[Cerise DeLand's got a new two-book boxed of romantic suspense books. Only 99 cents for a limited time! ~ Lisabet]
No
Night Without You
Book
1
What
if a man wants to savor one of his employees after hours—and she’s
never even given him the time of day?
What
if he’s honorable? And he sees her attacked?
Tate
Ryder chucks his ethics in a heartbeat.
But
Anna Stevens can’t let Tate protect her. He’s sweet. He’s damn
delicious. But he could get hurt. And she knows if shows him how
deeply she cares for him, he won’t back off.
Good
for her that Tate won’t take no for an answer.
Good
for him that Anna has hungered for him for years.
Too
bad no one can protect her from the secret that’s stalked her all
her life.
No
Night Too Long
Book
2
What
if a man can’t forget one special woman who left him months ago
without a word?
What
if she suddenly appears one morning in Venice at the same meeting
with the same agenda?
And
she apologizes. Explains.
Coco
Dalton isn’t just a photographer. She’s much more—and because
of a job gone wrong, she’s in trouble. Desperate trouble.
Grant
Warwick is stunned.
Can
he help her?
He
has to—or she’ll lose her life and he’ll lose his reason to
live.
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Excerpt from No Night Without You.
Tate
Ryder tore his eyes away from the vision of elegant Anna Stevens as
she strode toward him onto the veranda of his Houston penthouse. She
fished in the pocket of her black satin trousers and brought out her
cell phone. With a frown on her face, she answered a call.
So,
yeah. She wasn’t looking for him. She didn’t want to chat. Break
down the walls between him and her. She never did.
He
bit the inside of his cheek and reminded himself once more of the
three rules he never broke. Don’t borrow trouble. Don’t start
anything you can’t finish. And most important of all, don’t
romance the staff.
Leaning
back on the railing, he gazed through the glass walls of his condo
and surveyed the party raging inside. He congratulated himself he’d
never approached Anna as anything other than the CEO of Ryder Resorts
and Spas. God knew, every time he got within twenty feet of his
director of oriental meditation services, he needed to chill. Even
now from the corner of his eye, he could feel her seep into his
pores. Hear her sandpaper contralto that rubbed his body into a hot
rash of desire.
Like
her voice is the only asset that makes me pant. How about those
long legs in those flowing slacks? The pert breasts poking up in that
ruffled silk blouse. The grace of her in stilettos. The full-throated
laughter that usually marked her personality. That wasn’t apparent
tonight, but what the hell. The whole package made him ache.
Don’t
do the staff.
For
the past two years, he’d been such a good CEO and followed that
rule with her. And it took more than an ounce of willpower every damn
day to keep his eyes polite and sweaty palms to himself.
Sure,
he praised himself for his dedication to being an ethical boss, but
damn, if he didn’t still want her. Good thing she hadn’t ever
indicated any interest in him.
Like
that matters. Her rich beauty burned his brain. Worse, his cock
got locked and loaded every time he looked at her.
He
downed a swig of his champagne and cursed his dilemma.
She
was nothing like the women who used to attract him. Lithe, delicate,
Anna sported a cloud of rich rosewood hair, sprinkles of freckles on
her nose, flawless porcelain skin and the biggest set of hazel eyes
he’d ever seen. The yoga and Pilates director at the Texas Gulf
Coast spa he owned with his brother Cord and sister-in-law Sienna,
Anna moved like a sea breeze. She had firm breasts that stood up
without benefit of a bra, her huge flat nipples outlined in the
ridiculously thin leotards she wore to work. But what really worked
him over were her legs. Long as a gazelle’s, they were beautifully
cut from years of working-out. The hollow of her inner thigh was a
curve he longed to bury his face in. Better yet, her thighs were
supple muscular treats that deserved to be grasped and opened often
by a man who knew how to lavish kisses on her and make her purr.
He
licked his lower lip, wondering for the thousandth time what she
tasted like. He shifted, his cock rising to the fantasy that never
left him.
He
swallowed back his frustration. He was the host here in his condo, he
should act like it. Mix. Mingle. Try to summon some interest in any
one of the women in attendance tonight who neither worked for him nor
wanted anything from him except maybe a great time in bed.
He
downed his drink. Like he’d even been able to get interested in any
woman except Anna for the past year. He had one night stands.
Correction. More like, one hour stands. For all the exercise his cock
was getting lately, he might as well become a monk. “Time to think
about getting laid with someone you can have.”
“Talking
to yourself these days?” His older brother Cord clamped a hand on
his shoulder. Mona Travis, their friend and owner of another chain of
spas in the U.S., stood beside him.
Tate
shot them both a grim look. “What I do best.”
Cord
chuckled. “Only about one subject.”
Mona
arched a long thin brow. “Are you drooling over Anna again?”
Tate
scoffed. “Should I wear a billboard?”
“Ever
since the day you hired her away from me,” Mona taunted Tate,
“you’ve had a fever for the lady.”
“Does
not compute, you guys.” Tate warned. “The lady is not
interested.”
“I
do wonder why.” Cord cast an eye at Tate’s auburn hair. “You
are a catch, man. Rich, good looking.”
