Chef Devin Briggs for never seeing the rose he’d had.

She shook her head. She wasn’t going to let thoughts of her ex-boyfriend ruin a one-on-one with Reid.

“Golden and bubbly.” Reid handed her the champagne flute. “Should we sit or linger?” He leaned in when he asked, and she was so focused on the shape of his upper lip, the tempting fullness of his lower lip, that she didn’t answer.

“Huh?” Smooth, Drew.

He gestured to a cluster of boxy-looking chairs and a sofa in the corner. Currently unoccupied.

“Sit. Let’s sit.” Before she had a case of the vapors and fell flat on her face.

He took her free hand this time, his blunt fingers and wide palm dwarfing her smaller ones. She walked toward the sofa with one thought dominating all others. I’m holding Reid’s hand. I’m holding Reid’s hand!

She felt like a teenager again, smitten by this gorgeous god of a man who seemed too perfect to be real. Except she was closer to his equal now, wasn’t she? The playing field hadn’t been leveled, but close. She was a professional with a great job and a great life, and her shoes were adding four inches of much-needed height. She was confident and strong, and she wouldn’t trade this second chance for anything. His being attracted to her was doing wonders for her ego.

Shallow, but no less true.

Dipping his chin, he gestured for her to sit. She did, crossing one leg over the other and noticing when Reid noticed. She hid her smile at the rim of the champagne flute. As bubbles tickled her throat and popped on her tongue, he settled in next to her.

“Where do you hail from, Christina—” another glance at her name tag “—Kolch?”

“And you pronounced it right. Impressive.” Christina was always complaining that she’d heard everything from “Cock” to “Couch” whenever someone said her last name.

“Like the soda but with an L, I figured.”

“You figured right.” A weighty pause hovered in the air and she realized her faux pas. She recovered with a stilted, “What’s your name?” and felt silly for asking.

“Singleton. Reid Singleton.”

“Did you intentionally introduce yourself like James Bond, or did I hear it that way because of your accent?” His smile erased her mind like a powerful magnet, but thankfully she recovered quickly. “I assume you didn’t grow up in California?”

“I’m from London, but I live in Seattle and have for years. Never developed a knack for you Americans’ hard Rs.”

He overpronounced the R in hard and Rs, which made him sound a little like a pirate. Drew laughed again.

“Do you always giggle this much or only when you drink champagne?”

“Only when I drink champagne with handsome strangers,” she said, enjoying the game and the new rules for it. When Reid figured out who she was in the next two minutes, she would shove his arm in an ole-buddy-ole-pal way and chastise him for his weak powers of observation.

But she was in no hurry. She liked him this way—trying to win her attention, sitting taller when she’d paid him a compliment he had to know was true. It wasn’t like Reid didn’t own a mirror. He was obviously good-looking to the nth degree.

It was unfair to every other man on the planet.

“Well played.” His voice was a low murmur as he leaned in, his eyes touching her lips. He then sat back, taking her breath with him, and sipped his scotch while she drained half her champagne.

She suddenly didn’t want this to end. She didn’t want him to recognize her. She wanted to be seen as charming and playful and beautiful. She wanted to relax and have fun and flirt.

Her gaze locked on his full lower lip below his contoured top lip. She wanted to kiss him. Before it was too late. Before she lost her nerve, and her only chance with it. As soon as he figured out that she was Drew Fleming, the moment would be lost.

A wave of panic sailed through her chest. She’d regret not kissing him for the rest of her life if she didn’t do it now. She set aside her champagne glass and faced him.

“Tell me more about—” he started, but she cut him off. In the most delicious way possible.

She grabbed his dashing, perfect face, tugged his mouth to hers and kissed him hard.

Three

Reid’s spicy cologne tickled her nose as she tasted his amazing mouth. She’d sort of slammed her lips into his to start—blame years of pent-up lust—but now she eased into a more tender kiss, sliding her lips over his in gentle exploration.

