| Author: | Lucinda DuBois | ISBN: | 1230000016258 |
| Publisher: | Lucinda DuBois | Publication: | September 7, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Lucinda DuBois |
| ISBN: | 1230000016258 |
| Publisher: | Lucinda DuBois |
| Publication: | September 7, 2012 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
Inexperienced private investigator Sydney Sellars witnesses a murder while staking out Barton Hintz, a powerful businessman rumored to be into illegal activites. She fears for her life and turns the only person who can help her, who has always helped her, family friend and billionare Remy Merrick.
Brash and powerful, Remy had always been the ojbect of her desire. But the disparity in their statuses and Sydney's own insecurities had always kept them apart. Kept her from allowing herself to be taken. But now, with nowhere and no one else to turn to, Sydney gives in to her desire.
Length: 8300 words
Adult Reading Material (18+) This book is for mature audiences only and contains sexually explicit content.
Read an excerpt:
The enormous house was a bit chilly, Sydney wrapped the thin robe around her body. Her hips and bust had filled out in the five years since she’d last worn it, the front barely covered her decently. She hoped Remy still kept the soft, green afghan on the sofa in his study.
She heard the front door opening when she was still a good distance from the top of the stairs. She knew instantly it was him. An almost painful awareness washed over her. She froze, listening to the decisive click of his shoes on the tile entry. She moved forward to where the wall dropped away and she could see down from the impressive height of the second floor. Remy was shrugging out of his overcoat and tossing it onto a chair. Underneath he wore an immaculately fitted tuxedo.
Damn. He had been someplace important. She would bet the contents of her checking account Dot was somewhere fuming right now. A small part of her enjoyed the image of the tall blonde stamping her Manolo Blahnik’s in rage.
“Syd!” he called. He tilted his dark gaze up, scanning the second level. They caught her small form just visible in the corner. He visibly relaxed, as if a load of tension had lifted from his shoulders. Without breaking eye contact, he started up the stairs. “You aren’t answering your phone!” he accused as he climbed.
Oh, God, he’s gotten even better looking, Sydney despaired. For all his polished attire, his face could only be described as ruggedly handsome. His square chin looked carved from granite. Even from her perch she could see his jaw muscles clenching the way they did when he was frustrated. He frustrated more often than not. Many would call his eyes grim – they were gray and piercing. His slashing black brows were set low over them, perpetually frowning over a overlarge nose with a bump in the bridge. His face was one of extreme character. Though he was only thirty-one, it held lifetimes of experience engraved in the lines bracketing his mouth and ridging his forehead.
Remy, you should smile more, Sydney thought for the hundredth time. This was why she could hardly bear to be around him. She hated what he was doing to himself. She hated how he drove himself to be this paragon of achievement, because what did any of it mean if he wasn’t even happy?
As always, his bearing was erect and elegant, almost at odds with his broad shoulders and thick chest. He was built like a boxer, tall and roped in muscle. His physical prowess was intimidating to many, but to Sydney it just said security.
He reached the top of the stairs and started toward her. Suddenly, the invisible bonds holding her in place snapped and she found herself rushing down the hall toward him. Running, really. He picked up his pace, too, his face taking on an expression she’d never seen on him before, was it…urgency? Had he been that worried? Did he want to touch her to know she was really alright? She wanted to touch him for the same reason.
She threw herself at him, trusting he would save her from hurling down the staircase at his back. Her arms reached around his neck at the same moment his big hands settled around her waist. He lifted her and the room rotated as her momentum carried them in a circle. A second later he crushed her to him.
Remy, usually so sure of himself, so good with words, was reduced to mutely clutching her little body to his.
Inexperienced private investigator Sydney Sellars witnesses a murder while staking out Barton Hintz, a powerful businessman rumored to be into illegal activites. She fears for her life and turns the only person who can help her, who has always helped her, family friend and billionare Remy Merrick.
Brash and powerful, Remy had always been the ojbect of her desire. But the disparity in their statuses and Sydney's own insecurities had always kept them apart. Kept her from allowing herself to be taken. But now, with nowhere and no one else to turn to, Sydney gives in to her desire.
Length: 8300 words
Adult Reading Material (18+) This book is for mature audiences only and contains sexually explicit content.
Read an excerpt:
The enormous house was a bit chilly, Sydney wrapped the thin robe around her body. Her hips and bust had filled out in the five years since she’d last worn it, the front barely covered her decently. She hoped Remy still kept the soft, green afghan on the sofa in his study.
She heard the front door opening when she was still a good distance from the top of the stairs. She knew instantly it was him. An almost painful awareness washed over her. She froze, listening to the decisive click of his shoes on the tile entry. She moved forward to where the wall dropped away and she could see down from the impressive height of the second floor. Remy was shrugging out of his overcoat and tossing it onto a chair. Underneath he wore an immaculately fitted tuxedo.
Damn. He had been someplace important. She would bet the contents of her checking account Dot was somewhere fuming right now. A small part of her enjoyed the image of the tall blonde stamping her Manolo Blahnik’s in rage.
“Syd!” he called. He tilted his dark gaze up, scanning the second level. They caught her small form just visible in the corner. He visibly relaxed, as if a load of tension had lifted from his shoulders. Without breaking eye contact, he started up the stairs. “You aren’t answering your phone!” he accused as he climbed.
Oh, God, he’s gotten even better looking, Sydney despaired. For all his polished attire, his face could only be described as ruggedly handsome. His square chin looked carved from granite. Even from her perch she could see his jaw muscles clenching the way they did when he was frustrated. He frustrated more often than not. Many would call his eyes grim – they were gray and piercing. His slashing black brows were set low over them, perpetually frowning over a overlarge nose with a bump in the bridge. His face was one of extreme character. Though he was only thirty-one, it held lifetimes of experience engraved in the lines bracketing his mouth and ridging his forehead.
Remy, you should smile more, Sydney thought for the hundredth time. This was why she could hardly bear to be around him. She hated what he was doing to himself. She hated how he drove himself to be this paragon of achievement, because what did any of it mean if he wasn’t even happy?
As always, his bearing was erect and elegant, almost at odds with his broad shoulders and thick chest. He was built like a boxer, tall and roped in muscle. His physical prowess was intimidating to many, but to Sydney it just said security.
He reached the top of the stairs and started toward her. Suddenly, the invisible bonds holding her in place snapped and she found herself rushing down the hall toward him. Running, really. He picked up his pace, too, his face taking on an expression she’d never seen on him before, was it…urgency? Had he been that worried? Did he want to touch her to know she was really alright? She wanted to touch him for the same reason.
She threw herself at him, trusting he would save her from hurling down the staircase at his back. Her arms reached around his neck at the same moment his big hands settled around her waist. He lifted her and the room rotated as her momentum carried them in a circle. A second later he crushed her to him.
Remy, usually so sure of himself, so good with words, was reduced to mutely clutching her little body to his.
