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Jennifer shivered at his words. She hadn't thought she'd have the guts to go through with this. And she especially hadn't thought, in a million years, that Stephen would respond as he had.
Under different circumstances, Jennifer wouldn't have considered Stephen Lemont potential lover material. He was a brilliant director, passionate about every play he put his energies into. She'd always enjoyed talking with him at the interminable functions they were both forced to attend, functions to which he escorted his latest Date of the Moment. But he'd never had much physical appeal for Jennifer.
But at the wedding ceremony, as Stephen had escorted Genera down the aisle, Jennifer's opinion about him had flipped a full one-eighty. Stephen, a tall, dark-haired, well-built man who could carry off almost any style of clothing with an understated elegance, looked damned good in his tux. If that hadn't been enough, there had been the emotion brimming in his face as he kissed Genera at the altar and shook the groom's hand. That was about the point Jennifer recognized a feeling she hadn't experienced in years--not since she'd ended things with her fiancé--the gut-wrench of extreme sexual heat.
Throughout the ceremony, she sat quietly, outwardly serene. But her insides churned as her mind created erotic images of herself and Stephen, together, naked, performing all kinds of wanton acts with one another.