She didn’t know if he felt the same electric sizzle that flamed to life inside her the moment their mouths met, but she accepted that this couldn’t go on forever. When they pulled apart, she’d come clean. She’d tell him her name—her real one—and then she would do the awkward dance of apologizing for the subterfuge.

But when she would’ve ended the kiss, Reid’s fingers fed into her hair, holding her close. He opened his mouth wide and stroked his tongue against hers.

That ignited flame inside her burst into a five-alarm fire. He kissed like no man she’d ever known. The slide of his tongue was ten times more intoxicating than the champagne she’d been drinking—in and out, in and out. A needy sound resonated from her throat.

Reid Singleton was even more delicious than she’d imagined. And, oh, had she imagined. In the darkest corner of her bedroom with a flashlight and her journal. A shoebox in her closet held some truly horrible poetry. She’d imagined him saying her name in his proper accent—not in polite greeting, but with passion.

She might never know what it was like to hear him say her name in that way, but at least she knew how he tasted. Like smoky scotch and sexy male. Every part of her from her peaking nipples to her overheating thighs wanted to climb onto his lap and satisfy the insistent throbbing between her legs.

His kiss was both thorough but careful, his skill and his tongue almost too much to bear. Here was a man who knew how to please a woman, and Drew was a woman who needed pleasing. Badly. Not just sex for sex’s sake, but sex with Reid. Sex with the man who’d noticed her from across the room, who had always been polite and friendly to her and her family. The man who, if she told him who she was, would end this fantasy in an instant because he would never take advantage of his best friend’s little sister.

She wanted to hover in the in-between forever. Where they knew each other physically, where the past had no weight on the present.

She palmed his chest, and even over a shirt, he felt better than he had in her fantasies. Hard and firm, and real. So real. Greedily, she ran her fingers to the open placket of his shirt and touched the bare skin of his neck. That’s when he broke their connection.

Blinking like he was having an epiphany, he took her hand from his chest and held it, her fingers gripped lightly in his. She watched in horror as he studied her, his eyebrows drawn. She waited for recognition to hit, her own fear and worry a toxic mix. He’d recognize her, reject her—and possibly apologize for kissing her back, which would be worse than the other two combined.

Turned out he did that first.

“Apologies for that,” he said, his accent thick, his voice tight with what she hoped was lust and not disappointment.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who kissed you.” She licked her lips, needing another drink of her champagne like her next breath. She reached for the flute, but he beat her to it, handing over her glass. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

A deep chuckle brought her eyes to his, and she held his gaze and silently asked the question she wouldn’t dare ask aloud. Did you figure out who I am yet?

“All seven minutes you’ve known me, Christina?” His lips twisted temptingly. If that didn’t answer her question soundly, nothing would. He still had no idea who she was.

She polished off the remainder of her bubbly. Disappointment had no place in the moments following kissing him, but it was there anyway, making her chest tight and causing her to feel something else. Sad, if she wasn’t mistaken.

Beggars can’t be choosers, Drew. You wanted to kiss him, and this was your only opportunity. Did you expect more?

More.

She blinked, the rogue thought so far from her good-girl tendencies she instinctively wanted to shut it out. Reid’s throat moved as he swallowed a sip of scotch. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and she chased the line of his neck to the scant bit of chest hair visible where his shirt gaped open—just below where she’d touched him seconds ago.

Lie or confess?

“I’m an impatient woman. That’s why I kissed you.” Lie, it was.

She wanted more. She wanted to run her tongue along his neck and kiss his bare chest. She wanted to kiss the firm, flat plane of his belly and trace that trail of hair down to the promised land. She wanted his mouth on hers, and lower. On her breasts and body, between her legs where she knew he’d be incredibly attentive and pleasing.

Although, if she walked out of this party without him—without telling him who she was—she’d be off the hook completely. She didn’t hang around online and chat with old friends or new. She wouldn’t cross Reid’s path again unless Gage invited them to the same party—oh, shit.

Her brother’s wedding!

