Indecent Proposal...
Indecent
Proposal
Manwhore. That's what the board of
directors-and the tabloids-thinks of billionaire bachelor Reese Crane.
Ordinarily he couldn't care less, but his playboy past is preventing the board
from naming him CEO of Crane Hotels. Nothing-and no one-will keep him from his
life's legacy. They want a settled man to lead the company? Then that's exactly
what he'll give them.
Merina Van Heusen will do anything
to get her parents' funky boutique hotel back-even marry
cold-as-ice-but-sexy-as-hell Reese Crane. It's a simple business contract-six
months of marriage, absolute secrecy, and the Van Heusen is all hers again. But
when sparks fly between them, their passion quickly moves from the boardroom to
the bedroom. And soon Merina is living her worst nightmare: falling in love
with her husband . . .
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Even
with her nostrils flared, Merina forced a smile. There was only one way past
this gatekeeper. She called up an ounce of poise—an ounce being the most she
could access at the moment. “Merina Van Heusen to see Reese Crane.”
“Ms.
Van Heusen,” the woman said, her tone flat, her eyes going to the doorknob in
Merina’s hand. “You’re here regarding the changes to the hotel, I presume.”
“You
got it,” Merina said, barely harnessing her anger. How come everyone was so
damn calm about dismantling a town landmark?
“Have
a seat.” Crane’s bulldog gestured one manicured hand at a group of cushy white
chairs, her mouth frowning in disgust as she took in Merina’s dishevelment.
“Perhaps I could fetch you a towel first.”
“I
won’t be sitting.” She wasn’t about to be put in her place by Reese’s
underling. Then her prayers were answered as the set of gleaming wooden doors
behind the secretary’s desk parted like the Red Sea.
Jackpot.
Merina
barreled forward as the woman at the desk barked, “Excuse me!”
Merina
ignored her. She wouldn’t be delayed another second…or so she thought. She
stopped short when a woman in a very tight red dress, the neckline plunging
into plentiful cleavage, her heels even higher and potentially more expensive
than Merina’s Louboutins, swept out of the office and gave her a slow,
mascaraed blink back. Then she sashayed around Merina, past the bulldog, and
left behind a plume of perfume.
Interesting.
Reese’s
latest date? An escort? If Merina believed the local tabloids, one and the
same. Paying for dates certainly wasn’t above his pay grade.
Before
the doors closed, she slipped into Reese’s office.
“Ms.
Van Heusen!” came a bark behind her, but Reese, who stood facing the windows
and looking out upon downtown, said three words that instantly shut his
secretary up.
“She’s
fine, Bobbie.”
Merina
smirked back at the sour-faced, coal-eyed secretary as Reese’s office doors
whooshed shut.
“Merina,
I presume.” Reese still hadn’t turned. His posture was straight, jacket and
slacks impeccably tailored to his muscular, perfectly proportioned body. Shark
or not, the man could wear a suit. She’d seen the photos of him in the Trib as well as Luxury Stays, the hotel industry’s leading trade magazine, and like
every other woman in Chicago, she hadn’t missed the gossip about him online.
Like his more professional photos, his hands were sunk into his pant pockets,
and his wavy, dark hair was styled and perfect.
Clearly
the woman who had just left was here on other business…or past business. If
something more clandestine was going on, Reese would appear more mussed. Then
again, he probably didn’t muss his hair during sex. From what she gleaned about
him via the media, Reese probably didn’t allow
his hair to muss.
The
snarky thought paired with a vision of him out of that suit, stalking naked and
primed, golden muscles shifting with each long-legged step. Sharp, navy eyes
focused only on her…
He
turned to face her and she snapped out of her imaginings and blinked at the
stubble covering a perfectly angled jaw. What was it about that hint of
dishevelment on his otherwise perfect visage that made her breath catch?
Thick
dark brows jumped slightly as his eyes zoomed in on her chest.
She
sneered before venturing a glance down at her sodden silk shirt. Where she saw
the perfect outline of both nipples. A tinge of heat lit her cheeks, and she
crossed her arms haughtily, glaring at him as best she could while battling
embarrassment.
“Seems
this April morning is colder than you anticipated,” he drawled.
A former job-hopper, Jessica Lemmon resides in Ohio
with her husband and rescue dog. She holds a degree in graphic design currently
gathering dust in an impressive frame. When she’s not writing super-sexy
heroes, she can be found cooking, drawing, drinking coffee (okay, wine), and
eating potato chips. She firmly believes God gifts us with talents for a
purpose, and with His help, you can create the life you want.
A Print Set of RESCUING THE BAD BOY and RETURN
OF THE BAD BOY, along with a $10 Starbucks Gift Card
Thank you for featuring THE BILLIONAIRE BACHELOR
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