Lie With Me / Destiny's Hand: Lie With Me

LIE WITH ME

“Can I make a sexy suggestion?” Philly asked.

She cleared her throat, then continued. “How about we have a fling? It will only last while we’re on the island, and will remain our secret. Once we’re home, we’ll go back to being friends. But for now, anything goes…”

Roman said nothing. Still the hunger in his eyes had her toes curling. Still, his hesitation spurred her on. She wanted to nail this deal…now. She didn’t want Roman reneging on their agreement at a more awkward time…

“Listen,” she said, stroking his chest, and watching in satisfaction as he stiffened. “Why don’t we pretend to be strangers? I want you and you want me, and while we’re here, we’ll indulge all our sexual fantasies. No strings. And no holds barred. Deal?”

There were a few moments of silence, each one seeming like an eternity to her. Then suddenly he pulled her into his arms and kissed her roughly, frantically…thoroughly.

Finally coming up for air, he touched his forehead to hers. “I hope you don’t regret this, Philly.”

She wasn’t going to worry about regrets. And she was determined to keep Roman so occupied, he wouldn’t have a chance to think about them either…

BY

CARA SUMMERS

Cara summers’sLie with Me is her thirtieth story. Cara’s books have won several awards, including two Golden Leaf Awards, the Award of Excellence and a Golden Quill. Cara loves writing for the Blaze^>® line because it allows her to tell such a variety of stories – from Extremes and Gothic romances to an exciting adventure on the magical Greek island of Corfu. When Cara isn’t involved with her characters, she teaches in the Writing Programme at Syracuse University. For more information about her, visit her website – www. carasummers.com.

To Janet Ridgeway, my fellow instructor in

the Writing Programme at Syracuse University and a

true pet psychic. Thanks, Janet, for patiently putting up

with and answering all my questions. you’re the best!

SECOND THOUGHTS ambushed me, stopping me short just as I reached the door to Roman Oliver’s hospital room.

It was a hell of a time to be having them, but the momentum that had fueled me to race to Saint Jude’s Trauma Center at the crack of dawn was threatening to drain away with the speed of air leaving a pricked balloon.

I needed that momentum if I was going to convince Roman to make love with me.

Get a grip, Philly. You’ve made your decision, and once you do that, you never backslide.

That was certainly true when it came to business. Since I’d graduated from college last year I’d already implemented steps in my plan to open my pet psychic business. In addition to working part-time as a hostess in my family’s restaurant, I also assisted a vet at a local animal hospital, and I’d created my own Web site. But my plan with regard to Roman Oliver was not only more immediate, it was dependent on whether or not he agreed to it.

Stop dithering. Angelis women know what they want and how to get it. And you want Roman Oliver.

Through the narrow pane of glass in the door, I could see him sitting in the chair next to his bed gazing out the window. Just looking at Roman was enough to make every molecule in my body yearn.

Why did I want him? Let me count the ways. The man was incredibly attractive—if you went for a lean, rawboned face, tousled dark hair, a full, firm mouth and the kind of hard-muscled body that ancient sculptors had captured over and over again in bronze and marble.

And it wasn’t just his looks that attracted me. There was a quiet sense of determination and purpose about him that pulled at me, too.

Something fluttered right beneath my heart. Roman Oliver, current CEO of Oliver Enterprises and my brother Kit’s best friend since their freshman year in college, had been causing that “heart flutter” response in me ever since I was sixteen and he’d saved my life while we were sailing. That’s when I’d developed my first big crush on him. It had been a classic case of fantasy love, existing totally in my mind and completely one-sided. After all, I was sixteen and he was an older man of twenty-two.

But in the past year, my response to Roman had changed—drastically. The dryness in my throat, the thickness in the air and the heat that flooded my senses whenever I was in his vicinity signaled clearly to me that I was way beyond the crush stage and well into lust territory where Roman was concerned. Still, I might have been able to ignore my body’s responses if I hadn’t become convinced the attraction I felt was reciprocated. I hadn’t been imagining the heated looks Roman had sent my way when he thought I wasn’t looking. And I certainly hadn’t imagined what had happened in his hospital room two days ago.

Nearly a week had passed since he’d taken the nearly fatal fall that had put him in Saint Jude’s Trauma Center. He’d been injured at Saint Peter’s Church while saving his sister Juliana’s life, and it had been three more days before he’d fully regained consciousness and three days before the doctors had been able to say with certainty that there’d been no permanent injury to his spine.