LITMIR.BIZ

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needed more of Adam. She wanted more. Her heart beat so swiftly and loudly she was sure he could hear it. She scraped her fingernails lightly down his upper body. He groaned, the sound rumbling up from his chest. He leaned back, bracing himself on his elbows. And let her explore. This was different than the hurried couplings she’d had with boyfriends in the past. Encounters that had happened in the dark and were over almost before they’d begun. “Last chance to stop before we go too far, Grace.”

       Excerpt from “Adam’s Mistress” by Stephanie Grace

      Adam paid the check and escorted Grace out of the restaurant. He wasn’t sure what had happened in there. Seduction for him was a well-thought-out game and caressing her in the middle of a restaurant had not been his intent.

      He put his hand on the small of her back seemingly for the courtesy the gesture afforded, but he acknowledged to himself that he wanted to touch her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and feel her curves nestled against him.

      He wanted to kiss her, He wanted to take all the time he wanted to explore her. To figure out the mysterious depths that he sensed were hidden inside her.

      He didn’t want to go back to the school and drop her off. He didn’t want to spend the afternoon in meetings with Malcolm, who was out for revenge and wanted to close the school and then sell it. He didn’t want … to leave her.

      He liked the quietness she brought to him. The way she really listened when he talked. And the shyness that he had been able to coax her into forgetting while they’d been eating. He also liked her honesty. She wasn’t pretending to be someone else or hiding from the mess the school was in.

      Lies were something he simply couldn’t tolerate, even well-meaning ones, and with Grace he got the impression that she was as honest as the day was long. Though she didn’t see herself the same way he did.

      He loved her hair and wanted to see it falling around her shoulders instead of clasped at the back of her neck. He seated her in his car, a black Ferrari 599 GTB Fiorano, and walked around to the driver’s side.

      She fussed with her hair as he started the car.

      “What are you doing?”

      She glanced over at him, her head tipped to one side. But her hands stayed at the back of her neck. “My hair is a little wild and not very professional.”

      He could think of no woman who embodied professionalism more than Grace. He captured her wrist and pulled her hands free of her hair. The thick brown length of it spilled around her shoulders. She watched him with wide eyes, clearly waiting to see what he’d do next.

      “It’s not the hair that makes you professional.” She had no idea how upstanding she seemed. He’d never even glanced past the surface of who she was until he’d seen her secret fantasies written on the page. To be honest, a big part of the reason was that she gave the impression of being a no-nonsense, by-the-book administrator.

      “Easily said by a man. You have no idea what it’s like to be in a room full of perfectly coiffed, straight-haired women and be the only one with this hair,” she said, gesturing to her head.

      “Does putting it up make you more confident?” he asked. There was a sparkle in her eyes that he thought might be temper. But he knew she wouldn’t lose it with him. He was coming to know Grace better than he suspected she wanted him to. The fact of the matter was, Grace needed him to help save her school so she wouldn’t tell him off no matter how much he ticked her off.

      She shrugged, and he knew that he’d stumbled onto something more than a hairstyle choice. She glanced out the window as he turned on the car. He didn’t put the car in gear, only turned on the air conditioning so they didn’t roast while they continued the conversation.

      Which, it seemed, had stalled. She wasn’t going to say anything else and probably expected him to behave in a polite, gentlemanly fashion and let the subject drop. But this woman had written about him in a way that no other woman ever had. On page, she’d made him seem to be a hero. And Adam Bowen had never been anyone’s hero.

      “Grace …” he said, softly, reaching over to stroke her face. Her skin was the softest he’d ever touched.

      She flinched away from him. “Don’t, Adam. We can’t.”

      She was right. With the intense public scrutiny of the school, the last thing he should be thinking about was Grace and himself alone. But his mind was consumed with images of the two of them.

      He was careful to keep a barrier between himself and other people because he knew he’d always move on. Moving on was the way he survived, something he’d learned the hard way after the death of his parents. He remembered standing in the foyer of that big empty house that had always been filled with their presence and realizing he was all alone. Their deaths when his father’s twin-engine Cessna crashed had rocked his world.

      But even then he hadn’t realized how truly alone he was.

      She touched his hand, rubbing her finger over the back of his knuckles and making him realize how soft and small she was compared to him.

      “It’s not like we even know each other,” she said.

      “I want to change that. After all, you oversee one of my investment properties.”

      “Investment property? I thought the school was your family’s legacy.”

      “It’s a Bowen legacy, but I view it more from a financial angle,” he said in a way that didn’t invite more questions.

      “And if I don’t pull it out of trouble, you’re going to lose money—that’s your main concern?”

      He took her chin in his hand, moving her head up so that their eyes met. He waited a full minute before saying anything to her. Making sure she realized that he was not just using practiced lines to charm her.

      “No, Grace. Because you are the kind of woman who makes a man realize there’s more to life than investments.”

      “I am not. Why would you think that?”

      “The passion you have for Tremmel-Bowen.”

      “I’ve always had it, and you’ve never noticed me before today.”

      She had a point, but he wasn’t going to mention the story he’d read … “Adam’s Mistress.” He wanted her to reveal it to him. “It’s the way you defended the school and the students.”

      She took his wrist in both of her hands and tried to move his hand from her face. He let her push him away, his fingers caressing her skin as he dropped his hand to his lap.

      When he reached for her again, to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, she shifted in the seat and gave him a hard stare.

      “I’m warning you.”

      “Warning me?”

      “Yes. This kind of behavior and comments like you just made—that’s what I was talking about. Do you think I’ve never glanced in a mirror and seen myself? I know exactly the type of woman you usually have on your arm.”

      “I don’t have a type,” he said. He really didn’t. He liked all women no matter what their shape or style. He liked that their bodies were different than his. The feminine grace they used when they moved. The way they really got to the heart of the matter. Just as Grace was doing now, though it was making him uncomfortable. Hell, he thought, he even liked that with Grace. Liked the way she didn’t pretend that this was something casual.

      “Yeah, right,” she said. “I think it’s time we returned to the school.”

      He wondered if she’d sound so sure if she knew the thoughts that prim, school-headmistress tone gave him. He wanted to argue with her, get her to admit he didn’t have a type. But there would be time for that later. Tonight.

      The problems she’d left behind when she’d gone to lunch with Adam waited for her when she returned. Sue-Ellen had

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