LITMIR.BIZ

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just maybe part of him looked forward to thumbing his nose at his family, the press and all his government contacts pressuring him to run in a race he hadn’t had time to really even consider.

      Dating unconventional Summer would certainly be a public declaration that he was tired of being the golden-boy bachelor.

      After too many years of dating ambitious society debs who played all the same games as him, he’d have a hell of a time smashing that picture-perfect image of himself.

      If he wanted any of those things to materialize, however, he needed to stay out of Summer’s bed tonight.

      Pulling away from her sultry embrace despite the flames licking over him, Jackson searched for a breath that wasn’t laden with the musky floral scent of her.

      Found none.

      Much to his male satisfaction, her eyes remained closed for a long moment afterward. It would be so easy to resume their kiss, to follow the irresistible pull of her…

      Desperate for a way to keep things under control before he lost it completely, Jackson’s gaze seized on the pile of lingerie on the other side of the room.

      Thank you, God.

      “So is it my turn to ask the questions yet?” He traced a line down the bare skin of her arm and slipped his hand around her fingers. Her nails were short, painted with barely-there polish. She wore a silver band woven with a Celtic pattern on one thumb.

      She blinked twice, tucked a strand of silky blond hair behind one ear. “Ask away.”

      “Is that your lingerie over there?” His loosened tie and unbuttoned collar didn’t make him feel any less hot. And although Summer’s lingerie collection wasn’t exactly safe conversational territory, it was a damn sight better than falling into bed with her before he could find out more about her.

      “I chose the pieces, but they’re all going to be specialty amenities and props for the bordello.” She eased her fingers from his grip and made her way toward the coffee table where the mountain of silk, satin and velvet presided. “Some are vintage and some are new, but they’re all reminiscent of nineteenth-century bordello garb.”

      To illustrate, she held up a creamy-colored corset thing edged in black lace. Black satin garters dangled from the bottom.

      “Very nice.” He peered from the creamy corset to the crimson lace-up garment Summer was wearing. “It’s sort of like what you have…on.”

      An image of those garters hugging her thighs blasted into his brain in full-blown color. His throat promptly dried to dust.

      A wicked smile kicked up the corners of her mouth. “It’s exactly what I have on. Same vendor, different color. I have to admit this job is dangerous to my personal budget, but I find a lot of gorgeous clothes and furnishings this way. Did you know I’m the ambiance coordinator for the club?”

      He hadn’t known, and he scrambled to pick up the conversational thread before he drowned in sensual visions of Summer’s pale thighs draped in black satin and lace.

      “Is that like a decorator?” His voice sounded strangled even in his own ears.

      “The decorating is just a part of my job. I have a hand in the total sensual experience of Club Paradise from the food and the music to the colors, party themes, flowers…” She laid the creamy corset back on the pile of silky undergarments. “…and occasionally, lingerie.”

      The comment called to mind snippets of the conversation he’d heard between Summer and her girlfriend earlier. He happened to know the bordello was her favorite fantasy room.

      “So did you come up with the concepts for the hotel suites?” Crossing the thick pile carpet to where she stood near the sitting area, Jackson peered around the room with new eyes, taking in the details of the lush seating, the silver-plated cigar box on the night stand, the framed sepia-toned photographs depicting half-clad women from another era.

      “I brainstormed with my partners to come up with the themes and then I ran with them.” She reached into the open cherry armoire and pulled out a padded hanger. With careful fingers, she draped a frothy pink scrap of lace across the padding and hung the costume in the closet. “I’m proud to claim full responsibility for the bordello however.”

      He recalled her wistful remark to her friend about being totally overwhelmed and at a man’s whim. Dangerous, forbidden knowledge he had no right to have heard.

      Still, he’d trade his stellar track record as a trial lawyer for a chance to be a part of Summer’s fantasies.

      “You should be.” He walked over to the silver cigar box to prevent his restless body from getting closer to her again. He didn’t know how much longer he could be in the same room with Summer without touching her again. Removing one of the Cuban smokes from its velvet-lined case he sniffed the aroma. “I’m no expert on the historical authenticity, but if you were aiming for a design that promotes intense sexual thoughts, the ambiance of the bordello is dead-on.”

      Summer watched Jackson finger the cigar before replacing it in the box, his words causing her blood to pump a bit faster through her veins. She paused as she reached for a wine-colored merry widow and straightened.

      Did he think to play games with her that he would rev her engines so acutely and then turn away?

      “Actually, I’m beginning to wonder if I failed miserably in the design now that I’ve shared this room with a man for the first time. How come a room that promotes intense sexual thoughts doesn’t inspire any actual…sex?”

      Jackson flipped the lid closed on the cigar box. When his gaze met hers across the room, his eyes glittered with new heat. “Never let it be said I left this room uninspired tonight.”

      As he turned more fully toward her, the tent-effect of his trousers told her just how inspired he’d grown.

      Realizing she was staring, she struggled to lift her gaze. Failed.

      Had she had that affect on him?

      Suddenly she felt quite inspired herself. She blurted the first thought that entered her mind. “So why leave the room at all?”

      The question hung there, an echoing reminder of her recklessness.

      When he didn’t answer right away, Summer couldn’t resist the urge to keep right on talking, thinking out loud. “Or is that too impulsive for you, Jackson? As a public figure, do you need to script out your every move ahead of time, or can you ever act according to whim and…inspiration?”

      “I can act on impulse when the situation calls for it.” He crossed the room, his slow, deliberate steps a physical reminder of the way he carefully crafted his next move. “But when something is very important to me, I’d prefer to rely on well-thought out strategy.”

      The implication that she—a free-spirited gypsy who’d never stayed anywhere longer than six months until now—might rank as important to him caught her off guard. She’d had to say goodbye to too many friends in her life to risk her emotions with someone who thought she might be important. Much easier to keep things simple. And okay, maybe a little superficial.

      “How am I ever going to teach you to go wild with that kind of attitude?” Planting a fist on her hip she licked her lips, flirting openly. She still held out hope she could sway him to break his rigid ideas of how this relationship was going to progress. “You must realize careful strategy is directly opposed to everything that being wild represents.”

      “I think we can effectively co-exist on both ends of the spectrum.” He halted a few steps from her, almost as if he drew a mental line between them.

      What would he do with all his damn strategy if she plastered herself against him right now and let her body to the talking?

      Then again, according to the local newspaper, Jackson Taggart had made a name for himself in Miami with thorough trial preparation and an ambitious career strategy. He’d left the lucrative

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