The Secretary's Seduction
From sensible secretary…to sexy siren!Handsome business tycoon Morgan Grady has just been voted News Weekly's Man of the Year. Eager to move out of the media spotlight, Morgan decides it's time he found himself a wife. So New York's most eligible bachelor proposes to the one woman he knows he can trust–his sensible assistant,Winnie Graham!Alone on his exotic private island, Morgan discovers that Winnie's composed exterior hides a storm of passion and desire. The sexual attraction that had always simmered gently between them suddenly ignites into an inferno! Morgan wants Winnie, but a woman this feisty will never settle for being a convenient wife. She demands nothing less than her cynical boss's heart….
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âI wonât need you,â she said sweetly, crossing her arms over her chest. âIf I think about the history of our relationship, itâs you that needs me.â
âThatâs a gross exaggeration!â
Winnie took a step back as he stepped forward. âMaybe, but itâs still true. When have I needed you for anything?â
Her arch question was met by complete silence. Morganâs dark blue eyes met hers, held, and she saw a flicker there, in the dark blue depthsâa hot blue fire sheâd never seen before.
Winnie felt a tiny thrill, followed by a surge of adrenaline. He was looking at her, really looking at her, and he liked what he saw. It wasnât an external thing, it was something else, something deeper, more basic, and there was heat in his eyes, heat in the way he leaned a little closer and then a little closer.
Very slowly, very deliberately, Morgan placed his right hand on the wall next to her shoulders, and then his left hand, trapping her there between him and the wall.
âI think you have needs, Winnie.â
Jane Porter grew up on a diet of Harlequin Presents>® romance novels, reading late at night under the covers so her mother wouldnât see! She wrote her first book at age eight and spent many of her high school and college years living abroad, immersing herself in other cultures and continuing to read voraciously. Now, Jane has settled down in rugged Seattle, Washington, with her gorgeous husband and two sons.
Jane loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 524, Bellevue, WA 98009, U.S.A. Or visit her Web site at www.janeporter.com.
For my great friend, Barb. It is a fairy tale, isnât it?
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
IT WAS sweltering. No one, but no one, married in Manhattan in the middle of July. No one but Winnie Graham that is.
The organist paused and the packed congregation in St. Paulâs Cathedral seemed to rise in unison and all four hundred and fifty heads turned to stare at Winnie where she stood at the back of the church in her twenty-thousand-dollar silk bridal gown.
White silk gown.
Just like her white garter, white silk hose, white flowers, white carpet, white, white, white for a virgin bride.
For a twenty-five-year-old virgin bride who knew so little about life and men, that she was about to walk down the aisle without ever being kissed.
Well, she had been kissed once, badly kissed, back in seventh grade when Rufus Jones practically stuck his tongue down her throat at a junior high birthday party. Sheâd been so disgusted by the kiss that sheâd nearly thrown up afterward, so that kiss didnât count.
And now she was about to marry the love of her life except he didnât love her and heâd never kissed her and sheâd actually signed a contract agreeing to this horrible public society wedding which meant nothing to him.
What in Godâs name was she thinking? What in Godâs name was she doing?
How could she be a wife before sheâd ever had a date?
Winnie closed her eyes, drew a deep breath and tried to calm herself but she was losing it, knew she was losing it. She was shaking so hard now she could barely keep her teeth from chattering. Funny how your teeth could chatter when youâre burning up. Perspiration covered her skin. Her heart raced. She couldnât get enough air.
What a fool she was. What a perfect idiot.
Yes, she loved Morgan Grady. Yes, she was madly in love with Morgan Grady, but how could she sell herself like this? How could she sign away her life?
A contract.
Sheâd signed a contract to become his wife.
How could she love herself so little and him so much?
The organist struck the keys with fervor. Bars of music filled the cathedral, four hundred and fifty people seemed to inhale all at once, waiting for her to take the first step forward.
Winnieâs head swam. The people became a blur of white noise and heat. It was so hot in here. There were too many people and not enough air. She felt as though she were suffocating. She couldnât breathe. Couldnât think. And they were all waiting for her to move. To take that first step. Morgan was waiting for her to take that first step.
So she did. She took a step, she turned around, she ran.
Winnie dropped her bouquet of white lilies, roses and orchids in the cool foyer, dashed through the cathedralâs paneled doors, down the wide marble steps and jumped into a passing taxicab.
CHAPTER TWO
âWHERE to?â the cabdriver asked, sweating profusely and craning his head to get a look at her in the back seat, the stiff petticoats in her wedding gown making the white silk billow like huge sails on an eighteenth-century schooner.
The cabbie needed a shower. The inside of the car stank of old sweat. Winnie cranked her window down, dangerously close to throwing up.
âAnywhere,â she choked, needing air, but the hot muggy air outside only made her more nauseous.
