Beyond Daring
Let's see the Handler handle her!Up-and-coming publicist Jeff Brooks is assigned to hot Manhattan celebutante Sheldon Summerville, whose scandalous behavior threatens the marriage proposal brokered by her tycoon father. The heiress hates being a commodity, but daddy bankrolls her extravagant lifestyle, so she's dealing the only way she knows how: shoe-shopping and party-hopping.Jeff is supposed to retool sexy Sheldon's wild-child image (thereby earning his PR superstud merit badge). Only, he knows from media makeovers that he's a 'recovering player,' and should be cleaning up his own reputation.But all his extra-naughty urges come roaring back the second Sheldon sets a stilettoed foot outside her limo door. She's headstrong, hard-bodied and seems determined to show him who's on top!
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Contents
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
1
JEFF BROOKS STOOD in his kitchen, furiously chopping green peppers, trying to expend some of the sexual frustration that currently had his shorts tied up in knots. Making breakfast was infinitely preferable than fantasizing about the woman happily snoozing in his bed.
Sheldon Summerville. Party girl. Socialite. Professional shopper. She was off-limits, with a capital O, little f, little f. O-f-f. F-f-o. He recited the jingle in his head, while thinking about her father, who, three months ago, had hired Jeffâs firm to âredeemâ her image. As if such a miracle could be performed by a mere mortal without the use of a padlocked chastity belt. Anything to shut down that perfect body, which she seemed determined to share with the world.
He selected an onion and began to hack, his eyes burning from the juices. Today he welcomed the discomfort. Sheldon Summerville left him frustrated professionally, sexually and mentally. Heâd never met someone so determined to ignore what the world thought, especially her father, Wayne Summerville, the head of Summerville Consumer Products. They were the number two consumer product conglomerate in the world, proud maker of Toothbrite toothpaste, among other things.
Sheldonâs party-girl reputation didnât sit well with Wayneâs stockholders. Apparently, people with whiter teeth and fresh breath could be real frumps. However, even Jeff thought she went to extremes, and he was no monk himself.
The bigger mystery was why? No matter how long Jeff racked his brain, he couldnât figure Sheldon out, and she provided no hints. Always smiling in that vacant and clueless manner, which had ceased to fool him by Day Three. To make matters worse, she had no qualms about making lewd, yet majorly imaginative propositionsâespecially to him. He looked down at the mess heâd made of the onion and tossed the thing in the trash. Maybe shallots would be better.
Imaginative propositions he wanted to ignore. Propositions he should ignore. Okay, propositions that he didnât want to ignoreâ¦.
Last night had been a stupid idea, but every night with Sheldon was a stupid idea. She had conveniently left him a message that she was going to the notorious club, Crobar. Jeff, knowing her message was code for multiple doses of alcohol, had shown up at ten, hoping to play responsible chaperone. At ten-oh-nine, heâd pulled her off the bartender, at ten-thirteen, heâd pulled her off the New York Rangerâs goalie, and when he caught her kissing the bouncer, he knew it was past time for her to go home.
Theyâd argued until the cops came, threatening to arrest her, which would be exactly what she wanted. So Jeff had poured her into a taxi and taken her home. With him. It seemed like a good idea at the time. It had still seemed like a good idea six hours later when he woke up on his couch. In fact, it had seemed like such a great denouement, that he had congratulated himself on finally lassoing her into some sort of obedient servitude.
Everything had been fine until he opened the door to his bedroom, and saw her curled up, one hand cupped under her cheek like a child, sheets tangled between bare legs that were anything but childlike. Instantly his body moved to code red.
Jeff wasnât a self-disciplined man, had never worried about consequences, but thisâ¦The quiet little devil on his shoulder began whispering in his ear, telling him to go wake up her up in the best possible way. She wouldnât mind. Ah, thereâs the rub. She wouldnât mind. She would welcome him with arms wide open, those sea-blue eyes promising so many things. Glorious, wondrous thingsâ¦
Thump. Thump. Thump. He whacked the shallots with his cleaver. Hard. Right now he needed to destroy something, and vegetables would be the victim of choice.
SLOWLY SHELDON SUMMERVILLE ROUSED herself from the fog of sleep into the fog that most people called life. She could smell him on the pillow, and she smiled, clutching it tighter to her. A persistent thump-thump echoed in the apartment, possibly the beating of her heart. Sunshine poured in through the window, and she stretched beneath the warm rays, her body satedâ¦
Sated?
No, her body wasnât sated at all. There had been no touching, no kissing, nothing remotely sate-like last night. She merely slept in his bed. By herself.
So if he wasnât in his bed, where was he?
Sheldon threw back the covers, looked around, and then rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The mysterious thump-thump was consistent, and now that she knew it wasnât someoneâs heart, the sound was annoying.
Silently, she padded into the kitchen and watched him as he chopped, chefâs knife in hand. Thump. Thump. Thump. First the green peppers, then back to the red ones. He didnât notice that she was standing, staring, ogling.
It was criminal that Jeff Brooks could be so tasty, so buff, yet still work in the stab-you-in-the-back-world of PR.