Reid would see Drew at the wedding because he’d be there, obviously. Hell, he’d probably be the best man. He’d recognize her then, now wouldn’t he?

That narrowed her options to an unfortunate one: confessing her real identity.

Reid tucked her hair behind her ear, then rested his arm over the back of the sofa. Leaning close, he watched her carefully. “I like impatience in a woman. And not to sound like a complete nutter, but I feel as if that kiss was inevitable. That even if you’d have waited seven more minutes, and seven more after that, it would’ve happened eventually.”

Or maybe if I’d waited nine years. Ha ha ha...sigh.

He traced his finger along her jaw, his eyes following the path. Her heart rate was erratic. Could he see her pulse point thundering at the side of her neck? Then another, more devious, thought occurred. If she didn’t tell him the truth just yet, how far could she take this night of fantasy? He’d forgive her. He’d have to. Gage and Reid weren’t going to stop being friends because Drew told a white lie. Although one had to wonder if her own identity would be considered a “white” lie. Maybe off-white. Light gray...

“Like fate?” she whispered as he traced the scoop neckline of her shirt. This felt like fate to her.

“Bold word, but why not?” He continued touching her exposed skin, barely any pressure, the tickling sensation bringing forth goose bumps. “I also imagine that the evening will end with more than kissing if you’ll allow it.”

The skipped beat of her heart caused her breath to catch. “M-more?”

He trailed his hand to her palm and wove their fingers together. “A night together would amp up this conference to best-ever territory. I know you don’t know me, Christina, but while I’m a man who enjoys a woman in my bed, I rarely mix work and play.”

He lifted their entwined hands and kissed the top of hers, his stunning blue irises burning into her. She’d known Reid well enough to know that he didn’t hold back in the physical affection department, but she’d never label him a player. That was too crass a word for him. He was simply a physical guy, acting on his instincts and his, she assumed, amazing skill. She couldn’t imagine a single woman leaving his company being disappointed in his performance. Though many of them probably felt like she did: full of longing and worrying he wouldn’t return her affections.

If ever there was a “seize the day” moment, this was it.

“What do you say? My room or yours? I’ll let you choose, but mine is a suite with a kitchen, a balcony and a soaking tub.”

“No piano?” She wanted to shout “yes!” but her nerves—or maybe her habit of always doing the right thing—had her stalling.

“No piano.” His glorious chuckle might be the death of her. She wasn’t a swooner, but she was close. “Room service and I are acquainted. I arrived two days before the conference started, and there wasn’t an after-party with a beautiful woman in gold waiting to share my steak and movie.”

“What movie?”

He grinned, maybe knowing she was stalling and not caring. “Jaws.”

“Jaws!” His answer startled a laugh out of her. “How did you sleep?”

He let go of her hand, charm dialed to eleven as he swept his hand to her nape. He said one word—“fitfully”—before covering her lips with his and drinking her in for a kiss that lasted long enough to turn her brain to mush.

“Christina.” His warm breath coasted over her lips.

Drew’s eyes were closed, the pretending still in play. She could carry on this farce, let him seduce her for real and agree not to regret the sex. It wasn’t as if she would’ve had a prayer of seducing Reid as herself, but as “Christina” she had a chance.

“Let me make your dreams come true,” he said. “Come to my room.”

It was everything she wanted to hear, but guilt niggled at her.

“Isn’t that a secondary location?” she breathed. “I learned never to be moved to a secondary location.”

Another light press of his lips, and she opened her eyes. It was like seeing him for the first time, that angled jaw, those entrancing eyes, the full mouth slightly pink from her recent attention. How could she say no?

She couldn’t.

“That was a joke.” She gripped his shirt and kissed him. He let her, which was thrilling. “I’d like to see your room, Reid. I’d like to see much more than your room.”

Her heart was tapping out a salsa, her palms sweaty, her stomach a Tilt-A-Whirl of excitement. This was happening—really happening—and since Drew was a woman accustomed to setting goals and achieving them, she decided to stop justifying and embrace the moment. This moment.

