A Dash of Temptation. Jo Leigh
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Dash Black. The sexiest man on earth.
Tess moved beneath the silky sheets, her body pleasantly warm from their amazing lovemaking earlier. Dash lay beside her breathing gently. She wanted to get up, call all her friends with the news. Why not? It was her bed, after all. He was a guest. A lover.
Her lover. If she wanted him to be.
Could she just have a fling? Or would she end up losing? She was half in love with him already. Then what? Long lonely nights wishing he was with her? Jealousy every time she saw him in the National Enquirer?
It was foolish to get involved with him. What could he possibly see in Tess from tiny Tulip, Texas, who was trying to make it in the Big Apple?
Dash wasn’t going to fall in love with her. This was about fun and sex. Sex and more sex. Which was by no means a bad thing. As long as she didn’t confuse it with love. If she said yes to the sex part, what did all the rest matter? He belonged in her bed…and boy, did Dash belong in her.
“So to do Dash,” she whispered. “Or not to do Dash?” She grinned and gazed over at his nude body.
Even in the dark he was a beautiful man. With that sculpted chin, strong nose and eyes that made grown women weep.
All in her bed. Hers. Tess from Tulip, Texas.
A Dash of Temptation
Jo Leigh
MILLS & BOON
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To Lawrence, who is my Man To Keep
Contents
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Prologue
To: Erin
CC: Samantha
From: [email protected]
Subject: Men I’m NOT Going To Do!
Okay, picture this: I’m with Brad. He’s wearing Armani and he smells like cashmere on ice. His hair is perfect, including the obligatory rakish bangs across his forehead. His frown is fetching, his gaze hurt.
Me: I’m sorry, Brad. I just can’t do this. I want more from a relationship than you can give.
Him: Oh, Tess. You’ve made me realize you’re the only woman in the world for me. I’d be lost without you. (He drops to one knee and whips out a Tiffany ring box. Flicking it open, the diamond blinds me for a moment.)
Him: Marry me, Tess. Be mine forever.
Me: Put that 1.2 million dollar ring back in your pocket. We’re not meant to be together. I must go.
Him: Wait! Tess! (He bursts into racking sobs.)
Me: (I wipe a tear as I head for the subway. My posture is excellent.)
Nice, huh? Okay, so here’s what really happened.
Me: I don’t think we can, I mean, uh, I don’t think I can see you anymore.
Him: Okay.
Me: (pulling the knife from the center of my heart) Bye.
The first one’s better. MUCH better, don’t you think? Unfortunately, Brad, bless his pointed little head, didn’t understand that he was losing a gem. That I am, indeed, one hell of a catch and he’s a fool for letting me go.
Really. I mean that. Honest.
I love it, Erin, that you’ve been so lucky with your Man To Do. And I really mean that, too. I sit here and wonder where I went wrong. Dating dangerous, fabulously wealthy, terminally handsome boys seemed like a good idea at the time. What was a broken heart (or ten)? Nevertheless, I’ve learned my lesson. No more Men To Do… I’m doing Men To Marry now. Period. The end. Well, not the end so much as the beginning. A new beginning with a whole new me.
I’m going to do all the things Dear Abby suggests: church socials (note to self: find church), night classes (note to self: ditto), afternoon concerts in Central Park, maybe some golf lessons. I am determined to find Mr. Right and become Mrs. Right by the end of the year. Or next year. Soon, okay? No more Brads. Ever!
So don’t you guys worry about me. You just crawl into your respective beds with your respective hunks and don’t give your poor, desperate friend a thought. I mean it.
Okay then. I’ll just go cry myself to sleep. TTYS!
Love and kisses,
Tess
1
DASH BLACK FINISHED his e-mail and sent it off, wishing he didn’t have fifteen more to go. It would take hours, when all he wanted to do was lock himself in the music room and reacquaint himself with his piano.
Kelly, his assistant, was a godsend and handled his life with practiced ease, but she wasn’t a magician. With the ever increasing success of Noir, he was just damn lucky he could work at home once in a blue moon. Given all the travel, public appearances and investor relations he’d had to do over the past year, sitting in his home office should have been reward enough, but he was a selfish bastard. He wanted it all. Most people would say that’s just what he had. He said it to himself often enough. Like the prince who wants to see how the pauper lives, he had never rebelled, never known anything but his life of privilege. It was sick, the way he thought about it, when all he should be was grateful.
Screw it. Self-pity bored him even more than self-aggrandizement. Just do the work, and shut the hell—
“…the wonder dick. He wasn’t even that good in bed, for heaven’s sake.”
Dash swiveled in his chair, but the startling feminine voice with the slight southern accent had come from outside. It wasn’t Kelly’s voice. Today was his housekeeper’s day off. It was, damn, what was her name? The plant lady. Teresa, Toni? Tess. That’s right. Tess. Tall, curvy, lips like Angelina Jolie. Somewhere in the back of his mind he’d known she came to his place to tend his plants, but he’d only seen her a couple of times. Which was a damn shame. He’d thought about those curves, and how they’d feel in his arms. Maybe he’d find out.