Affair of Pleasure

The one worth waiting for...

Childhood neighbors and friends turned business partners, Nichelle Wright and Wolfe Diallo make a successful management consulting team. Yet Nichelle knows charming ladies’ man Wolfe too well to want anything more. Until wooing a lucrative new client requires them to masquerade as husband and wife. And with one heated glance across a Parisian hotel room, “strictly platonic” explodes in an inferno of long-denied desire.

For years, Wolfe has kept sexy, ambitious Nichelle on a pedestal. Suddenly she’s in his bed, and for the first time he’s the one wanting more. Playing at man-and-wife is all too satisfying—until a business rival plants seeds of mistrust. Wolfe knows he and Nichelle can never be just friends again. Is this the end, or a smoldering new beginning?

She opened her eyes to see Wolfe quietly watching her. Nichelle was overcome by a nearly overwhelming desire to touch him. It would be so easy to crawl down to the other end of the couch and bite, kiss and lick every inch of bare flesh.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” His gaze did not leave hers.

She could only nod, swallowing heavily as the sweet and thick need rolled through her veins.

“I’ve wanted to come to Marrakesh since I was a kid,” Wolfe said softly.

“Why didn’t you?” Nichelle tucked her hip deeper into the couch, trying to put some space between their bodies. But Wolfe’s sock-clad foot followed her skin, tucking into her with a slight and suggestive caress. Was he doing this to her on purpose?

Wolfe shrugged. “Work became more important to me than seeing the world.”

“I never thought I’d hear you say work became more important than enjoying life,” she murmured.

They were caught in a delicate cocoon together, lulled into a gentle world made simply of their own voices, the lush beauty of the room, the faint smell of Moroccan amber that billowed up from the couch like fine smoke. It felt like blasphemy to speak above a whisper.

Dear Reader,

Wolfe Diallo is a man of sin and selfishness, at least that’s what he thinks. His mother cheated on his father when he was young, leaving Wolfe mistrustful of long-term intimacy and of his own genetic predisposition to take rather than to give.

Nichelle Wright is a good girl, despite her love of designer stilettos and premium vodka. After all, for most of her life she’s ignored that tasty morsel, Wolfe Diallo, who had been dangling under her nose the whole time. Now, after a long look at what he has to offer, she wants to ditch her good-girl ways for a taste of what she suddenly craves.

Find out with me, dear reader, if Wolfe’s sin and Nichelle’s sweetness will end up being an explosive mix.

Decadently yours,

Lindsay Evans

LINDSAY EVANS was born in Jamaica and currently lives and writes in Atlanta, Georgia, where she’s constantly on the hunt for inspiration, club in hand. She loves good food and romance and would happily travel to the ends of the earth for both. Find out more at lindsayevanswrites.com.

To my readers, old and new.

Thank you for sharing your time with me.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This new journey of mine wouldn’t be possible without Sheree L. Greer, Angela Gabriel and Dorothy Lindsay. As my beta reader, Sheree has read more romance novels than she’d ever even thought possible, and Angela has suffered with me through many plotting sessions over dinner and ice cream. Dorothy Lindsay has simply always been there.

Kimberly Kaye Terry, as ever, thank you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Copyright

Chapter 1

“Nichelle, wait!”

Nichelle Wright turned at the sound of her name, pivoting on the heels of her teal Louboutin stilettos. “What can I help you with, Steve?”

Steve Brooks stood in the middle of the well-lit hallway of Kingston Consulting with his shirtsleeves rolled up and his tie loosened, although it was just past ten in the morning. He shoved his hands in his pockets and relaxed his stance, as if he had all day to waste Nichelle’s time.

She tapped the manila folder she carried against her thigh and quirked an eyebrow, wordlessly telling him to hurry it along.

Steve finally started talking. “About the Trestle presentation you did this morning, Nichelle. Can you break something else down for me...?”

Nichelle heard a door click open behind her, far enough away that she knew it was her business partner’s office at the end of the hallway. She’d always teased him that for someone who was so friendly and sociable, he was giving mixed signals by taking the office farthest from everyone. Hers was at the opposite end of the hall, in the thick of things.

She glanced over her shoulder. Wolfe Diallo stood in the doorway, getting ready to walk a woman toward the elevators. He was dressed for a day of meetings, his solid six and a half feet clad in a gray three-piece suit. His head looked freshly shaved, and the goatee framing his mouth was crisp and on point, as always. He was a model businessman. Emphasis on