Free Just the Man She Needs by Gwynne Forster Page A

you…” He left the rest unsaid, stepped into her apartment, and his arms, strong and warm, locked her to his body. She waited while he gazed into her eyes. The pressure of his fingers on her body excited her. What if he…
    “Open your mouth for me,” he said, and when she parted her lips, he went into her, loving her and possessing her, searing her with his heat until desire plowed through her. She held the back of his head, telling him that she wanted all he would give her. He backed away.
    “Don’t you…know that isn’t circumspect?” he asked her, panting for breath. “Honey, you make it hard as hell for me to keep my word.”
    “You’re…Maybe you’ll have to keep your hands off me. I mean, if you don’t touch me, we can’t start these fires. Right?”
    “I’m definitely not promising that,” he said. “We’ll work something out. I’ll call you tomorrow morning. All right?”
    “I’ll look forward to that,” she said. “Thanks for a wonderful evening. Good night.”
    She couldn’t believe the grin that flashed over his face. What a devil he must have been as a child! “You don’t really believe I’m leaving here without a kiss good-night, do you?”
    “But I thought—”
    His kiss, hard and possessive, stunned her. “Good night.” He opened the door and left.
    Felicia slumped against the wall, took a deep breath and told herself to back up. “No point in losing your head, girl, just because the man has bedroom eyes and a smile you can’t resist.” She vowed to spend more time on her career and less time thinking about Ashton Underwood.
    Intent upon taking the advice she’d given herself the previous night, Felicia hired a speakers’ bureau to set up engagements on topics that would showcase her skill as a political analyst. She meant to put the business of writing a society column behind her and become a political columnist. However, Felicia couldn’t know it would be as a society columnist that she sealed her future happiness.
    She stepped up to the podium for her first talk in a series scheduled to take place at Brooklyn College, looked down at the first row of attendees and into the face of her arch rival, Reese Hall. After forcing herself to smile at the woman who occasionally addled her, she spoke about domestic abuse, its forms, prevalence and consequences, as well as the reasons why women continued to endure it. Reese appeared awestruck, and Felicia didn’t doubt that the woman had considered her a lightweight when, in fact, she was a journalist trained at an Ivy League school. At the end of the question-and-answer period, Felicia thanked her audience and walked over to Reese.
    “What a pleasant surprise, Reese. Thank you for coming.” She knew that by being gracious, she’d taken the wind out of Reese Hall’s sails, and she let herself enjoy the little victory, for she knew it would be short-lived. Felicia had not expected that her talk would be reported in the media, or that it would generate invitations to speak on social issues concerning women.
    “You got four or five hundred letters here,” her editor told her two days after her first lecture. “Maybe you want to start putting some of this in your column.”
    That was what she wanted to hear. “Thanks, Ray. I’ll do my best, but if it’s all right with you, I’ll continue reporting society news…for now.”
    She thought he half frowned, but he said, “Okay.” And as far as she was concerned, he had committed himself. She wondered what Ashton would think of her ambition to write a column covering political and other serious topics.

    At the moment Ashton’s concern focused on Dream and the possibility that he might lose it. Conversations with his brothers gave him very little comfort. “Julian Smith is almost three times Kate Smallens’ age,” Cade said. “He wants to give her our company, does he? We’ll see about that. Hang tight for a few days, Ashton. Smith may no longer have a reason for trying