“That might be the yes of my life, Christina.”

She didn’t know if he said that to all the girls, but she wanted to believe that it was just for her. They stood, leaving their glasses on the low table by the sofa, and then he led her away from the thumping bass of the speakers and out of the room.

Four

Drew entered the elevator and Reid stepped in behind her. The doors swished shut as he punched the button for the twenty-first floor.

She was in an elevator, alone with Reid Singleton, heading skyward to his hotel room, where they would have sex. Drew smothered a smile as she examined her strappy shoes, a flush of heat creeping along her neck as she imagined him removing those shoes and kissing his way up her calves...

She was as confident in his ability as she was in herself, although admittedly her confidence was fairly recent. Three years ago, at age twenty-four, she decided she’d no longer hide behind the excess weight or comfort herself by eating. She hired a personal trainer and cut out processed and fried foods and quickly dropped the unwanted pounds.

Drew loved food. Of that she’d had no doubt. But she didn’t feel an ounce of shame admitting she loved food now that she had a healthy relationship with it. No longer did she soothe her negative emotions by eating; now she exercised or worked. She’d changed her mind-set—decided she was worthy of the good things life had to offer—and that had made all the difference.

A little over a year ago she’d achieved another goal. She’d been featured in Restauranteurs, an industry magazine, as one of the “Top 30 under 30” professionals. She’d been the only restaurant public relations manager in the magazine.

Her employer, Fig & Truffle, owned several restaurants, cafés and bars in and around Seattle. It’d been Drew’s job these four years to oversee the soft openings. Seattle’s foodie scene was massive. And after the feature in the magazine, Fig & Truffle boosted her pay and made Drew the PR go-to.

She handled press, booked reviewers, interviewed top chefs from around the world...which was how she’d met her previous boyfriend. Chef Devin Briggs was the cherry on top of her “I’ve arrived” sundae, but they didn’t last. How could they when he was a selfish ass in love with only himself?

Jerk.

“Second thoughts?” Reid’s smooth voice interrupted as the elevator bumped to a soft stop. He was watching her with curiosity and not in recognition, thank goodness.

“Not at all.” She stepped out when the doors parted, pausing in the long corridor for him to lead the way. He palmed her lower back as they walked side by side, and again she became intently aware of him—of the breadth of his shoulders and warm weight of his hand on her body. Of his comforting presence.

There was an innate kindness to Reid one might overlook upon first meeting him. Probably because he was insanely gorgeous. That sharp jaw, full mouth and the hint of a dent at the center of his chin were so all-consuming it took a few minutes to realize he was human and not a futuristic sex toy designed solely for a woman’s pleasure. Looking at him was a decadent treat—forget kissing him. Only she’d never, ever forget. Not even when she was ninety and gumming her food.

At the end of the corridor, Reid guided her to the right to a double-doored suite. He scanned his key, and gestured for her to go in ahead of him.

The suite was about one hundred times nicer than her room. She’d bunked at a hotel across the street from the convention center. Her room had a rattling air-conditioning unit, pilled, nubby carpet and wall hangings the color of pea soup. She’d have to tell Christina the next time her company offered to send her out of town to upgrade the room if possible.

Conversely, Reid’s room was modern and posh. No piano, but the palette was a tasteful dove gray and pale ocean blue and minimally decorated with stylish furniture. The door opened to a wide sitting room with a couch and colorful throw pillows. A flat-screen television hung on the wall. A kitchenette and bar were on the opposite side, and the bedroom was visible through an open door across the room. Her eyes snagged on that room for a beat, imagining being laid on that stone-colored bedspread under Reid’s blue-eyed attention...

Her recently earned confidence took a sudden dip.

“Nice. This is nice,” she told him, her smile feeling brittle and forced.

“My company spoils me.” He walked to a desk in the far corner, lifted the phone’s receiver and murmured into it while she meandered around the suite. The bathroom was the size of her entire hotel room, the soaking tub wide enough for three people to sit comfortably.

