Page 7 of My Reluctant Valentine

His smile is pure predator. "Name them."

"This stays professional. No actual dating, no real feelings, no--"

He cuts me off by pulling me against him, one hand tangling in my hair."Sorry, darlin', but if we're gonna sell this..."

His mouth crashes into mine, and every thought of conditions and rules goes up in smoke.He kisses like he owns me, like he's been waiting to do this since the moment he walked into my classroom, and God help me, I kiss him back.

When he finally pulls away, the River Kings are gone.But the damage is done. Half the bar is staring, phones already out, and I know by morning the whole town will be talking.

"Was that really necessary?" I try to sound angry, but my voice comes out breathless.

"Sweetheart." He tucks a curl behind my ear, his touch surprisingly gentle."If we're gonna play this game, we need to make it convincing.Nothing in this town stays secret for long.And no smart club member in a 50-mile radius will step to a woman known to be mine without a death wish."

"I hate you." But there's no heat in it.

"No, you don't." He stands, pulling me up with him."Come on. I'll drive you home.We can discuss those conditions of yours on the way."

"I have my owncar."

"And now you have a man with a motorcycle." His grin iswicked."Better get used to it, MissLeslie.For the next month, you're allmine."

God help me, what have I just agreedto?

He leads me out of the bar with a firm hand in place on my lower back, and for the first time in six months, I'm not checking theexits.

I just hope I haven't traded one dangerous man foranother.

4

ACE

Eight o'clock the following morning finds me outside Leslie's cottage, debating whether a head's up text might've been the smarter play.But since when do I do smart when it comes to a woman that intrigues me?Last night's kiss, the way she melted against me, and how perfectly she fit in my arms is still burning in my memory.Fake relationship my ass. That kiss was as real as it gets.

I knock before I can talk myself out of it.At first, nothing happens, but then there are footsteps and a muffled curse.The door opens, and every coherent thought in my head disappears.

Because Miss Leslie, who strives to give off prim and proper, is standing there in a scrap of black lace that barely qualifies as a nightgown.Sure, a silk robe is thrown over it, but it does absolutely nothing to hide what's underneath.Her hair's a wild mess of curls, and Christ, I want to bury my hands in it.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" She clutches the robe tighter, but the damage is done.That image is burned into my brain forever.

"Time for breakfast." I force my eyes back to her face."Get dressed. I'm taking you out."

"Has anyone ever told you you're incredibly bossy?"

"Daily. Usually followed by 'yes sir.'"

She rolls those gorgeous eyes."Well, this isn't your clubhouse, sir, and I had plans today."

"What plans?"

"Sleep. Wine. Avoiding reality."

"Reality's already here, darlin'.Might as well face it with pancakes."

She studies me for a moment, then sighs."Ten minutes."

"Five."

"Seven, and you make coffee while you wait."

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