Dirty Thoughts - Megan Erickson Page 0,96
deep desire to learn more about him and why he made her feel so out of sorts with what she thought was right.
Not that she would ever admit to that.
Who was she to garner the attention of this man? Women probably threw themselves at his feet and begged him to ruin them on a regular basis. That thought left her feeling cold. She eyed the door, longing for escape.
“Do not leave, Amelia.” He stepped closer to her, near enough that she could kiss him again if she so desired. She ignored that desire. “Work for me as we planned. Just stay.”
There was a kind of desolation in his voice at the thought of her abandoning him. But that was impossible. And she was reading too much into his request. Logically, she knew she couldn’t feel this sort of attachment to someone she had just met. Someone she didn’t really know.
“I am afraid of what I will do,” she admitted, more for herself than for him.
“Then do not think about it. Go with what your instincts tell you. If there is one thing I have always done, it is to follow my first inclination. I would not be in the position I am today, had I ignored those natural reflexes.”
He caressed her cheek again. She nearly nestled into his palm before realizing what she was doing. With a heavy sigh, she pulled away from him before she made any more mistakes. This was not a good way to start her first official day as his secretary.
She couldn’t help but ask. “And what do your instincts say about me?”
“I do not need my instincts to tell me where this is going. It is more base than that. I desire you. And there is nothing that can stop me from fulfilling and exploring what I want. You will be mine in the end, Amelia.”
Her heart picked up speed at his admission. Her breathing grew more rapid as she assessed him. She desired him too. She, Amelia Marie Somerset, who wanted nothing more than to escape one vile man’s sick craving to marry her and claim her, was willing to let the man in front of her ruin her, only because she felt different with him than she had with anyone else.
What would she lose of herself in the process of courting dangerous games with this man? Focusing on the hard angles of his face and the steady expression he wore, one thing was certain.
This man would ruin her.
And more startling was the realization that she would do nothing to stop him.
An Excerpt from
THE WEDDING GIFT
A Save the Date Novella
by Cara Connelly
In the next Save the Date novella, mousey Jan Marone finally allows herself to live, laugh, and love . . . with a sexy fireman during a weekend wedding in Key West!
“I’m sorry, ma’am, there’s nothing I can do.”
Jan Marone wrung her hands. “But I have a reservation.”
“I know, I’m looking at it right here.” The pretty blonde at the desk tapped her screen sympathetically. “I’ll refund your deposit immediately.”
“I don’t want my deposit. I want a room. My cousin’s getting married tomorrow, and I’m in the wedding.”
The girl spread her hands. “The problem is, when one of the upstairs tubs overflowed this morning, the ceiling collapsed on your room. It’s out of service for the weekend, and we’re booked solid.”
“I understand,” Jan said, struggling to remain polite. Hearing the same excuse three times didn’t make it easier to swallow. “How about a sister hotel?”
“We’re independently owned. Paradise Inn is the oldest hotel on the island—”
Jan held up a hand. She knew the spiel. The large, rambling guesthouse was unique, and very Old Key West. Which was exactly why she’d booked it.
“Can you at least help me find a room somewhere else?”
“It’s spring break. I’ll make some calls, but . . . ” A discouraging shrug and a gesture toward the coffeepot.
The girl didn’t seem very concerned, but Jan smiled at her anyway. “Thanks, I appreciate you trying.”
Parking her suitcase beside the coffee table, she surveyed the lobby wistfully. The windows and doors stood open, the wicker furniture and abundant potted plants blurring the line between indoors and out. The warm, humid breeze drifted through the airy space. Her parched Boston skin soaked it up like a sponge.
To a woman who’d never left New England before, it spelled tropical vacation. And it was slipping through her fingers like sand.
Growing ever gloomier, she wandered out through a side door and into a lush tropical