Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

Three things occurred to Catherine Harris as she jerked awake from a dead sleep.

One. She was stark-naked in Luke Van Buren’s bed.

Two. He was about to enter his bedroom.

Three. He wasn't alone. A woman’s throaty laughter mingled with Luke’s deep baritone in the hallway.

Catherine tried not to panic. Suddenly years of planning didn’t seem like nearly enough time. She leaned up on her elbow, squinted into the darkness, remembered she’d thrown her bra over the clock to block the red LCD light, and flopped back on the pillow.

Several options, none of them viable, flashed through her sleep-fogged brain. Hiding under the bed while bedsprings bounced was too hideous to contemplate. As was the picture of the fire department rescuing her from the ledge outside Luke’s bedroom window, twenty-two stories above the street.

A soft thud. A shoe?

The sound of her own rapid pulse did nothing to block out the next thump. The swish of clothing. An impatient sigh. A damp, hungry kiss pressed to bare flesh. Framed in the open doorway, barely discernible, she made out the white of Luke’s shirt as the woman’s hands made fast work of removing it.

A flutter of pale shushed to the carpet. A click. Oh, God. His belt buckle? “Speak up, Catherine,” she whispered.

The distinct rasp of a zipper.

The sound of a juicy kiss.

Pulling the slick comforter to her chin, she tried to block out the murmurs.

“Oh, Luke!” The woman sounded blonde. More rustling, heated murmurs, breathy sighs. Catherine’s cheeks flamed, blood pounded in her ears.

Ohhhh, Lu-uuke? Mouth cotton-dry with dread, she anticipated the fireworks to come. Hysterical laughter bubbled up. She cleared her throat.

“Make love to me, Luke. Oh, yes. . .I adore when you touch me there. . .yes. Mmm, Oh, yes.”

Oh, no! Catherine tried to slither out of the way before the woman flopped onto the bed like a beached minnow. Too late.

The weight of two full-grown adults squashed the air out of Catherine’s lungs. She grunted, and tried to wriggle out from under, but found absolutely no traction on satin sheets.

The woman rolled to the side, shot to her feet, and let out a bloodcurdling scream. With a thump and a curse, Luke landed on the floor beside the bed.

“What in God’s name-”

“There’s someone in your bed,” the woman shrieked.

Darkness pulsed for several moments as Luke got to his feet. Catherine heard him fumble for the switch on the bedside lamp. Show time.

She sat up, tucked the slithery sheet under her armpits, and tried her best to appear nonchalant. Chances were she looked like the wild woman of Borneo. She hadn’t braided her hair before she’d gone to bed; it frothed and foamed about her bare shoulders and tickled the tops of her breasts. The bedside light snapped on just as she blew a particularly stubborn hank out of her eyes. As she squinted into the brightness, her gaze clashed with the pair of narrowed gray-green eyes boring a hole into the middle of her forehead.

“Catherine.” Luke zipped his pants, then buckled his belt before raking his fingers through his already disheveled dark hair. His broad, hairy chest expanded with the ragged, frustrated breath he dragged into his lungs.

Reluctantly she tore her gaze from his splendidly naked chest and waited for the dragon to roar. He appeared twice as tall as six-foot-three, and three times as irritated as he'd been when she’d backed his new sports car into the mailbox years ago.

His look pinned her in place. “I might have known.” He plucked her bra off the clock. “Yours?” The black sports bra hung like a limp piece of licorice in his large, well-shaped hand.

Catherine leaned forward just enough to take the bra without losing her grip on the safely tucked sheet. “Thanks.” The brush of his fingers sent an electrical charge up her arm.

She cleared her throat, then decided to live dangerously. She fluttered her eyelashes up at him. “Does this mean I have to get dressed now, honey?”