Ian shouldnât be thinking about bedding his clientâs daughterâ¦
But Marie was so much more than that. She was 100-percent woman. A woman heâd already seduced. A woman he wanted to seduce againâ¦
Without realizing it, Ian had backed Marie up until her bottom leaned against his glass desk. She held on to the blunted edge tightly with both hands and her small breasts moved with her sudden shortness of breath.
Ian realized he was having a little problem finding air himself. He eyed Marieâs mouth, but he didnât kiss her. Instead he skimmed his hand down over her slender hip, lingering on the tender skin of her bare thigh, then slowly inched the material of her skirt up until her panties were revealed.
Oh, there was no thong for Marie Bertelli. Instead her underwear was cotton and white and sexier than any scrap of silk and lace known to man. It clung to her womanhood like only cotton could. And made his mouth water with the urge to lower himself to his knees and press his lips against the swollen flesh just underneath.
And one look in her eyes told him she wanted it just as much as he didâ¦.
Dear Reader,
We wholeheartedly believe that everyone has a bit of rebel in them. You know, that tiny voice that tells you to go ahead and eat that ice cream? Buy that piece of naughty lingerie? Makes you lust after a man you shouldnât have? Well, thatâs exactly what happens to our heroine Marie when she stumbles across fellow attorney Ian Kilborn, the last man on earth she should be tempting.
In Going Too Far, good-girl-to-the-bone Marie Bertelli wants a man to see her for who she truly is. Itâs not enough that her friends have found sizzling soul mates or that her family chases off her dates, sheâs delivered the ultimate professional blow when her father runs into a legal problem and hires Ian, Marieâs first lover, rather than coming to her. So Marie sets out to prove sheâs the better person for the job. Only, once she crosses paths with Ian, she doesnât just want to read his legal briefs, she wants to get into themâ¦.
We hope you enjoy the last installment in our LEGAL BRIEFS miniseries. Weâd love to hear what you think. Write to us at P.O. Box 12271, Toledo, OH 43613, or visit us online at www.toricarrington.com.
Hereâs wishing you happyâand hotâreading!
Lori & Tony Karayianni
aka Tori Carrington
For our Greek brothers and sisters Katina and Georgos,
Andreas and Lambrini, Victoria and Alfon, Theonesis and Dina, and Thotheres and Georgia, whose enduring love proves that happily ever after arenât merely words on a page. You inspire us. Happy Valentineâs Day!
MONDAYS HAD A WAY OF challenging even Marie Bertelliâs good-girl tendencies. The weekend always seemed to go by too quickly. All too often the first day of the workweek seemed more like an ugly three-eyed monster to conquer rather than a fresh start to finish what she hadnât the week before.
She laid on the horn then shouted at the driver who had just cut her off, showing a tiny glimpse of the bad girl she had let out once and only once in her twenty-six years and didnât dare let out again. She justified the brief transgression by pointing out the other driver couldnât hear her through the windows of her â67 ragtop Mustang, closed against the late January chill of Albuquerque, New Mexico. Of course, it didnât help that she hadnât had a man in her life forâ¦well, much longer than she cared to think about. Especially when Valentineâs Day loomed around the corner and everywhere she turned red and pink hearts were popping out at her, reminding her of the pathetic state of her love life.
She glanced at her watch. What also didnât help was that sheâd been waylaid by an accident on I-40, and now grumpy and preoccupied Monday morning drivers threatened to send her careening over an emotional edge that sheâd preferred not to be teetering on just then.
âMarie Antonia Bertelli, is that the mouth you use to talk to your mother?â
Marie sighed and moved her wireless phone from under her chin where sheâd thought her mother couldnât hear her. Ha. âI wasnât talking to you, Mama.â
Although for all intents and purposes she should say exactly what sheâd said to the driver to Francesca Bertelli. Her mother sometimes acted like sheâd immigrated from Italy last week, with her old-world traditions and speech patterns, rather than the second generation Italian-American that she was, whoâd placed first runner-up in the Miss New Mexico beauty pageant.
Francesca went on as if they hadnât been interrupted. âAbout dinner tonight. I want you to wear the blue dress. You know the one Iâm talking about? The one you wore to Anthonyâs wedding. It makes you look like you have breasts. And, of course, it brings out the blue in your eyes.â