Intimate Seduction. Brenda JacksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
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She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him.
He looked back, and what he saw was a beautiful woman whose hair tumbled around a flushed face, and whose honey-brown eyes had a degree of warmth that symbolized a level of passion he rarely saw.
Enthralled, he held her gaze while his aroused body thickened with each breath he took, wanting more than anything to get naked and sink into the deep, luscious depths of her. He also had to deal with his tongue, the one that’d just spent an ample amount of time kissing her, renewing itself with her taste while imagining another taste he wanted to become familiar with. Her intimate taste. The thought of it made his sex surge and he knew she felt it when it did.
“You’re trying to seduce me,” she whispered as fragments of passion exploded bit by bit, inch by inch in his stomach from the sound of her voice. He was getting turned on even more seeing her lips move.
There was only one response he could give her, one of complete honesty. “Yes, I am trying to seduce you.” And then, helpless to do or say anything else at that moment, he lowered his head to kiss her again.
BRENDA JACKSON
is a die “heart” romantic who married her childhood sweetheart and still proudly wears the “going steady” ring he gave her when she was fifteen. Because she’s always believed in the power of love, Brenda’s stories always have happy endings. In her real-life love story, Brenda and her husband of thirty-eight years live in Jacksonville, Florida, and have two sons.
A New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than sixty romance titles, Brenda is retired from a major insurance company and now divides her time between family, writing and traveling with her husband, Gerald. You may write to Brenda at P.O. Box 28267, Jacksonville, Florida 32226, e-mail her at [email protected] or visit her Web site at www.brendajackson.net.
Intimate Seduction
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR
Brenda Jackson
To the love of my life, Gerald Jackson, Sr.
To everyone who enjoys reading about the Steeles.
This one is for you.
Dear Reader,
I knew when I introduced the Steele family that writing Donovan’s story would be a challenge. After all, he was the ultimate alpha man, who believed that love was not for him and that there was no woman who existed who could capture his heart.
Of course, I knew differently.
As Donovan watched his brothers and cousins marry, he was determined not to be included in that number. He was enjoying living the single life and didn’t see himself being tied down to any one woman. One of the reasons I enjoy writing romance stories is to show how a man like Donovan, who thinks he has it all figured out, can fall victim to love of the most intense kind.
I’m a true believer in love at first sight, but it’s hard to convert others. So I will continue to write those love stories where when someone least expects it, love can come knocking on their door…or, as in Donovan’s case, come sleeping in their bed.
And to answer all the e-mails I’ve received asking if Donovan’s story ends the Steele series, the answer is a resounding no. As in all families, there are other family members and I look forward to introducing you to more Steeles in the coming months.
I hope all of you enjoy reading Donovan and Natalie’s story.
Happy reading!
Brenda Jackson
Who can find a virtuous woman?
For her price is far above rubies.
—Proverbs 31:10
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 1
Donovan Steele opened the door to his home and walked inside with a huge smile on his face. Over the weekend in New Hampshire, his best friend from childhood, Bronson Scott, one of the most popular drivers for the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series, had placed in the top five.
Donovan was proud of Bronson’s success because Donovan, of all people, knew how hard his friend had worked to achieve it. Bronson was not only a skilled driver but was also a racer for the team he owned, Scott Motorsports. Donovan’s chest also swelled with pride at the fact that his family-owned business, the Steele Corporation, was a major sponsor of Scott Motorsports. That provided plenty of advertising for SC and offered Bronson the financial support he needed to pursue his lifelong dream.
Another reason for Donovan’s smile was that at the race he’d been among friends and had managed to unwind and not think about how busy the coming months would be for him back at the office. A new product under development at SC, the first in several years, had everyone excited; especially Donovan since he headed the Product Administration Division. But Gleeve-Ware, as it was called, had to be completed in time for the annual Product Trade Show being held in Toronto this November.
Instead of returning to Charlotte yesterday like he’d planned, he and a good friend from college, Uriel Lassiter, as well as two of his cousins from Phoenix—Galen and Tyson Steele—decided to stay an additional day to celebrate with Bronson and Myles Joseph, another good friend and a Scott Motorsports driver.
And then there had been Joanne Summerville, a racetrack groupie who’d come on to him after finding out about his close relationship to Bronson and the other drivers. Even now he could still picture her standing under the July sun in those skintight jeans and that sky-blue T-shirt that had stretched snugly across a pair of well-endowed breasts.
Joanne had been a looker, all right, and he regretted not taking her up on what she’d been offering. He hadn’t the time to squeeze in a short fling, no matter how tempting, and he could still see the sexy pout on her lips and the disappointment in her eyes when he’d turned her down. His only saving grace was that he figured he’d run into her again at a future race.
Donovan dropped his travel bag on the floor by the sofa instead of taking it upstairs to his bedroom. Due to an early flight out this morning, he’d missed breakfast and was hungry. He walked toward the kitchen, deciding that in desperate times even a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich sounded pretty good.
The moment Donovan walked into his kitchen he could tell his housekeeper had been there. Everything gleamed, from the stainless-steel appliances to the ceramic-tile floor. He appreciated the way she kept his house clean. He was a stickler when it came to neatness, but he also liked having a good time and had no desire to spend his weekends doing chores. He was too busy spending his time doing women.
It came as no surprise to those who knew him that he enjoyed and appreciated female company. There was no crime in that and at thirty-three, he enjoyed being single. He spent his time doing things he liked, which included a lot of traveling