“Champagne and strawberries are on their way up.” She turned to see Reid stuff his hands in his pockets, his expression handsome and affable. “You didn’t think I’d bring you up here and strip you bare right away, did you? Where’s the fun in that?”

He untucked his hands and came to her, cradling her jaw. “If you change your mind at any time, Christina, say the word. I’m not owed anything.”

“That won’t happen,” she whispered. “I need this more than you know.”

A flicker of concern sparked in his eyes before a flame of desire crowded it out. She rested both hands on his chest, and he took the invitation to kiss her deeply. The only sounds were the soft suctioning of their mouths and the gentle scrape of the material of her shirt as he moved his palms over her arms.

Drew hadn’t been with anyone since Chef Devin Briggs left her to start a family with another woman. Drew hadn’t been ready for a family. She’d been building her career and enjoying her freedom. Devin, eleven years older than her, had already established his career and was ready to settle down. It’d been a frequent topic of argument between them, and had eventually led to their demise.

She’d been single since he left, working hard and skipping sleep in pursuit of becoming the very best at what she did. As a result, she hadn’t had time to feel truly lonely. Christina had been there to distract her, chattering away about work or her own guy problems.

Drew had spent any free time she’d had researching and reading about food service and public relations, or staying up until the wee hours to call chefs in other countries who might be interested in lending their expertise to one of Fig & Truffle’s franchises.

In short, she hadn’t had the time or inclination to indulge her fantasies.

Until tonight.

Her fingers twitched with the urge to undo each button on Reid’s shirt and kiss a trail over his hard chest to the muscular bumps of his abdomen. At the same time, she worried that somehow he would see her—the former her. That the pounds she’d lost would reappear in his mind and he’d recoil, leaving her feeling unworthy all over again.

Ridiculous, she scolded silently.

He nipped her bottom lip before peppering kisses on the side of her neck. Her worries dissipated with each press of his lips. Overcome by longing and the sensations in her sex-starved body, Drew gave in to the experience that was Reid.

He must’ve sensed that she was through talking or stalling, because next he bent and lifted her, propping her back against the wall. He continued kissing her neck and collarbone as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He anchored her there with his hips between her open thighs and—oh!

Her center lined up perfectly with the hard ridge of his erection, which made its presence known as it pressed against her most sensitive spot.

“Ready, both of us, then.” He ground against her, sending her into a mental free fall.

She’d never imagined sex with him would be a reality. When she’d last seen him, she’d been eighteen and awkward and shy and quiet, and at that birthday party where she’d decided to wear the damn bikini, she hadn’t missed Reid flirting shamelessly with the female bartender. While he’d ordered a beer, Drew had sipped on mocktails without a drop of alcohol. It’d been a good reminder of the gaps between them—not only the handful of years separating their ages but also of his class and stature. Of his sheer beauty and her averageness. Like a great sequoia next to a plain maple tree, anyone could see how different they were.

Tonight, she’d prove to herself she was worthy of the great Reid Singleton.

“I’ve been ready longer than you know,” she said. His hair was thick and soft against her fingers. He smiled, his lips damp from kissing her. Once again she worried he was looking at her. Really looking.

She worried he might see that beyond her dark hair and curvy yet slimmer physique was the once-shy younger sister of Gage. She didn’t want to become suddenly undesirable or untouchable.

So not an option.

Distracting him as best she knew how, Drew stroked Reid’s crotch, pleased when the material of his pants tented invitingly. He groaned, his tongue plunging into her mouth as he took his sweet time.

She was ready—absolutely aching to have him inside her. He loosened his hold on her, and she untangled her legs from his waist to stand on her feet. She unbuckled his belt and worked his fly open as he tore his mouth from hers to suck in a breath. He freed her from her shirt and once her lacy pale pink bra was revealed, he froze, his attention on her breasts. They were generous and always had been, but appeared even bigger in the silky demicup bra she’d purchased to match her shoes. Her D cups were swollen and pressed together, her deep cleavage an invitation.

