Que les jeux commencent… Wicked Women On Top
Que les jeux commencent…
(Wicked Women on Top)
J’ai Lu • 13 avril 2006
by Tina Donahue, Jen Nicholas and Jordan Summers
These women are smart. In-control. Nobody’s fool. Definitely on top. But desire doesn’t always go according to plan, and sometimes, there’s nothing more delicious than losing control to a wicked passion that takes you by sexy surprise…
Enquête très privée
Un soir de réveillon, Brandon Walker surprend une cambrioleuse et reconnaît celle qui a enflammé sa jeunesse. Détective, Clara est sur la piste d’un malfrat. En retrouvant la jolie rouquine, Brandon pressent qu’il n’y aura pas que l’enquête qui sera corsée…
She had to be the worst thief he’d ever seen.
Brandon Walker hasn’t set eyes on Cara Martin in over ten years. When he catches a shapely woman attempting to break into his colleague’s home files during a company Christmas party, he does what any healthy, sexually potent male would do-he takes advantage of the situation. The floor drops out from under his feet when he realizes the thief’s identity.
Cara Martin is no thief; she’s trying her best to become a private investigator. But it’s hard to seem credible when you’re on your hands and knees staring at someone’s navel-especially when the navel belongs to the man who has occupied most of her fantasies for the past fourteen years. Before she has a chance to explain her position, she finds herself whisked away, shoved into a closet, and kissed senseless.
Cara has imagined what it would be like to kiss Brandon Walker her whole life, but when his lips melt over hers like fresh cream butter on a piping hot scone, it doesn’t take a nuclear scientist to know she’s in trouble.
Brandon ‘s mind is in turmoil. One minute he’s on the fast track to success at the Kazman, Williams, & Blake law firm. The next, he’s discovered in a closet by his colleague Bill Cavanaugh, breathless, and in a compromising position with the one woman Brandon can never have-his best friend’s kid sister.
Read an Excerpt
“Take your clothes off.”
“Excuse me?” Cara swung her flashlight around, her gaze bulleting to Brandon ’s face. He couldn’t be serious. Under the beam, his chiseled features were hard—unyielding.
Brandon loosened his tie. “We don’t have time to argue,” he growled in frustration. “Do as I say, Cavanaugh will be here any second.”
“How do you know it’s him?”
He looked at her as if she were dense. “Who else would it be? The party is downstairs, or hadn’t you noticed?”
The click of a switch sent light streaking in through the crack of the door. They both stilled instantly, listening. He was here. Cara shoved her flashlight into a nearby jacket pocket, before once again facing Brandon.
She leaned close and whispered, “It wasn’t my idea to hide in the closet.”
“No, it was your idea to break into his office the night of the corporate Christmas party,” he hissed.
“What were you thinking?”
“Oh shut up, he’s going to hear us.”
Footsteps padded across the carpeted floor, drawing nearer to their hiding place. Papers shuffled. He must have stopped at his desk, which meant he hadn’t noticed the open closet door yet.
“Take your clothes off now.” Brandon ’s teeth clenched and his green eyes narrowed in warning.
“No!” She shook her head. “There has to be another way.” Cara stepped back, her hand brushing against the Italian silk jackets hanging in the cedar-scented closet. She set her purse down on a shelved ledge.
With speed that contradicted his large size, Brandon moved, reaching for her cashmere sweater. A quick flick of the wrist and he’d managed to pull the material over her head, before tossing it onto the floor.
Cara gasped in disbelief. “I said no.”
Deft fingers reached behind her. She heard a faint click a second before her bra straps slid from her shoulders, spilling her full breasts into the charged air. “You assh—” Before the curse could leave her lips Brandon swept her into his arms, crushing her against his hard chest, his mouth crashing down upon hers in a punishing kiss.
The second their mouths impacted, Cara’s world tilted. Hard met soft, wet melded with dry. Her lids fell as warmth spread throughout her body like a wildfire left unchecked, singeing her senses, scoring her mind. Her nipples beaded against the scrape of his dress shirt, leaving her wanting.
Brandon ’s tongue dipped, teasing, drawing her to him. Before she could stop her response, Cara wound her arms around his neck, sinking her fingers into his thick whiskey-colored hair.
Masculine spice mixed with the sweet champagne he’d been drinking earlier, intoxicating her. Making her forget where they were, why they were there, and who she was with. Their bodies pressed together as muscles locked.
The closet door wrenched open, sending glaring light into the small space. Cara’s eyes flew open, the bright light blinding her for a second. Brandon stepped back from the embrace just enough to look at the intruder, but not leave Cara exposed, his ragged breathing as uncontrolled as her own.
“What the hell are you doing in here, Walker ?” Cavanaugh’s surprise colored his words.
Brandon ’s brow arched as he lazily caressed Cara’s bare back with his callused fingertips. The rough pads sent delicious shivers racing along her spine. Her breathing hitched. Brandon ’s voice was husky when he finally spoke. “We were searching for a little privacy.”
Cavanaugh stared, his gaze scanning the entire closet area before reaching the clothing strewn on the floor. He snorted. “The Hyatt is down the street. I suggest you book a room.”
“No problem.” Brandon shrugged his broad shoulders, a languid smile flitting on his lips.
In the next instant, the closet door slammed shut, shrouding them in darkness. Cavanaugh’s laughter shattered the silence.
Cara couldn’t seem to catch her breath, and from the sounds of things, neither could the man standing beside her. Stunned, and more than a little shaken, she slipped from his embrace.
Brandon Walker had kissed her. Cara’s lips quivered and her heart continued to race a marathon in her chest. Her breasts throbbed, her nipples aching to the point of pain. She crouched down, groping for her clothing in the dark.
To his credit, Brandon didn’t open the door. He didn’t move or even flinch as Cara brushed past his legs while searching for the items he’d discarded earlier. In fact, although she couldn’t see him, he seemed to be rooted in place.
It was just a kiss, she reminded herself again. A ruse Brandon came up with at the last second, so she wouldn’t get caught breaking into William Cavanaugh’s filing cabinet. Cara’s fingers trembled as she found her clothes and dressed in haste.
So why did it feel like more?