Private Affairs
Palmer DeVoe is a successful – and still wildly hot – businessman returning to his home town… and the one woman – Penelope Weaver – he never forgot! Overwhelming sexual tension…Hush-hush trysts that leave them both gasping for more… But you know that saying, you can't go home again? Well, maybe, Penelope has a secret – a big one that threatens to tear them apart forever!
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About the Author
Multi-award-winning, bestselling authors Lori Schlachter Karayianni and Tony Karayianni are the power behind the pen name TORI CARRINGTON. Their over forty-five titles include numerous Blaze>®mini-series, as well as the ongoing Sofie Metropolis comedic mystery series with another publisher. Visit www.toricarrington.net and www.sofiemetro.com for more information on the duo and their titles.
Dear Reader,
First loves, second chances; there’s just something thrilling about this popular theme, isn’t there? We thoroughly enjoyed revisiting it in this second book in our PRIVATE SCANDALS series … stamping it, of course, with our own sizzling-hot brand!
In Private Affairs, sexy Palmer DeVoe returns to Earnest, Washington a different man than he was years before. Only one thing remains the same: his bone-deep need for first love Penelope Weaver. And it appears absence only makes the sex grow hotter. Despite all the heartache Penelope has endured, Palmer is the one who introduced her to white-hot sex and heart-pounding love … and proves he’s still more than capable of providing and stirring both. Her physical reaction to him gives her away every time their paths cross. But can she handle it if he leaves again …?
We hope you enjoy Palmer and Penelope’s sizzling and sometimes heart-wrenching journey toward sexily-ever-after. We’d love to hear what you think. Contact us at PO Box 12271, Toledo, OH 43612, USA (we’ll respond with a signed bookplate, newsletter and bookmark), or visit us on the web at www.toricarrington.net.
Here’s wishing you love, romance and HOT reading.
Lori & Tony Karayianni aka Tori Carrington
We dedicate this book to our online friends everywhere: you know who you are!
Interested in joining the fun? Check us out at www.
facebook.com/toricarrington or www.twitter.com/toricarrington.
And, as always, to Brenda Chin, a warm and wonderful constant in an ever-changing world.
Table of Contents
1
HOT. SO VERY HOT …
She lay against the picnic blanket and restlessly watched as he fanned his hand across her trembling belly, taking in her nakedness after he’d popped the buttons down the front of her dress. The material glided from her skin. She wasn’t wearing a bra, which left him to concentrate on the scrap of pink cotton that kept her from being completely at the mercy of his hungry gaze. He slid his thumbs under the thin straps at her hips, slowly, ever so slowly, sliding her panties down until she was finally free from them. She moved to close her legs and he made a small sound of objection, instead coaxing her to open to him. She wriggled as the summer sun and his attention warmed her delicate flesh.
Then he was touching her …
Fingers stroked, probed, invaded, bringing her a pleasure that surely couldn’t be real …
He leaned in, covering her mouth with his.
Too wet … too cloying …
She turned her head and he licked her ear instead.
No, no, she wanted to whisper. Down … there …
Penelope Weaver awakened with a start. Panting. Only it wasn’t she who was out of breath. Or even the man that had been featured in her dream, as he was so often lately.
Instead, she stared at the blurry outline of her golden retriever/border collie mix and blanched away from his awful breath.
“Thor!”
Penelope sat up. It took a few moments to gather her wits about her. She wasn’t lying on a picnic blanket in Old Man Benson’s field just outside town, but was rather in her own bed in her room in the house on Maple Street. The summer sun cut a path across her body, but it was early evening and she was fully dressed.
And the too wet kiss hadn’t come from her fantasy man, but rather her eight-year-old dog.
Bleech.
She picked up the wind-up alarm clock from the nightstand. Just after 7:00 p.m.
Just after seven!
Barnaby Jones would be there to pick her up any minute.
She sprung from the bed and rushed to the shared bathroom in the hall. She must have fallen asleep when she’d gone in to stretch out on the bed. It had been a long day at the small café she owned and ran on Main Street and she’d needed to rest her feet for just a few moments.
The café. Even now it seemed odd to refer to her shop as such. She’d originally opened the place to sell her tapestries and called it Penelope’s Possessions, but when the lumber mill had closed down four years ago it had taken much of what made downtown Earnest a draw for visitors with it. Businesses had closed, storefronts were empty. She’d adapted, offering her wares on the internet, but the shop itself had gradually become a coffee shop. Not a difficult transition seeing as she’d always made a good cup of coffee and thanks to her grandmother and great-aunt, there was an endless supply of baked goodies.
