Power Play

Her eyes were big and glistening with passion.

“Both,” Jonah promised her.

And just like that the game ended. Slowly she slipped her nightie off her shoulders, leaving her exposed in all her beauty.

Leaning forward, he decided it was well time he joined in this seduction. He explored her mouth, teasing her lips, making her sigh. He let his mouth go all the places it wanted to go—the swell of her breasts, her nipples, which tasted like heaven.

When he nuzzled her belly, she giggled. “You should have shaved.”

“Next time I will….”

She sighed and Jonah felt the quiver of her skin beneath his lips. “I can’t believe you didn’t jump me the second we got into the room.”

“You have no idea how much I wanted to,” he murmured into her belly button. “How much I still do…”

Dear Reader,

Some things you just can’t make up! This book came about after an extremely memorable writing retreat in the Pacific Northwest. My friends and I booked in to a charming lodge to write. One of our rooms had bedbugs and we all had to move. They took away all our clothes and cases to be treated and, since the lodge was full, we got rooms they normally don’t rent out. The room that Emily ends up with is pretty much the room I had. Since I couldn’t sleep, I played the writer’s favorite game. What if?

I’m grateful to all my zany writing friends, especially the Duetters, who can always be counted on for laughter and support. A special thanks to Candy Halliday, who helped with the orthodontist background, and to Holly and A.J., who helped in many ways.

As far as I know, there is no Elk Crossing Lodge in Idaho, and if there is I have never been there. The location was entirely fictitious.

Hope you enjoy Power Play, my unique contribution to the FORBIDDEN FANTASIES promotion. As always, come visit me on the Web at www.nancywarren.net.

Happy reading,

Nancy Warren

www.millsandboon.co.uk

USA TODAY bestselling author Nancy Warren lives in the Pacific Northwest where her hobbies include walking her border collie in the rain, antiques and sports. She’s the author of more than thirty novels and novellas for Harlequin Books and has won numerous awards. Visit her at www.nancywarren.net.

To Bobby and Kathleen,

dear friends and fellow bedbug refugees. Thanks for all the laughter and good times— and for the picture of all of us in our lost and found bin fashions!

Chapter 1

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

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

THE SCREAMS WOKE EMILY Saunders. Horror movie worthy shrieks of terror that had her jerking up in bed and panicking for a moment when she didn’t immediately recognize her surroundings.

She flicked on the bedside lamp, noting fuzzily that it was 5:07 a.m. The bed and the rest of the hotel room furniture came into focus along with her thoughts. Right. She was back in Elk Crossing, Idaho, in her room at the Elk Crossing Lodge.

For a second she wondered if the screams had been part of a nightmare. Her gaze drifted to the pumpkin-colored bridesmaid dress hanging in the unfortunately see-through bag. No wonder she was having nightmares. When her cousin Leanne had asked her to be a bridesmaid, Emily had said, “Yes, of course.” She always said yes.

But she really thought she might have plucked up the courage to turn down the honor of being a bridesmaid had she known about the dresses. Pumpkin—the color—was bad enough, but did the shape of the dress have to resemble the vegetable? Emily had worn some hideous bridesmaid gowns in her time, but this one really took the trick-or-treat candy.

She was about to flick off the light and try to get back to sleep when she heard more screaming. And it seemed to be coming from right outside her door.

Shoving her feet into her blue terry-towel slippers and grabbing the matching robe off the end of the bed, she picked up her room key and ran to the door. Touch it first, she reminded herself, wishing she’d bothered, for once, to read that “in case of fire” map taped to the back of the door. She didn’t feel heat, or smell smoke, but the commotion continued out there in the hallway.

Amid the screams she heard some soothing tones, and nobody seemed to be rushing for exits. Also, no fire alarm rang.

Curiosity had her cautiously opening her door.

The sight that met her eyes was—unusual.

A plump young woman, well-endowed and naturally not wearing a bra in the middle of the night, was jumping up and down as though the carpet of the hotel was a trampoline. She was the one doing the screaming.

“I saw them. Crawling everywhere. They’re on me. Eww. Eww,” she bellowed.

A much skinnier woman with long arms and legs, wearing a pink baby doll and nothing else, shrieked, “I felt something. I think they’re in my hair.”

And the pair of them were off, screaming, shaking their heads and bouncing like crazed groupies at a Jonas Brothers concert.