It was an invitation he eagerly accepted, cupping her breasts and lowering his face to kiss the tops of each one.

She’d worked hard on her body—keeping her waist trim and legs toned took a lot of work and effort. And since she’d worked hard, she was going to enjoy her reward. Him.

She unbuttoned his shirt as he slipped the bra straps off her shoulders, kissing her here and there as he did. She ran her hands over the expanse of his golden skin, and he tugged one bra cup down and sucked on her nipple. Her back arched, sending her breast deeper into his mouth, the resulting dampness in her panties a welcome warmth.

His mouth is the eighth wonder of the world, she thought, dazed by his skill.

He moved to her other nipple but before he could blow her mind, a sharp knock at the door preceded a call of “Room service!”

He lifted his face to hers, his eyes glazed with arousal. She fisted his hair in protest, and he winced in pain.

“Sorry,” she muttered, letting him go.

“No, I’m sorry.” He sent a baleful look in the direction of the door. She didn’t want him to stop or even pause. She didn’t want to give him a single moment to reconsider or change his mind. She couldn’t bear the rejection.

He lifted her hand and kissed her palm before bending to retrieve her shirt and pressing it over her exposed breasts.

“Bedroom.” His voice was rusty and sexy as hell. “I’ll take care of this.”

He crossed the room, his shirt and pants open, his hair a disaster.

Her grin was downright arrogant.

She’d weakened Reid Singleton’s knees. What a powerful feeling that was. And he didn’t seem anywhere near done with her yet.

At the door Reid buttoned his pants and ran his hands through his hair, sending her a wink as she backed into the shadows of the bedroom.

Five

Reid didn’t bother closing his shirt or tidying himself much before letting the hotel employee in. He’d ordered champagne and strawberries, after all, which should’ve made it obvious that he was having a romantic interlude. He did tuck his hips behind the door when he opened it. What he was hiding from view would be too much information for whoever would wheel in the dessert cart.

A shaggy-haired guy who couldn’t be more than twenty-one shuffled in looking bored and tired. Reid retrieved the first bill he saw from his wallet and stuffed it in the guy’s palm.

Bloody hell. Reid had given him a fifty in his haste.

The kid held up the bill and blinked at it. “Wow. Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” Any amount of money was worth returning to his date as quickly as possible.

Door shut, Reid flipped the safety lock as Christina appeared from the dark bedroom. Her skirt was in place, those incredible shoes crisscrossing up her ankles. Her shirt was still missing—a good sign—and she was wearing a pale pink bra that barely encased her gorgeous breasts.

Those breasts might be the death of him, but what a way to go.

She repositioned the cups almost self-consciously as she walked toward him. He knew her breasts were both beautiful and delicious. He’d have to take more time admiring and tasting them. He also wanted to taste those thighs and higher. He’d had her legs around his hips, her molten center warming his straining erection. He needed her, and he needed her now.

“The cart’s arrived.” Not what he wanted to say, but he thinking was a challenge with all the blood flowing to his nethers.

“I see that.” Her smile was so sweet that he couldn’t shake the idea that he was taking advantage of her somehow. The way she’d said earlier that she’d been ready longer than he knew hinted that it’d been a while since she’d had a man in her bed. Likely longer since she’d had a man who knew what he was doing in her bed.

Through the women he’d known, he’d learned that men didn’t make it their priority to pleasure a woman. Which was criminal. When gifted with a beauty like the one standing before him, how could Reid not take his time exploring every inch of that body to learn what turned her on? What made her moan or giggle? What made her gasp in surprise or go to the brink of where only he’d be able to take her...

Best not to rush if that was his goal.

He grabbed the champagne bottle by the neck and took it from the ice bucket. His date’s smile slipped as her eyes went to his hands working the cork. Worry puckered her brow.

“Did you...change your mind?” she asked, and bless her breasts, she actually sounded serious.

