LITMIR.BIZ

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Her coworkers were sitting around the patio table, stuffing their faces with shrimp and guzzling goblets of wine.

      “I guess we’re staying,” she announced, laughing. “But we better get out there before all the food is gone. Electra used to be an amateur bodybuilder, and I once saw her eat a whole turkey for lunch!”

      “Why don’t we sit in the living room? It’s quiet, and we’ll be more comfortable than out on the patio.”

      “Shouldn’t we join your friends? After all, you are the one hosting the party.”

      “They’ve got food, beer and five very attractive women to keep them company,” he pointed out. “They don’t need me. And besides, I’d much rather spend more time talking with you.”

      Her blood pressure spiked. Dominique could feel the energy pulsing between them and wondered if he did, too. He was standing astoundingly close to her, but she didn’t—no, couldn’t—move away. “Well, in that case I just have one question,” she said, slanting her head to the right. “Do you have any crazy ex-wives or baby mamas I need to know about?”

      “Not that I know of.”

      Dominique wore a sultry smile. “Good, then let’s eat!”

      They relaxed comfortably on the sofa and discussed current events while they ate dinner. Conversation came easily, and Marcel loved hearing such a smart, savvy sister talk about business and politics. Overflowing with confidence, Dominique didn’t shy away from sharing her opinion or challenging his views. She loved art and music and shared his passion for literature. Without fear, she spoke like a woman who had all of the answers to life’s problems, and when she closed her eyes and began reciting a Prodigal C. Lewis poem, he was blown away.

      “The beauty of your smile consumes my soul; lost, I turn to you for self-control.” She whispered the lines, the words flowing gracefully off her lips. “For love and all the pleasures it can give, are found in you and we’ll eternally live.” Dominique placed a hand on her chest. “Have you ever heard anything so moving?”

      “I toured Prodigal C. Lewis’s village when I went to Marco Island a few years ago.” Hoping to impress her, he spoke truthfully about the experience. “Seeing his childhood home had a profound effect on me, and even after all these years, I still remember how inspired I felt reading the notes scribbled on his bedroom walls.”

      “Wow, I’m so jealous. I’d love to see where he grew up.” Her voice dripped with awe. “Prodigal C. Lewis is one of the most prolific poets who ever lived, and every time I read Enchanted Souls I always break down and cry.”

      “Me, too.”

      She arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

      “Uh-huh. I’m one of those deep, sensitive brothers who isn’t afraid to show his emotions,” he said, fighting to keep a straight face. When Dominique rolled her eyes, he chuckled. “Isn’t that what every woman wants? A man with a soft, tender side?”

      “That’s not what I want! That’s how I like my steak!” She tossed back her head and laughed. “The truth is I want to be wined and dined and romanced.”

      “Well, in that case, I better keep the Chablis coming!” Marcel lifted the wine bottle and tipped it toward her goblet. “There’s just enough to fill your glass.”

      Dominique stretched out her hand, preventing him from pouring. “I can’t. I’m the designated driver tonight, and I’ve already reached my limit.”

      “If you need to, you’re more than welcome to spend the night.”

      “Right,” she quipped, “me and the girls will sleep on the couch.”

      “This estate has five master bedrooms, so if you’re not up to driving, you can all stay here.”

      At first, Dominique thought he was joking, but when she saw the concern in his eyes, she knew he was serious. Lean and dark with clear brown skin, Marcel had governance about him, a gentility that instantly put her at ease. She’d only known him for a few hours, but she wasn’t put off by his shocking offer. “We’ll be okay. It’s a short drive back to the spa and—”

      Marcel touched her leg, and her voice failed. Stunned by the tenderness of his caress, she put a hand to her chest, hoping to control her staggering heartbeat. Reminding herself that he was a stranger—albeit a very attractive one—helped her remain focused. Apprehension tempered her desire, but he had lips she wanted to kiss, hands she ached to hold, and eyes so dreamy that she felt light-headed just looking at him.

      “I hope you don’t think I’m coming on too strong. I just want you to be safe.”

      Kissing a man she’d known for all of three hours was unimaginable, but it was all Dominique could think of. To keep from acting on her feelings, she shifted over ever so slightly. Better. Now their legs weren’t touching.

      Needing a distraction, Dominique stared out the living-room window. A recreational haven, the upscale suburban community had it all—a sports complex the size of a football field, wide bike paths that sloped around steep valleys and inspiring mountain views. “This is a lot of house for one person,” she noted, stealing a quick glance at him. “Do you live here alone?”

      “I wish,” he said, with a light chuckle. “This is my uncle’s place. I’m just house-sitting while he’s away on business.”

      She wore a surprised, slightly puzzled look on her face. “This is not your house?”

      Marcel heard the disappointment in her voice and wished he’d said something sooner. Of course she thought the mansion belonged to him. And wasn’t that what he’d wanted her to think? He’d never met such a smart, vibrant woman, and their connection was unlike anything he’d ever known. Dominique King was a standout beauty living the good life, and he had nothing to offer her. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy her company for a few more minutes, did it? Still he decided to remain truthful.

      “Do you live nearby?” she asked.

      “No, I’m all the way up in Hurst Park.”

      Dominique gulped. The working-class neighbourhood was a far cry from Beacon Hill, and according to the evening news it was a hotbed for gang activity. Let down, she tried not to let her disapproval show. “What do you do for a living?”

      “I’m a full-time graduate student and part-time research assistant.” Wearing a self-conscious grin, he rubbed a hand over his fine, textured hair. “As you can imagine, the biomedical engineering program at the Seattle University is very demanding. I spend a lot of hours studying, and that doesn’t leave me much time for anything else.”

      Her face fell. Marcel was a penniless graduate student living in the east end? The best thing Dominique had ever done for herself was to kick her lazy, philandering ex-husband to the curb, and she wasn’t interested in dating another broke man. Dating a student—even one as fine as Marcel Benoit—wasn’t an option.

      Feeling a twinge of guilt, she dodged his intrusive gaze. An awkward silence ensued. During dinner they’d talked to each other, and now she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Was it true what her sisters said about her? Was she an uptight snob who gave men a hard time?

      To assuage her conscience, she asked Marcel about his plans for the future. Finding an engineering position was his goal, and although graduation was still four months away, he’d already been on a dozen interviews.

      “I know we don’t know each other that well, but I was hoping—”

      “I can’t go out with you,” she blurted. Remembering her father’s own humble beginnings made Dominique readjust her attitude. Her dad had worked a slew of minimum-wage jobs to put himself through law school and had graduated at the top of his class. “You’re a nice guy, but I just don’t have time to date.”

      Marcel forced a smile, but inside he was seething. What was it with these career women? They complained about not

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