Excerpt

Though he’d been blindsided by news of this so-called

book project, Andrew had already started to recover and

to scheme. First on his agenda was getting rid of this

woman, which was a shame.

The fascinating and beautiful Viveca Jackson, still

flushed with embarrassment, didn’t look any too happy to

be alone with him, nor did she look as if she wanted to hop

the next plane back to New York, but he didn’t care.

Life as he knew it was at stake, and he would kill or die

before he let this woman discover the truth. The secret he

had to protect at all costs—he wasn’t the Warner heir. Hell,

he wasn’t even a Warner.

His grandmother didn’t know. If she did, she’d most

likely disown him in favor of his cousin Eric, her favorite.

Only Bishop knew his secret.

Everything Andrew had, and was, hung in the balance.

WarnerBrands International, the company he’d nurtured and

developed. His job as CEO. His inheritance of ninety million,

give or take. His power, prestige and birthright. All could be

gone in the blink of Viveca Jackson’s pretty brown eye.

He’d never let that happen.

Though the job and the lifestyle had begun to suck him

dry, he would never let them go. He was Andrew Warner,

corporate titan, WarnerBrand International’s savior, and

that was all he was. Being Andrew Warner was his only

reason for taking up space on the planet.

Fighting was in his blood, tainted though it was. So was

winning. Diplomacy could work, though, so he’d give

peace a chance…for about five minutes. Then he’d take off

the kid gloves if he had to. One way or the other, though,

he was throwing Viveca’s shapely little butt back on a

plane before the sun set tonight.

And that was unfortunate because, had circumstances

been different, he would have liked to have gotten to know

her much better.

To say he’d been surprised to look up and see her, poorly

hidden behind the curtains, watching Brenda grope him,

would be the understatement of the year. More surprising

had been the naked heat he’d felt radiating from her in waves,

as if she wished she’d been the one doing the groping.

They’d stared at each other for the longest, most sexually charged

moment of his life. He’d caught a shadowy,

unsatisfying glimpse of her wide eyes and pretty face.

He’d seen enough of her ripe, curvy figure to see that it

was shorter and fuller than Brenda’s, but also God-given

and not store-bought.

For that one moment out of time, he’d fantasized that

the hand and bare breasts pressed so tightly against him

had belonged to her, whoever she was.

The want had only intensified when he saw Viveca up

close and got a good look at her numerous and remarkable

assets. She had smooth caramel skin he desperately wanted

to taste. A tumble of black corkscrew curls he wanted to

touch. Dark cat eyes he wanted to make glaze over and

close with ecstasy. Perfectly bowed lips he wanted to kiss

and bite. A fantastic bounty hidden under that demure suit

he wanted to claim.

But it wasn’t meant to be. He had to get rid of her. Now.

Her fine brows flattened into a frown, and she abandoned her fake, sugary

smile. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about—”

“Then you can just listen.”

“—and if you have something to say it can wait until

later, can’t it? It’s not polite to—”

“Polite?” Intrigued, he gave in to the impulse to ruffle

her feathers. “You didn’t seem all that worried about

manners a few minutes ago when you were spying on my

little, ah, private moment with Brenda.”

Bingo. Her color rose until she looked as if she burned

with a hundred-and-five-degree fever. She probably

wanted to slink off and hide behind the sofa, but he knew,

even before she raised her chin in defiance, that she was

too proud to ever let him best her.

“I’m sorry about that.” Her voice was cool with righteous disdain. 

“If I’d known I was stumbling onto a peep show, I wouldn’t have

glanced out at the pool.”

“You barely knew there was a pool out there.” He took

a large step forward, breaching the invisible boundaries

that surrounded her like a barbed-wire fence, and enjoyed

the flare of panic behind her bright eyes even as she stood

her ground. “Your attention was focused on other things,

wasn’t it?”

She winced but recovered quickly. “Not really.” Taking

all the time in the world, a study in nonchalance, she

turned, picked up one of the framed family portraits from

the side table and examined it. “I was just wondering if

Brenda’s, ah, assets work as flotation devices in the pool.”