A rough chuckle escaped him as he popped the cork from the bottle. “Definitely not. I’m attempting to be a gentleman.”

“What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman? What if I prefer hurried over slow?” She glided across the room like a petite runway model, skimming the couch with her fingertips, her shoulders back, those inviting breasts jiggling as she walked.

“Why? Have you somewhere else to be?” He filled the two flutes and nestled the champagne into the ice before lifting a silver dome to reveal rows of ripe red strawberries and a bowl of melted dark chocolate.

Her pink tongue touched the corner of her lips.

“A gentleman wouldn’t rush to undress you right away. A gentleman—” he dunked one berry into the chocolate “—would sample the chocolate off your nipples while feeding you a strawberry.”

She sucked in an anticipatory breath. He had her full attention.

“A gentleman—” he carried one of the flutes over to her “—would sip this from your belly button before kissing you where it matters most. Ever had an effervescent orgasm, Christina?”

The heat in her eyes banked. “I prefer love.”

A request he’d heard before. Some American women liked that term, he assumed because of his accent. He wasn’t below fulfilling their fantasies.

He approached with the strawberry, chocolate delicately balanced on the tip. He lowered it to her mouth while saying, “Ever had an effervescent orgasm, love?”

She took a bite of the chocolate-covered berry, her eyelids, coated in a shimmery gold shadow, sinking shut. She moaned, a soft “mmm” that turned him on far more than it ought to. With this woman it seemed the anticipation of what came next was as exciting as the act.

Fantastic.

He polished off the rest of the berry, tossed the stem aside and kissed her. She tasted of chocolate and sweet red fruit. When she looked up at him, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes begging for what he’d promised.

“You’ve been with the wrong men, love.”

“Tell me about it.”

He offered her the champagne, and she took a sip, licking her full, inviting lips, and his erection grew harder.

“We only have tonight, but that doesn’t mean we have to rush,” he told her. “In fact, since we have so little time together it makes sense to savor it.”

He thought of this as “the talk.” He didn’t want to spoil the evening with overexplaining, but he wouldn’t go forward before setting the expectation. Where Reid was concerned, there was no possibility for a relationship. He had no desire to go down that road.

“Believe me, Reid,” she said on a throaty laugh. “I didn’t expect things to get this far.” She touched the dip in his chin and wiggled her finger. “Tonight will have to be enough for both of us.”

A ribbon of unease curled in his chest. Already he wanted more than tonight, and he hadn’t even had her yet.

“Unless we change our minds,” he heard himself say.

“Why would we do that?” She narrowed one eye, her mouth a tempting purse.

“Are you staying for the entire conference?”

“I am.”

“What if you find yourself bored while you’re here and crave my company?” He threw in a shrug like he wasn’t anticipating her answer.

“Hmm. We’ll see.” With that noncommittal response, she put her palm on his chest and shoved him toward the couch. He was content to let her do as she pleased.

A side table lamp and the bathroom light glowed, but other than that the suite was dark. Even in shadow, Christina was inviting.

Despite the added height of her shoes, she had to stretch to kiss him. He held the flute out of reach and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her soft, supple curves against him and erasing every bit of his memory. He’d promised to do...something. With the berries, or was it the champagne...? She’d entranced him.

“We aren’t rushing.” That much he’d remembered.

“No. We’re not.” She stole the flute, drained the remainder of the champagne and set it aside. Then she pushed him onto the couch. “But we’re not delaying, either.”

She clicked off the lamp and straddled him, her breasts between them. He cupped his hands over her bra, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples until the hard nubs beaded beneath the fabric.

She gasped one word. “Yes.”

“Does it hurt good, love?”

“So good,” she agreed.

He unclasped the bra, freeing those bountiful orbs to the trusted homes of his palms. He took one nipple on his tongue and sucked hard, and she cried out—a sharp, high shout of pleasure.

When she wiggled her ass on his lap, his hips arched to find her—his cock eager to reach her warm, wet heat, his promises not to rush be damned.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.