Free Too Much Temptation by Lori Foster

of him. She has her choice of successful men.”
    “The likes of him, Jorge?” That was an insult Agatha couldn’t accept because it reflected badly on her. “Noah comes from my family, from my blood, and that’s as good as it gets. Or are you trying to denigrate me now?”
    Jorge relented. “No, of course not, Agatha. It’s just that this is all very difficult. I don’t like the idea of my little girl chasing any man.”
    “Kara needn’t be blatant about it,” Agatha soothed, when what she really wanted to do was smack Jorge. “Kara could visit the restaurant more, perhaps flirt with a few other men. That might spark Noah’s jealousy.”
    Hillary and Jorge started to object, and Kara cut them both off. “That’s a wonderful idea, Agatha. I’ll give it a try.” She hugged Agatha tightly, absurdly pleased by the suggestion.
    Heart in her throat, Agatha returned Kara’s embrace. As weak-willed as Kara might be, Agatha adored her, and she badly wanted her for her granddaughter-in-law. Kara was sweet and kind and gentle, and she had an enormous heart. She also went out of her way to make her parents proud—unlike Noah, who seemed to take berserk delight in tweaking Agatha’s temper.
    Together, they would give her incredible great-grandchildren, and Noah’s future would be set.
    “All right, then. We still have a little time before the wedding. Not much, but maybe it will be enough. For now, we won’t make any announcements.”
    Jorge looked stiff enough to crack. “We can give it two weeks. But then guests will be arriving if we don’t tell them the wedding is off.”
    “Two weeks,” Kara repeated.
    Agatha watched from the doorway as they went out to Jorge’s sporty Lexus convertible. Hillary was already tying a scarf around her fair hair, while Kara sat in the backseat, her face lifted to the sun. Something didn’t add up; there was more going on than the obvious.
    Agatha shook her head and turned away. She could hear Grace and Noah talking. Now to face down them both.
    Sometimes it was hell being the matriarch.
     
    Grace propped her hands on her hips and said, “No.” She wasn’t about to relent on something so important, regardless of what Noah thought about it.
    Noah had claimed he only wanted to “direct” her in the bedroom, but Grace had her doubts about that, based on his autocratic behavior so far.
    “Grace…” Noah warned. His silky dark hair hung over his brow and his blue eyes glittered with menace.
    “No what?” Agatha asked as she reentered the room.
    Grace dismissed Noah’s silent warning and rushed up to Agatha, determined to make her understand. “No, I won’t let him take the blame for this.” Noah had accepted enough blame lately. No way would Grace knowingly add to it. She sucked in a breath, braced herself, and blurted in all honesty, “Noah was drunk and I took shameful advantage of him.”
    Agatha tripped to a halt in her sensible tan pumps. Her faded blue eyes were first disbelieving, then hot with incredulity.
    Noah laughed, raised his arms as if to say, “What can I do?” and dropped into a creaky leather chair, at his leisure. He stretched out his long legs, now clad in comfortable, clean, and pressed khaki slacks. He laced his fingers together over his abdomen and watched Grace.
    Grace swallowed hard, as always affected just by the sight of him. She’d watched Noah dress that morning, had seen him in nothing more than a towel, felt his big, strong body pressing down on her.
    She shivered with the memory. Noah was so gorgeous, so incredible. He was hairy, but not too much so. Muscled just right. Warm and hard and tall and strong…
    Next to him, even with his beard stubble and red eyes, Grace felt like a limp, dingy rag. A pudgy rag.
    She mentally dug in, determined to do what she knew to be right. She couldn’t be distracted with thoughts of sex. “It’s true, Noah, and you know it.”
    He shrugged. “It’s true I was drunk.”
    “Mourning your hasty