Audacity was, unfortunately, a quality he admired, as

was courage. She seemed to have both in spades, and that

attracted and irritated him.

“Really?” Trying not to smile, he needled her because

she was so easy to provoke and so…unexpected. “I

could’ve sworn you were staring at me, not Brenda.”

Though she kept her head lowered over the picture, she

went perfectly still and he knew his sharp little arrow had

hit the bull’s-eye again. She replaced the photo, and her

gaze, furious and glittering now, flickered back up to his.

“You’re very obnoxious, aren’t you?”

“I say what I want.” If she expected him to apologize,

she could forget it. “I get what I want. Period. Remember

that.”

“Well, what do you want to talk about that’s so important?” Abandoning

all pretext of playing nice, she perched on the edge of the sofa,

her back rigid, and glared.

“Well, Viveca.” He sat on the chair nearest her, stretched

out his legs and studied his nails. “As I mentioned earlier,

I think this whole book project is a stupid idea and I want

you to drop it.”

“No.”

“Why would you want to do it, anyway?” He needed to

learn anything he could about her. “Working in New York

at the Times has to be much more exciting.”

“I’ve taken a leave of absence. I like writing nonfiction,

and I’d like to move my career in that direction. This book

is a huge coup for me. Any other questions?”

“What about the rest of your life?” A strange, unwelcome knot

tightened in his gut as a new thought occurred

to him. “Don’t you have a husband or boyfriend—”

“My personal life is none of your business.”

Annoyance surged. His position—as heir to a fortune

and CEO of a Fortune 1000 company—entitled him to a

certain amount of respect, and he usually got it. One

quirked brow from him was generally enough to make

men and women alike snivel like children. Why didn’t

she? Who was she that she thought she could talk to him

this way in his grandmother’s house?

“I don’t see any rings. And if you were with me I

wouldn’t let you—”

“Let me? I’m a grown woman, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Oh, he’d noticed. Her beautiful face and generous

bosom, heaving now with anger, were constant reminders.

So was her faint, exotic scent, which reminded him of fruit,

like Brenda’s, but was otherwise a world apart. Brenda

smelled like apples and cucumbers, but Viveca smelled

like mangoes, coconuts and something more sensuous.

Resisting the strong urge to follow his nose into her hair

or the smooth column of her neck was becoming harder

by the second.

The frustration and deprivation pissed him off.

“Go home to New York.” His jaw flexed and his teeth

ground down around the words he didn’t really want to say.

“Work on something else.”

“No.” She got up and walked to the door.

He stood, too, and scanned through his limited options.

Talking to his grandmother again would do no good, and

if he knew anything at all about the Silver Fox, which he

did, it would only make her dig in her heels even more.

Ditto with trying to reason with Viveca. But…maybe

throwing a little money at the problem would make it go

away. Money spoke volumes, and he had plenty to spend.

“A hundred thousand.”

Pausing, one heeled foot over the threshold into the

hall, and one foot still in the library, she looked back at

him. “Excuse me?”

“You can’t be making that much as a reporter. I’ll pay

you a hundred K to drop the project. You can take the next

plane out and be home by dinner.”

It took her a while to get her jaw off the floor and

splutter her outraged answer, but it finally came. “Maybe

you’re not up on current events, but I just told you I’m

going to do the book.”

“Two hundred, then.”

Her searching gaze, narrowed and sharp, intensified.

“Let me get this straight. You’re willing to write me a

check for two hundred thousand dollars just to get me to

go away? Just like that?”

“That’s right.”

“Why not three?”

Irritation tied all his muscles into tight little pulsating

knots, but blowing up at her was not an option, no matter

how badly he wanted to. If he lost his temper, she’d write

the damn book just to spite him.

“Think of everything you could do with this money,

Viveca.” He kept his voice reasonable and soothing.

“Travel. Save. Buy a vacation house in the Hamptons.”

She tilted her head, studying him, and he started to

believe she was actually considering his proposal. But

then one side of her mouth hitched up into a disquieting,

calculating smile. His hopes sank.

