Fans of Eloisa James & Julia Quinn discussion
Monday Puzzler
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June 20, 2012: A Hero in Disguise
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Sounds like romantic suspense so I'm definitely lost!
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It's TAKE ME TONIGHT by Roxanne St. Clair. A great series--and not only for lovers of romantic suspense, as Janga's love of the series can attest:)
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No, I think the first one is TEMPT ME TWICE. (Though that's off the top of my head and could be wrong.) I think you could read TAKE ME TONIGHT without being lost. And IIRC it's one of the earlier ones in the series.
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Remember, you can comment on the passage but don't give away the answer so that everyone else has a chance to play.
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“Fine” would be an excellent way to describe the man in front of her stove. Sage sat at the open counter that separated the kitchen from the living area, studying the fine shape of him, the fine movements of an artist at work, the fine beauty of a man built for every imaginable pleasure.
All very fine.
She sipped her red wine, nearly draining the glass. It was her second since they’d gotten back, when he’d produced a small duffle bag from the trunk of his car, taken a shower, and changed into jeans and a T-shirt. All she’d done was drink the wine he’d uncorked and then watch him prepare his feast.
Since he entered the kitchen, he’d done a running commentary on olive oil, and how the heel of a hand and a sharp knife were the only garlic press needed by any man or woman. All the while, he’d sliced and diced and soaked half a loaf of bread in broth, and sautéed tomatoes until the pungent scent filled the apartment.
He went way past fine. He slid right into exquisite, extraordinary and exceptional. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he was…something else? Like, not a prostitute?
“Would you seriously consider calling my friend Dr. Garron about the job at the Ritz?” she asked, lifting her glass.
“I told you, I’ll call tomorrow.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Can I be your boyfriend then?”
She choked so hard the chianti went up her nose.
“I’m gonna take that as a no.”
Wiping her mouth, she laughed. “I don’t want a boyfriend.”
“You sure? I cook.”
“I see that. I smell that.”
“Wait’ll you taste that.”
She smiled, wrapping her fingers around the stem and setting her chin on the wide rim of the goblet. “But woman cannot live by food alone.”
“I do other stuff.”
A shudder twisted through her. “Yeah.”
His shoulders dropped just a little, a gesture she couldn’t miss in the fitted black T-shirt. She let her eyes roam over the V shape of his back, the perfect male roundness of his rear, the long, muscular legs. Her boyfriend. Now there was a thought. “Wouldn’t you like to have a different job?”
He set a spoon on the counter and turned from the sizzling pan, his look as intense as the aroma of bay leaves and basil. “What a person does or did in his profession doesn’t dictate who they are.”
His eyes were dark with something she couldn’t name. Oh, yeah she could. Shame. The impact wrenched her heart, and she pushed her response way back down. He was salvageable, this fine man. Redeemable.
Oh, what was she doing? “You know, I have way too much to think about,” she said quickly, “to worry about your business.”
“Yep, you do.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of the fear in Vivian’s face and the sound of someone hitting Ashley.
Whores must die.
“Let’s start figuring it out,” he suggested. “Together.”
She leaned back on the stool, surprised by how much she wanted him to help her, and believed that he could. “Okay. Square one. The suicide. If it was a suicide.”
“You don’t think those index cards full of insecurities sort of confirm that?” he asked, finally picking up his glass of wine for a sip. He turned from the stove, the drink suspended. “Or the fact that she had an abortion.”
“Maybe Glenda just said that to torture me.”
He frowned over the glass as he drank. “She’s a sicko, then. But you need to find out if Keisha really had an abortion. It’s a starting place.”
“I don’t think information like that is readily available to the public.”
He regarded her for a minute, then turned back to the sizzling tomatoes. “I might be able to pull some strings and get some information.”
He didn’t see her dubious look. The guy was so sweet. Helpful, nurturing, except for that gun he whipped out on special occasions. She didn’t want to tell him she doubted that he could get the information. For all she knew, he could. “And what about Vivian? Why do you think she’s so defensive?”
A cell phone beeped from his belt and something indefinable changed in his body language. “I’m going to take this,” he said quickly. “Outside.”
She popped off the bar stool. “No need to leave. I’m going to take a shower.”
He gave her an appreciative nod, then answered the phone with a simple “Yo.”
Yo? She slowed her step into the hall, her ears trained on the kitchen. He said nothing for a moment, then, “Can’t really talk now.”
Who was it? A woman? A job? She forced herself to hurry into her room and close the door loudly enough for him to hear, fighting the unfamiliar sensation of jealousy. Was that really what was making her stomach burn? Jealousy over a male prostitute?
Oh, please.
She made the shower extra hot, clipping up her hair so she could let the stream pound her back. She still tingled from the heat when she dressed in a cropped tank top and jeans, wet tendrils dripping water down her nape. She brushed on a coat of mascara and followed her nose back to the kitchen, where indescribable aromas wafted, along with HERO’s low-pitched voice. Her bare feet made no sound on the hardwood floor, so she cleared her throat to announce herself.
“Don’t worry, Lu —” He froze at the sight of her, then gave her a wide, sexy grin. “Except for the electric stove, I could be in love. Catch you later, hon.”
She smiled. It would have been impossible not to.
“Who was that?”
“My boss.” At her look, he reached out and curled his fingers around her wrist, drawing her close.
“Look how pretty you are, all squeaky clean.”
“You call your boss hon?”
“I call lots of women that.” With his left hand, he tucked the phone into his pocket.
“So you work for a woman? A woman runs that company, Fantasy Adventures?” She couldn’t keep the skepticism out of her voice.
“One runs my area,” he said, leaning in and taking a whiff of her hair. “Mmmm. It’s mango season.”
“Did you ask any questions? About Keisha?”
“I did, and I even have them checking on Vivian Masters. I want to know if she was ever a client.” Like it was the most natural thing in the world, he pressed a kiss on her damp neck. “Maybe give us a clue to why she acted so weird.”
For a minute, she couldn’t speak. She just felt the air slide out of her lungs. “You know, you are so nice.”
He nibbled his way to her ear and tickled her lobe with his tongue when he got there. “Does that mean I can be your boyfriend?”
She laughed, sliding one hand around him, letting her breasts press against his chest. “You can be my friend, how’s that?”
His tongue dipped into her ear, sending shock waves down her body. He pulled her tighter, his chest was like carved marble pressing against her. She closed her eyes, tilted her head, and tried to remember to breathe.
“Okay, my friend.” His voice was raspy, close.
“Taste this.”
She parted her lips, ready to taste his tongue and temptation again.
Something hot and tangy and juicy slid between her lips. She moaned at the flavor of spice and sweet, the incredible softness that oozed through her mouth. Her eyes popped open. “Oh, what is that?”
“Comfort.” A drop dribbled down her chin. He licked it off. “You need some.”
God, did she ever. The fiery tip of his tongue touched the corner of her mouth. She managed to swallow, the mix of flavors and textures dancing in her mouth. She wanted more. More comfort. More taste. More HERO.
She tipped her head and kissed him like a starving woman.