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      Books by Nalini Singh

      Silhouette Desire

      Desert Warrior #1529

      Awaken to Pleasure #1602

      NALINI SINGH

      has always wanted to be a writer. Along the way to her dream, she obtained degrees in both the arts and law (because being a starving writer didn’t appeal). After a short stint as a lawyer, she sold her first book, and from that point, there was no going back. Now an escapee from the corporate world, she is looking forward to a lifetime of writing, interspersed with as much travel as possible. Currently residing in Japan, Nalini loves to hear from readers. You can contact her via the following e-mail address: [email protected]; or by writing to her c/o Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

      To Diane Dietz, editor extraordinaire, and the team at Silhouette Desire—thanks for taking a chance on me.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Epilogue

      One

      Rain slashed against the windscreen of Jackson’s car with fierce intensity. Aware of the dangers inherent in the dark winter’s night, he kept the speed of his powerful car well under control, watching out for reckless pedestrians.

      However, in sharp contrast to the usual Friday night crowds, there was an almost deserted air about the brightly lit centre of Auckland. He knew it was illusionary. The revelers were there but hidden in soundproofed, weatherproofed basements and upstairs rooms, full of pumping music that drowned out the driving rain. He’d passed one such room on his way out of his studio office. It had been the site of a wrap party for a murder drama.

      A reed-thin blonde had caught him leaving the building and invited him to join in. Her eyes had been frank with invitation for a much more private party. Unfortunately for her ambition, he didn’t play those kinds of games, and ever since Bonnie, blondes held about as much appeal as arsenic.

      After the day he’d had, all he wanted was some cognac and a hot bath. Taylor looked like she could do with both. The poor baby was standing outside in the icy rain, waiting for a bus, her face pinched with cold. She could probably do with a hot man in bed as well but…

      Taylor?

      Standing in the pouring rain under a barely glowing streetlight, shivering and blue?

      “Dio!” He screeched to a stop and then backed up, thanking God for the lack of traffic. As soon as he reached her, he leaned across and threw open the passenger door. “Get the hell in!” The weather obliged, but Taylor didn’t.

      The sodden woman outside made a face, as if debating whether to take his less than warm offer. Needle-sharp rain continued to pelt her, hard and certainly painful, even through the thick wool of her pantsuit. “The bus is supposed to come any m-m-m-minute.”

      Her chattering teeth enraged Jackson. For a second, he thought he saw fear in those big eyes of hers but it had to have been a trick of the light. He’d never met a woman less afraid of him than this bedraggled creature. “Get in here right now, Taylor.”

      She looked like she was going to be obstinate, but then the universe took pity on him. It started to hail. With a tiny shriek that was undeniably feminine, she scrambled into the car and pulled the door shut. Her trembling hands immediately went to the warm air circulating from the ventilation shafts.

      He turned up the heat before pulling away from the curb to make a right turn instead of going left. Taylor lived on the opposite side of the city from him. Outside, the night had become immeasurably darker, but the hailstorm petered away after a short but brutal reign.

      “I’m

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