LITMIR.BIZ

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For Michele Goes, my childhood friend who always encouraged me to tell stories with a happy ending.

       From our Barbie scenarios to our bedtime stories, we wanted the women to triumph! Thank you, Michele, for helping me to realize a dream. I wish you every happiness.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      1

      Let the hunt begin…

      BREASTS BOUNCED in every direction on the dance floor of the Moulin Rouge Lounge. The hottest new nightclub on South Beach overflowed with women dressed in clothes that would be at home on the beach as much as the bar scene—halter tops, plunging necklines and enough Lycra to clothe the U.S. swim team well into the next decade.

      Despite the dazzling display of feminine flesh highlighted by flashing blue strobe lights, attorney Jackson Taggart wasn’t looking for breasts. Other guys might get caught up in cup sizes or long legs, but for his first venture into Miami’s decadent nightlife in nearly a year, Jackson narrowed his focus to one thing.

      Tonight, he’d sell his soul for the woman with the right…mouth.

      In an effort to forget the hell his private life had become over the last few weeks, he watched women of every shape and size flirt, dance and sip brightly colored drinks from the Moulin Rouge’s signature bar glasses featuring the frilly panties of a cancan girl with long, stocking clad legs.

      He had a certain woman in mind, a woman unlike any he’d ever been with before. A bedroom goddess who didn’t give a damn about his well-known family or the scandal of the decade in which they were currently ensnared.

      Flagging a brunette bartender dressed in a uniform of silky white lingerie, Jackson started to request his standard imported beer and stopped himself. The hunt for a wild bedroom goddess at least deserved a shot of whiskey. His order given, he settled in for the search, eager to engage in anything that didn’t involve damage control in the media, angry family shouting matches and an ever-looming pressure to enter a cutthroat state legislature race.

      Damn.

      Tossing back his whiskey, he concentrated on a single, simple task.

      Finding the right mouth.

      He scanned the crowd and found…pink bubblegum lips. Nah. Too sweet for what he had in mind. And even worse, too much like his ex-girlfriend.

      Sparkly gold lips. High-maintenance diva—not a chance.

      Bright-red lips looked wild enough, but broadening his visual scan he noted that the pale face and solid black outfit looked a bit Goth. Too moody.

      None of those mouths pointed to the kind of woman he needed to find. But he had no intention of going home unfulfilled. Not this time.

      Then he spied them.

      The deep, rich muted burgundy that was neither too red nor too purple. Soft, full lips that suggested lush sensuality. A lack of shiny lip gloss made for a mouth that was at once kissable and not too self-conscious.

      Bingo.

      Jackson flung a bill across the bar to pay for his drink, scarcely noticing the glass-encased waterfall behind the throng of busy bartenders. Already on the move, he followed the woman who had caught his attention as she turned away and headed toward the back of the room.

      From the brief glimpse he’d snagged of her face, he acknowledged she was uncommonly pretty. Still, he had a vague impression of her being a little unusual. Something about the odd mix of fabrics in her rosy-hued dress with the ragged hem maybe, or the wavy flaxen mermaid hair decorated with scattered thin braids that looked to be…pink?

      He caught up with her just inside the bar’s back room—a decadent lounge ringed with private, curtained booths. She met a tall woman with auburn hair and kick-ass legs dressed in an unadorned, steel-gray cat suit. He didn’t bother checking out her lips. He’d already found perfection.

      Straying closer to their position near a scaled-down minibar, Jackson didn’t necessarily mean to overhear them. They shouted over the music, making it nearly impossible not to hear them. Especially considering he loomed just a few feet away.

      “No luck with the manhunt?” the auburn-haired woman asked between sips of a green drink. Margarita, maybe.

      The blonde shook her head and rolled her eyes. She was as expressive as the redhead was reserved. “Every guy I’ve met here has been too forward,

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