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Olivia Kane’s wedding day has just imploded spectacularly. Shots lined up at the bar? Bring it. Hot stranger on the hook? Come on down. What this party does not need is six feet and change of home-grown Texas cockiness in the form of her brother’s best friend, the man who broke her heart seven years ago.
She’s the woman he has to have . . .
Flynn Cross won’t stand by while Liv finds sensual solace in the arms of a stranger, not when his own hard-for-her body is more than up for the task. For one week, he’ll make her honeymoon-for-one a sizzling party for two.
Breaking the rules, one steamy night at a time . . .
But the taboo they’re breaking is only the beginning . . . and Flynn’s part in Liv’s wedding debacle could bring about their end.
Actress Tess McKenzie is performing in the Tenth Circle of Showbiz Hell—dinner theater. All she really wants is to start a theater of her own. Then Tess receives an offer she can’t refuse. She’ll get her funding…if she pretends to be the fiancée to her nemesis, Texan property tycoon Hunter Dade. If she’s going to pull this off, she’ll need all the luck she can get. Break a leg, indeed.
On the verge of a big business deal, Hunter needs to hire a fiancée. He hasn’t quite forgiven Tess for ruining his wedding, but when their chemistry goes from combative to straight-up lust, the “no sex” clause in their mutually beneficial arrangement is tested. Which is a serious problem, because if Tess isn’t careful, she’ll go from breaking a leg to breaking her heart…
Paying down her sister’s debts has left Emma Strickland with little more than the thrift store suit on her back. And as if the suckfest couldn’t get worse, she’s forced to moonlight as a waitress to support herself and her cat. At a strip club. Her uptight, sexy-as-hell boss Brody Kane can never find out.
Texas property tycoon Brody Kane hired Emma for her spreadsheet skills, but her prim and proper demeanor sealed the deal. There’s no room in his life for a sexy distraction … and yet, he can’t stop lusting after the delicious Ms. Strickland. And then he takes an important client to a Chicago strip club and gets the worst lap dance in adult entertainment history. From Emma.
Now that he knows his office good girl has a naughty streak, Brody makes it his mission to uncover her secrets, one steamy, illicit, over-the-desk encounter at a time. But Emma is hiding more than her side job, and her final secret could end up destroying them both.
When he didn’t hand over the towel as requested, just stood there gamely holding Liv’s gaze instead of dipping it over her nakedness like any other man with a pulse, she growled her frustration. Goddamn him, she was just a jumble of body parts in this man’s glittering blue eyes. It was all a game to Flynn—well, she was tired of playing every man’s fool.
“Just forget it.” She moved forward, ready to grasp the towel from his hands when he unfolded it and wrapped it around her shoulders. Still, he held her gaze. Not even a peek below her neck.
“What now, Livvie?” The teasing had gone from his voice, replaced by an unexpected huskiness. Mere inches of warm Mexican air separated their chests—his unfortunately covered, hers indisputably naked. Yet again, he had her on the back foot.
“I’ll call the airline. Reschedule my flight back to Houston.”
There was nothing for her here.
Flynn still held onto the edges of the towel and, instinctively, she inclined toward all that masculine heat. This involuntary action was soon followed by other wonders of the human body—her mouth went desert-dry, then watered, then dried up again.
Make up your minds, saliva glands!
He jerked the towel until they were chest to chest, hip to hip, core to…oh, Flynn. And then he bent his head and took control of lips that did not belong to him.
You’re a jerk, her brain was screaming. An unscrupulous, goat-fucking asswipe. But then something happened. Something incredible.
Her body surrendered. It knew what she needed, and she let herself off the hook because she’d had a rotten couple of days and deserved a moment’s bliss.
The kiss deepened, its velvet invasion obliterating her last shred of, albeit token, resistance. He swept his tongue inside, not sloppily, not stabbing, but with the perfect amount of heated pressure. Drowning in the feel and taste of him, she clutched at his broad shoulders, anxious for an anchor through this typhoon of sensation engulfing her.
He stopped, his breath fanning her lips with hot pants, and he licked his own lips, savoring her. There was something menacing in the action.
“Am I still the last guy on earth you’d open those pretty little thighs for, Liv?”
And we’re back. “You’re going to need more than an average kissing game to get with me, Cross.”
“Nothin’ average about that kiss.”
She sighed. “Don’t beg. It’s so unTexan.”
“Before the night’s through, sweets, I’ll be hearing your fuck-me-Flynn moans.”
“In your Liv-filled dreams.”
Still holding the towel, he finally let his gaze rove over her naked breasts. They perked up under his thorough examination.
“Not so far from the truth, that. But then you’ve never been out of my dreams for long.”