“Says
you. But I’m resigned. She’s never given me a second look and my
poor damaged ego can’t bear to ask her why. Plus, I am not going to
break our rule.” Cord had spoken to Tate frequently lately,
recognizing Tate’s desire for Anna was a temptation. But Tate had
never broken a trust with his brother—and didn’t intend to. Not
for a woman who couldn’t care less for him.
Cord
nodded. “Good thinking. Me? I’m just saying good night. I’ve
greeted everyone. So we are officially in good shape for the opening
of the Texas spa. But I’ve got to home. Sienna needs me.”
Tate
smiled. “Sure. Do it. Those twins are demanding little guys.”
“Sienna’s
still exhausted from their birth.”
“I’ve
got control here. I’ll show all these folks the door soon anyway. I
need my beauty sleep to get an early start in the morning. The boat’s
ready, stocked with food and supplies.”
“Mexico?”
Mona asked.
“Yep,”
Tate said. “They screwed up the plumbing on the first foundation
and have to pour a new one.”
“And
they’re late,” Cord added with a scowl.
“What
else is new?” Mona commiserated, then leaned forward to kiss Tate’s
cheek. “I’m leaving too, honey. Early day tomorrow with one of my
importers from Monterrey.”
“Take
it easy, Mona.” Tate gave her a hug. The older woman had become a
good friend over the past few years as well as a business associate.
As she walked toward the door, he took stock of the people in his
living room. The builders, the architects and suppliers for the Texas
Gulf Coast property mixed with the resort spa’s staff, laughing and
joking, celebrating the beginning of construction of their Mexican
spa and resort.
He
glanced at his brother. “Go home to your wife and babies.”
“Give
‘em hell down there, Tate. That new foundation should’ve been
finished last month.”
“I
won’t pay the next installment until it’s done. No worries, Cord.
Good night.” He slapped his brother on the back.
As
Cord made his way through the throng toward the front door, Tate saw
that crowd was thinning, many drifting toward the door. He spied Anna
at the far end of the veranda. Alone. Leaning away from him so he
couldn’t overhear her conversation.
Some
discussion that was to put that terrified look on her face.
What
the hell?
She
had no family. He’d learned that much about her during the past two
years. Friends. Sure, she had loads of girl friends. He saw them come
for her by the carload often to pick her up after work or dart in to
the spa to meet her for lunch. Men were another story. She didn’t
date. Or no men he’d ever heard of. None he’d ever seen her bring
to their corporate dinners or parties. He’d wondered at one point
if she preferred women, but his sister-in-law Sienna had soon cleared
up that misperception.
“Anna
is saving herself for Mr. Right.”
That
told him four things that alternately thrilled him and destroyed him.
She liked men. Wanted one. One right man. But clearly, he wasn’t a
candidate.
He
examined her as she argued with whoever was on the other end of that
conversation. Was that a man?
Curiosity
and jealousy drove him forward. If it was a guy who put that
expression on her face, Tate would crush the asshole.
Tate
halted in front of her and lifted his chin toward the phone, a
question forming on his lips.
She
watched him approach, her eyes growing rounder, starker with fear
that made Tate narrow his eyes at her.
She
put a hand up to ward him off.
He
shook his head at her.
“No,”
she ordered the person on the other end, “do not do that.”
Tate
could hear the person reply, something dark, angry and male.
She
fumed. “I told you no. Do not call me again.” She stared up at
Tate as she ended the call and dropped her cell in her trouser
pocket.
He
caught her wrist. “What’s wrong, Anna?”
“Nothing.”
She stepped to one side. “Let go.”
“No.”
He put two hands to her upper arms. Something he’d never done. But
he was jarred by how strong, how honed her triceps were. And the
tension rippling there froze him. “Do you always tremble for no
reason?”
She
jerked out of his hold. “This is none of your business.”
He
stepped forward and contrary to that rule about borrowing trouble, he
knew he had to do something about hers. “This does concern me.
You’re scared. Why?”
“Forget
it, Tate.” She yanked away from him. “I’ve got to go.”
Once
more, she did what she’d done so well for two years. She’d been
impersonal with him. Professional. Putting him in his place.
He
fumed silently as she marched toward the hall closet where she
collected her shawl and flung it over her arm. On her way, she hugged
Mona who was saying her own good–byes to a builder. Then Anna
opened the front door and let herself out.
He’d
never seen her afraid. Never seen her angry. She was so
even-tempered, happy, throwing back her mane of rich chocolate hair
to laugh at most of life. That had been the first thing that struck
him about her. Her enjoyment of little things, all things small and
joyful. He’d never known a woman like that.
And
he liked women. Loved to be with them. Especially in bed. But as
years went on, he found fewer and fewer who attracted him. Those he
did take to bed were certainly beautiful. Most were spoiled or wanted
to be. They were self-impressed. Self-gratifying. Eager to say they’d
been laid by Super Bowl football legend, Tate Ryder. But Anna was
nothing like any of those women.
And
it gutted him that she couldn’t give a rat’s ass if he ever
looked at her. Wanted her. Craved her.
But
damn if he was going to let some man frighten her.
He
strode over to his caterer and instructed him to go around and signal
that the party was over.
The
host was leaving and determined to break one of his own rules.
With
one of the staff.
Author Bio
An
author acclaimed for her eloquence and scintillating tales of romance
and suspense, Cerise DeLand writes historical and contemporary novels
with spice and charm. Visit http://www.cerisedeland.com