“No one’s ever tried to bribe me before. It makes me

wonder what you’re hiding.”

Keeping his face blank while he lied, not blinking or

looking away from that piercing, brown-eyed gaze, was

one of the hardest things he’d ever done. “I’m not hiding

anything. I just think my grandmother isn’t quite up to a

project like this at her age.”

“Is that right?”

“She had that heart attack last year, and I think she’s

biting off more than she can chew. And I don’t trust you not

to sensationalize our story to try to sell a few extra books.”

The half smile slipped from her face and was replaced

by a glare so chilling he was amazed he didn’t see little

puffs of steam from her breath when she spoke again.

“There’s something you should know about me, Andrew.” She squared

her shoulders and enunciated each syllable with military precision.

“I don’t take bribes. Here’s something else you should know. I don’t back down

from challenges. Oh, and here’s one more thing. You’re

really pissing me off.”

He watched her with anger, fascination and unwilling admiration. She was

quite a woman, and he was sorry they were on opposite sides of this issue.

Long after he’d put her on a plane back to New York, he’d wonder what those lips

tasted like, how soft her thighs were and what she’d say

next.

“I like you, Viveca.” He meant it, and it wasn’t just the

lust talking, either, which disturbed him. He crept closer,

irresistibly drawn to those wide, dark eyes. “You’re heading

down the wrong path with this book, and I’m going to stop

you, one way or the other, but it’s not personal.”

“I don’t care whether you like me or not.”

He laughed, both because he couldn’t help it and because he

couldn’t remember when he’d had this much fun sparring with someone.

Viveca’s breath hitched and her gaze lingered on his

face—his mouth—giving him the small satisfaction of

knowing that underneath the cool facade, she wasn’t immune to him.

More than that, she wanted him. He’d seen the signs

often enough in his life to know what they meant—her

breathlessness, bright eyes and husky voice all screamed

that she wanted him, even if she didn’t like him.

Realizing this, and considering how explosive a night

in bed with Viveca Jackson would be, his secret suddenly

seemed less important.

He inched closer. He noticed the way her breasts heaved

as she tried to get her erratic breathing under control, and

need tightened his gut.

“Any other time, Viveca, I’d really enjoy getting you to

like me, too.” 

“What’s to like?”

Laughing again, he said, “Most women can find

something.”

“Yes, well, I’m not most women, and I’m certainly

not Brenda—”

“I can see that.”

“—and your little smile doesn’t work with me.”

“You noticed my smile?”

He knew this was another direct hit because her cheeks

flamed. His mind, which was having a very difficult time

staying on task this morning, veered off again.

So much passion in this one woman. Right now she’d

like to use it to smash his grinning face, sure, but what

other uses could he find for it?

“I’m leaving.” She brushed by him on her way to the door.

That inadvertent but electrifying contact with Andrew’s

body sealed her fate. Rational thought went out the window,

replaced by hot lust and blind need. If there was

some option available to him other than touching her, he

couldn’t think what it was.

“No, you’re not.”

Reaching out, he caught her arm and swung her lightly

around. The momentum brought her up against his chest,

and he greedily latched on, holding tight around her waist

and ignoring her startled squeak.

Reeling, intoxicated with the feel of her, he tried to think.

“Viveca…I really need to…”

The words trailed off because it was way too hard to

speak when she was in his arms. Lowering his head until

his lips hovered half an inch from hers, he spent a moment

drowning in her wide, surprised eyes. Her hot, sweet breath

feathered his mouth as she panted. Realizing he’d made her

that excited, he hardened to full readiness and waited. 

He wouldn’t take; she had to give.

After a moment’s hesitation, she closed her eyes and

surrendered.

When she mewled helplessly and tipped her chin up that

last fraction of an inch to meet him, he shuddered with

triumph and the kind of raw excitement that could knock

a grown man to his knees.

Before she could change her mind, he kissed her.

ISBN-10: 0373860870

ISBN-13: 978-0373860876

Copyright 2008 by Sally Young Moore

® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher.

The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

For more information, go to http://www.eHarlequin.com