Eve saw it in the intensity of his look. And she wanted to kiss him back. Badly. So when the elevator doors opened, Eve tugged him inside. Jack caught on quickly, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling the side of her neck as his erection nudged her thigh.
âWhere do we go from here, Eve?â he asked, his breath hot on her skin.
âWherever we want, Jack.â
Then, suddenly, desperately, as if a dam had been released, her hands were in his hair, their lips fused, their hips together. She strained closer, grinding her mouth against his, waging a war with her tongue. Somewhere along the way, this had changed from a sexy, flirtatious encounter into a moment of consuming need. Eve ached for him to fill her, to satisfy this craving.
âJack, whereâs a condom?â she said huskily, breaking the kiss.
He pulled a foil packet out of his wallet, and Eve quickly plucked it from his fingers, tearing the cellophane with her teeth.
âUnzip your pants. You promised me short and to the point.â
Jack took the condom from her and gave her a grin that stole her breath away. âHoney,â he said, shaking his head, âI offered brief. But never short.â
Dear Reader,
In times of stress, or even great joy, I often turn to comfort food. And unfortunately for me, that means chocolate. Sure, I like apples, carrots and celery sticks, but they donât cut it when you need a pick-me-up. Give me Godiva any day of the week. And if Iâm trying for semihealthy, I donât mind if the manufacturers stick a piece of fruit or a nut in there, as long as they cover it with rich, dark chocolate.
Eve Carmichaelâintelligent, strong, independent, drivenâshares my weakness. According to Eve, nothing is better than chocolate. Of course, under the right circumstances, this opinion is subject to change. And Eveâs corporate rival Jack LaRoux is a tall, dark and dangerous one-man circumstance waiting to happenâ¦.
So sit back and enjoy watching Jack convince Eve that some things are, indeed, better than chocolateâ¦.
Iâd love to hear from you. You can write me at P.O. Box 289, Hiram, GA 30141.
Enjoy,
Jennifer LaBrecque
Books by Jennifer LaBrecque
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
886âBARELY MISTAKEN
904âBARELY DECENT
952âBARELY BEHAVING
HARLEQUIN DUETS
28âANDREW IN EXCESS
52âKIDS+COPS=CHAOS
64âJINGLE BELL BRIDE?
To Brenda Chin, for your seemingly infinite patience, keen eye and insight, and unfailing encouragement.
âJACK LAROUX with his pants off. Now thereâs an interesting thought. Iâve heard heâs yumm-o,â Andrea Scarpini declared from her end of the park bench.
âThatâs definitely not what I meant when I said Iâd beat the pants off LaRoux.â Eve Carmichael laughed, tilting her head back to soak up the early-spring sun filtering through Manhattan high-rises. Although, it was an interesting thought, and one sheâd entertained fairly frequently. Eve was pretty sure it meant she needed a life outside of work. But she had no intention of sharing that tidbit with Andrea. âAnd I donât care if heâs yumm-o or Quasimodo, Iâll beat him fair and square with sheer talent.â
âAnd what if our boy Jack doesnât play fair? He didnât earn the nickname Jack the Ripper by being a nice guy,â Andrea said.
Rumors had circulated about Jack LaRoux, Eveâs counterpart at Hendley and Wells Advertising San Francisco office in the six months heâd been onboard. Descriptions had included arrogant, extremely talented and ruthless. Oh yeah, and yumm-o. Nice, however, never entered the picture.
Eve quirked her brow at Andrea and opened her bottled water.
âUh, nice doesnât come into it, does it?â Andrea said. Arguably one of the best graphic artists in the city, Andrea abhorred the high-stakes competitive nature of Eveâs job. âI mean they donât call you Eve the Avenger because youâre nice.â
Eve bit back a smile. No, they didnât. Sheâd earned that nickname ostensibly because she never let anything get the best of her. No one crossed her unscathed. Besides, it had a nice cadence to it.
Meanwhile, Andrea was talking herself into another one of her infamous corners. âI mean, I think youâre nice because youâre my friend, but not everyoneâ¦â She trailed off, squirming on her end of the bench. âYou know what I mean.â
Eve relented and laughed, tugging Andrea out of the corner sheâd backed herself into. âI do know what you mean. Itâs okay. Do you know what you call a nice account executive?â She took a long swallow of water.
âWhat?â
âUnemployed.â
Andrea wrinkled her nose. âVery funny.â
âNah. Just sorta funny. But listen, it gets even better. I got an e-mail from Kirk Hendley this morning. Whoever wins the Bradley account gets the marketing vice presidency over both the New York and San Francisco offices.â