By Invitation Only Read Online Free Page B

sucker now?” he teased, his voice a sweet caress.
    She stopped struggling. Moving was only revving up the attraction. Contact with his sinewy biceps and muscular pecs sent hot wisps of steam smoking through her veins.
    “Well?” he drawled. “No smart-mouthed comeback?”
    None. Her mind was numb and she wasn’t a quipper in the best of circumstances. But this went beyond that. It was as if he’d kidnapped her brain and was holding it for ransom.
    His breath was warm on her face. He smelled good. Too good. Why was her pulse jumping? Why was her heart thudding? The man was a playboy. She knew that about him. He stood for everything she disliked—slipshod journalism; lack of fidelity; unbridled, exuberant goofiness.
    And yet here she was, practically lying underneath him, staring into eyes that she’d initially thought were brown, but upon closer examination proved to be an intoxicating blend of milk chocolate and gold, and she was wishing he would kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. Oh, yes, she was.
    Don’t forget, not for one minute, that he’s a libertine of the highest order.
    Then she felt his erection straining through his slacks, pressing into her upper thigh. She closed her eyes, licked her lips. The man wanted her.
    Big deal. He probably wants any available female from age twenty-one to sixty.
    All at once, the teasing drained from his face and he looked…well, like she felt.
    Ambushed.
    He was poised over her, hard as salami and she was staring into his eyes and the bed was soft beneath them and they were breathing in tandem, alone on an island, pretending to be engaged. It was a heady, intoxicating formula for sheer disaster.
    Thankfully a knock sounded on the door. They sprang apart. Nick shooting left, Olivia darting right, both flustered.
    Nick turned his back to her, ducked his head and slapped a palm against the nape of his neck. Olivia smoothed down her pin-striped business skirt, ran fingers through her mussed hair, cleared her throat and moved to open the door.
    A young woman with a shy smile stood in the hallway, her arms piled high with clothing. “From Miss Carmichael and Mr. Maynard,” she said, and deposited the clothes in Olivia’s arms.
    “Thank you,” she said.
    The woman stood there expectantly. Oh, yes, she wanted a tip.
    “Greer,” Olivia called over her shoulder. “You got a couple of bucks?”
    He trotted over, peeling a twenty from his pocket. Was he was one of those show-offs who overtipped to prove how cool he was? More than likely he was priming a potential conquest. Nick handed the bill to the woman with a wink and a smile.
    As expected, the young woman melted, simpering, “Thank you, thank you.”
    Nick closed the door behind her.
    Olivia rolled her eyes and dumped the clothes on the bed, now rumpled from where they’d lain on it. “Was there ever a time in your life when women didn’t fall all over you?”
    “Nope,” he said easily and raked a hot gaze down her body.
    Heightened awareness blasted through her and she curled her fingers into fists. She shivered and hated herself for her reaction to him. She was not going to be like every other woman on the planet who seemed to think this man hung the moon and the stars. “You don’t feel the least bit remorseful about it, do you?”
    “Why should I feel remorseful because women like me?”
    “You take advantage of the attraction.”
    “No more than they take advantage of me.”
    She groaned. “Not all women like you.”
    “Meaning you don’t like me.”
    “Yes. I don’t like you.”
    He shrugged as if it didn’t matter one whit whether she did or not. “You gonna change?”
    She startled. “Change? Why should I change? I’m not suddenly going to lower my standards just because I’m forced to be in your company. I—”
    “I meant your clothes,” he interrupted. “That business suit looks pretty uncomfortable.”
    “Oh.” Embarrassment scorched her cheeks. “Well, yes, I am going to change.”