LEAD ME ON by Julie Ortolon (find a book to read TXT) 📕

message from his agent lurking in his pocket. He should go upstairs, lock himself in his room, and not come out until he had at least started a proposal. A page. A paragraph. A sentence! “I think I’ll go to the beach over on Galveston.”

“No need to fight the crowds at the public beaches,” she said. “We have a very nice private beach here.”

“Crowds don’t bother me.” As long as he didn’t have to interact with anyone.

“Well, if you’re going to the public beach, you’ll want to get an early start. Even this time of year, parking spaces disappear in a hurry.” Allison moved around the table to clear away more dirty dishes. “Do you want to use the phone in the office before you go?”

“Use the phone?” He stared at her.

“To return your call.”

“I’ll, um, get to it later.” He dropped his napkin on the table as he rose and made a quick exit before she could say any more about the message from Hugh. As soon as he reached his room, he crumpled the note and tossed it in the trash unread.

What a total waste of a day, Scott thought as he returned to the inn that afternoon. He had sand in his Top-Siders, his skin felt gritty from the salt water, he was dehydrated, hot, and exhausted. All that to spend a day on the beach with married couples, shrieking kids, and self-absorbed coeds.

To think a day at the beach used to be one of his favorite pastimes. Of course, that was back in the days when he and his older sister had come to Galveston to spend agonizing weeks trapped in the family beach house with their bickering parents. The beach had offered escape. Plus, to a hormone-driven teenager, ogling coeds had held vast appeal.

Okay, so ogling coeds still held appeal, but he didn’t feel the least inclined to actually strike up a conversation with one and ask her out on a date. They all seemed too young.

He climbed the front steps of the inn thinking fond thoughts about a shower and a two-hour nap before he faced going out for dinner and maybe hitting a few of Galveston’s night spots. Trolling for women was a lot more work than he remembered from his younger days. He much preferred the more adult liaisons he’d had since where a couple of gourmet dinners with fine wine, long talks about literature, travel, current events, a few movies, maybe a concert, all led up to the Big Event: a night of really hot, down-and-dirty sex—followed by more nights of hot sex, until both partners got bored and moved on. Unfortunately, those relationships took more time to develop than he had at the moment.

That and they didn’t always end well. Sometimes they ended with a lot of crying, shouting, and accusations that left him feeling like a jerk. Who needed that? What he needed was a quick, effortless, no-strings-attached vacation affair. Now if he could just find an attractive, reasonably mature, halfway intelligent woman who was looking for the same thing he’d be set.

He stepped through the front door and sighed in relief when the coolness of the inn enveloped him. Pulling off his sunglasses, he waited for his vision to adjust.

“Oh, Scott,” Allison called from the parlor-cum-office. “I have some more phone messages for you.”

Groaning, he started to tell her to toss them in the trash and save him the bother. Besides, the last thing he needed was to face the ever-tempting Allison after the day he’d had. Then the sunspots cleared from his vision and he saw the person standing with her in the office. Hel-lo!

The tall, slender woman in a stylish pantsuit gazed back at him with equal interest. Short, brown hair framed a handsome face—not gorgeous, but attractive. He guessed her to be about his age, early thirties. But it was the expression in her eyes that got his attention. She looked directly at him in the manner of a woman who’d been around the block a few times and wouldn’t mind another trip.

He stepped into the office on the pretext of gathering his messages. “Thank you,” he said to Allison, holding out his hand without really looking at her. Looking at Allison St. Claire was not a good idea since it put too many lust-filled ideas in his head.

Allison frowned at his rudeness, and the fact that he didn’t bother reading the messages—again.

“Checking in?” he asked the new guest.

The woman made an affirmative humming noise as her gaze moved boldly down Scott’s body. Alli blushed on his behalf. But rather than take offense, he let his gaze take a trip of its own, down to the woman’s left hand to check for a ring. Well, at least he cared enough to see if she was married. When he didn’t see a ring, he smiled.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” he asked.

“Pleasure.” The woman all but purred. “You?”

“Definitely pleasure. I’m Scott, by the way.”

“Dr. Linda Lovejoy.” She held out her hand.

And I’m Alli, she wanted to say. Remember me? The person who is standing right here watching all of this?

Scott set the messages down as he shook the woman’s hand. “Doctor? As in M.D.?”

“Ph.D. Forensics specialist.”

“Oh really?” Scott arched a brow. “Police?”

“FBI.”

“Are you kidding?” His face lit up, like a boy who’d just been given a pony for Christmas. “You know”—he propped one hip on the desk—“crime scene analysis is one of my favorite subjects.”

“I’ll bet.” The woman laughed.

“No, I’m serious.”

Alli watched in amazement as Dr. Lovejoy, who had been all business a moment ago, tipped her head and smiled at Scott through her lashes. “Let me guess,” Linda said. “You’re either a cop, private investigator, or a writer.”

“I’ve been known to dabble at writing.”

Dabble? Alli choked.

He must have caught the sound, because he glanced at her, then shifted his body to block her out completely. As if she didn’t already feel like a third wheel.

“So,” he said to Linda, “is this your