wanted this brave, strong, honest man. And she couldn’t walk away.
“Let’s just take it…each day.” She half sobbed and took that last step into his embrace.
His arms wrapped around her, bringing her home. His lips brushed her forehead for the briefest of seconds as they had that first day when she’d bumped it. Then he lifted her face to his and kissed her. She didn’t open her eyes again for a long, long time. But when she did she saw he had the satisfied look of a successful man who’d won what he wanted. Her heart soared as he whispered his promise.
“ Every day.”
A preview of SEDUCTION IN SILVER , the second novella in the FLIRTING TO WIN trilogy!
Chapter One
Nina Breslin gripped the long strap of her handbag, determined not to give herself away. As it was, her abs were tauter than Superman’s and the heels of her nude summer pumps clipped along the concrete at an accelerated pace. Though that could be explained away by necessary haste, right? She had a train to catch.
He shouldn’t be there. Until now, she’d only seen him in front of his building weekdays and well before the commuter rush. But today was Sunday, mid–morning. And it wasn’t his usual corporate casual chinos but ink-blue jeans that encased his long legs— lovingly . Even more arresting was the form-fitting gray, long-sleeved tee that skimmed his flat abs and disappeared into those low-slung, leather-belted jeans. That’s why she had to grip her bag strap so hard, because the tee revealed what his more formal shirts hadn’t—his ripped strength. The breadth of his shoulders and the curves of his biceps, triceps, and those other muscles she didn’t know the names of were clearly discernible. Not too-much-protein-powder bulky—they were in proportion to his long limbs and he clearly worked them. Yeah, his physical blessings—and he had plenty—were honed to max their potential. He looked like the statue of an ancient Greek athlete come to life.
But while his tall, striking presence commanded attention, he didn’t offer the same courtesy in return. Instead, he stood aloof, never directly engaging with those so irresistibly drawn to admire his masculine perfection—i.e., everyone. He epitomized the arrogance she avoided outside of work. She had to deal with his kind all day. Intelligent, successful men who had it all—who’d go blow stupid amounts of money on champagne in lap bars at lunchtime. But with his aura of untouchability, this one took it to a whole other level. Without words or movement, he kept that remote distance—emphasizing his place in an upper echelon. No doubt he had extreme success in it all—looks, wealth, work, and of course, sex.
But she wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of knowing he had yet another female fanning herself in the corner as she watched him. And she was most definitely not succumbing to the urge to run her hand through her hair, despite the awareness tingling over her scalp.
She’d read the body language book only yesterday during the few quiet spells at work. Heavy on diagrams, it hadn’t taken long to read through the “winning sales techniques” section that was supposed to help up her commission during her last week before hiding out on the Continent. But of course, she’d flipped to the “courtship and mating” signals section straight after, because sometimes a girl needed to be armed with info of the “Is he into you” variety—especially when one’s perception was as far removed from reality as hers was. So now she knew why she had the urge to preen, but she wasn’t going to succumb to it. It’d be a waste of energy, anyway. For two weeks, she’d passed him every morning on her way to the Baker Street Tube station and he’d not once glanced her way.
She was stupidly piqued by that—another nail in her self-confidence coffin. He wasn’t her type—truly—but even so, part of her wanted him to notice. She pushed feminine hormones and pride aside. She
“Let’s just take it…each day.” She half sobbed and took that last step into his embrace.
His arms wrapped around her, bringing her home. His lips brushed her forehead for the briefest of seconds as they had that first day when she’d bumped it. Then he lifted her face to his and kissed her. She didn’t open her eyes again for a long, long time. But when she did she saw he had the satisfied look of a successful man who’d won what he wanted. Her heart soared as he whispered his promise.
“ Every day.”
A preview of SEDUCTION IN SILVER , the second novella in the FLIRTING TO WIN trilogy!
Chapter One
Nina Breslin gripped the long strap of her handbag, determined not to give herself away. As it was, her abs were tauter than Superman’s and the heels of her nude summer pumps clipped along the concrete at an accelerated pace. Though that could be explained away by necessary haste, right? She had a train to catch.
He shouldn’t be there. Until now, she’d only seen him in front of his building weekdays and well before the commuter rush. But today was Sunday, mid–morning. And it wasn’t his usual corporate casual chinos but ink-blue jeans that encased his long legs— lovingly . Even more arresting was the form-fitting gray, long-sleeved tee that skimmed his flat abs and disappeared into those low-slung, leather-belted jeans. That’s why she had to grip her bag strap so hard, because the tee revealed what his more formal shirts hadn’t—his ripped strength. The breadth of his shoulders and the curves of his biceps, triceps, and those other muscles she didn’t know the names of were clearly discernible. Not too-much-protein-powder bulky—they were in proportion to his long limbs and he clearly worked them. Yeah, his physical blessings—and he had plenty—were honed to max their potential. He looked like the statue of an ancient Greek athlete come to life.
But while his tall, striking presence commanded attention, he didn’t offer the same courtesy in return. Instead, he stood aloof, never directly engaging with those so irresistibly drawn to admire his masculine perfection—i.e., everyone. He epitomized the arrogance she avoided outside of work. She had to deal with his kind all day. Intelligent, successful men who had it all—who’d go blow stupid amounts of money on champagne in lap bars at lunchtime. But with his aura of untouchability, this one took it to a whole other level. Without words or movement, he kept that remote distance—emphasizing his place in an upper echelon. No doubt he had extreme success in it all—looks, wealth, work, and of course, sex.
But she wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of knowing he had yet another female fanning herself in the corner as she watched him. And she was most definitely not succumbing to the urge to run her hand through her hair, despite the awareness tingling over her scalp.
She’d read the body language book only yesterday during the few quiet spells at work. Heavy on diagrams, it hadn’t taken long to read through the “winning sales techniques” section that was supposed to help up her commission during her last week before hiding out on the Continent. But of course, she’d flipped to the “courtship and mating” signals section straight after, because sometimes a girl needed to be armed with info of the “Is he into you” variety—especially when one’s perception was as far removed from reality as hers was. So now she knew why she had the urge to preen, but she wasn’t going to succumb to it. It’d be a waste of energy, anyway. For two weeks, she’d passed him every morning on her way to the Baker Street Tube station and he’d not once glanced her way.
She was stupidly piqued by that—another nail in her self-confidence coffin. He wasn’t her type—truly—but even so, part of her wanted him to notice. She pushed feminine hormones and pride aside. She
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