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

Her brows shot up. “Have you talked to a therapist about this god complex and violent streak of yours?”

“And risk ruining my career?” He feigned horror. “What would my readers say?”

“You’re right. Forget I said anything. As one of your readers, I much prefer you slightly insane.” She kissed his shoulder. “Speaking of your books, are you going to tell me about the one you’re writing now?”

For a heartbeat, his face went blank. Then he narrowed his eyes. “So, this was all a dastardly plot to relax me with sex, catch me off guard, and wheedle information out of me.” His voice took on a German accent. “Confess ze truth and I may let you live. Someone put you up to zis, eh?”

Her eyes widened. “I’m innocent, I swear.”

In one swift move, he had her on her back, her hands pinned to the mattress above her head. “Who are you spying for, Fraulein?”

“No one.”

“Ve have vays to make you talk.” He transferred both her wrists to one hand and tickled her ribs until she convulsed with laughter. “Vas it another author who vants to steal my brilliant ideas?”

“No, no.” She writhed beneath him, laughing so hard, her sides ached.

“My editor, Frau Kommandant?”

“You’ll never torture it out of me.” She thrashed her head from side to side, tears of mirth wetting her lashes.

“Aaah, I know. It vas my agent. Ze two of you devised zis scheme together.”

“All right, I confess. It was Hugh Ashton. He asked me to run away with him to Tahiti and I couldn’t resist.”

“Aha! I knew it.” He rolled on top of her, his body pressing her into the mattress. “And now, you must be punished for consorting with ze enemy.” His mouth took hers in a deep, drugging kiss.

She was dizzy by the time he lifted his head. “No more,” she sighed, stretching up toward his mouth. “I can’t take it. Have mercy.”

“I have no mercy for traitors.” He kissed her again.

She melted beneath him, enjoying the way he made her body sing with excitement. When he moved to her neck, she pressed her lips to his ear. “So, what is your book about?”

Groaning, he rolled off her and sprawled on his back staring at the ceiling.

She propped her head on her hand and wrapped a bit of chest hair around one finger. “Ve have vays to make you talk.” She gave a warning tug and his hand covered hers.

“No.” His eyes lost their teasing light as he looked up at her. “I’m officially taking the day off. No talk of writing. For today, I don’t even want to think about writing.”

“All right.” She tried to hide her disappointment that the playful mood had ended. “What do you want to think about?”

“That depends.” He came up on both elbows. “What are we going to do today?”

“I assumed we’d go back to the inn once we checked out.”

“Do you have to go straight back?”

“I should.” Her shoulders slumped. “There’s always rooms to clean, towels to wash, and the gift shop to dust and straighten. Although I’ve hardly taken any time off since we opened.”

“In other words, you could get away with playing hooky if you wanted to.”

“Hooky?” The word piqued her interest.

“You know, like you did back in high school.”

“I never played hooky.”

“You’re kidding.” He stared at her. “Man, and I thought my childhood was deprived.”

“So, how’s it done?” she asked eagerly.

“First, name something you’d really like to do that you haven’t done in a while?”

“Anything?”

“Well, anything we can do together.”

She blushed, and glanced down at his body.

“Besides that, you wanton thing.”

She thought a minute. “I don’t suppose you ride horseback.”

“Are you kidding?” He snorted. “When my family came here in the summer, riding horses on the beach ranked right up there with surfing and ogling babes in bikinis.”

“Really?” She sat up with the sheet tucked loosely about her. “I wonder if the stable out on Stewart Road still rents horses by the hour.”

“We could find out,” he said. “Do you have the right clothes to wear?”

“Well, not on me.”

“Obviously.” He grinned at the portion of breasts visible above the sheet.

“But I still have some jeans and riding boots at my aunt’s house. That’s where we were living until we moved into the inn. We haven’t bothered to move everything out since Aunt Viv isn’t using the place.”

“Aunt Viv?” Scott’s eyes narrowed. “As in the Incomparable Vivian Young, star of Broadway, right?”

“You’ve heard of her?”

“I’m a hopeless addict of movies, plays, and other people’s books.” He touched his forehead. “If memory serves, you’ve had several famous performers in your family, all the way back to Marguerite.”

“True.” She nodded. “In fact, Adrian, Rory, and I are the first generation who haven’t had any interest in the stage.”

“Now there’s bound to be a story behind that statement.”

“I guess, but I doubt it would hold your interest.”

He gave her a wry look. “I’m always interested in hearing a story. I have to warn you though, anything you say may be used in my next book.”

She smiled. “All right then. Take me horseback riding, and I’ll be happy to bore you to tears.”

“You got it, sweetheart.” He tossed back the covers and leapt from the bed, gloriously nude. “You get dressed while I call the stables.”

Half an hour later, when Scott emerged from his turn in the bathroom, Allison was dressed and hanging up the phone from calling the inn.

“Everything all clear?” Scott asked.

“Yep.” She gave him a stiff smile. “Adrian isn’t happy, but he’s taken off more days than I have, so there wasn’t much he could say.”

Nodding, Scott headed for the closet and pulled on jeans and a black T-shirt.

“Do you always wear so much black?” Allison asked as she dug through her luggage for a pair of sandals to go with her yellow tank top and tropical-print skirt.

“Pretty much.” He sat on the bed and pulled on the black cowboy boots he’d worn the night before. “But before you go thinking it’s some political statement