The Davies Legacy, Book 2
Loving him can never be a sin…
Scion of a powerful dynasty, Antonios Davies has come home to take his rightful place as head of his family’s glittering New York auction house. But the returning soldier is haunted by memories of war…and the woman who has consumed his dreams for months.
Talia Adams fell in love with Tony in the sensual, intimate letters they exchanged while he was overseas. But the beautiful sculptor isn’t prepared for the seductive stranger who shows up on her doorstep…or the passion that’s sweeping them past the point of no return. Are they ready to let go of the past for the most passionate future imaginable?
THE DAVIES LEGACY
POWER. SECRETS. SEDUCTION.
Read an Excerpt
“I should have called first,” he told her.
“I didn't mean to surprise you.”
Her eyes crinkled at the corners, further scrambling his thoughts.
“Wonderful surprises are okay.”
“I'm, ah …I'm not dead.”
“That explains the whole walking and talking thing.”
He grinned, wondering when he'd last been this ridiculously inarticulate in a female's presence. Sixth grade?
“What I mean is—”
“I read about your ‘death' in the paper. And then a few weeks ago I read in the paper about your being a POW. It's a miracle that you escaped and made it back safely.”
“Oh,” he said, faltering.
Nothing chopped a man's ego down to size quicker than knowing that the woman he wanted was so disinterested in the news of his resurrection that she hadn't bothered to call or write. But of course she'd already made her position clear with that return-to-sender letter, hadn't she?
Still, it hurt. Like a spiked wrecking ball to his gut.
He was a big boy, though, and he'd get over it. He hadn't come all this way, physically and emotionally, to just go away quietly and give up on the idea of exploring a romantic relationship with her.
“So, yeah, I've been home for about a month.”
“Your brother and sister must be so thrilled.”
Did that mean that she wasn't thrilled?
A shadow crossed her face, telling him what was coming next. “Are you okay? I mean—physically?”
“Are you?” he asked.
He wasn't normally the needy type, but then he wasn't normally interested in a woman who knew if he was dead or alive only by reading the papers. Despite all his stern internal lectures about not getting his hopes up, he'd done exactly that, nursing all kinds of glorious reunion scenarios that ended with them tumbling into the nearest bed for a long and urgent interlude of getting-to-know-you. That probably wasn't going to happen. Big surprise, right? Worse, her growing polite coolness and his old dread—he was always dreading something—had him in a stranglehold.
“Are you glad, I mean?” he continued.
Her unabashed vehemence made him lose his head a little, and he reached for her.
He heard the husky vulnerability in his voice, but nothing mattered except the feel of her beautiful face between his palms—Christ, her skin was soft—and the need to feel her mouth moving against his. Her melting little sigh made his heart ache. He ducked his head, drowning in lust and need, and tipped her chin up to—
“I can't.” At the very last second, she stiffened and turned away.