Jule Mcbride - Night Pleasures

“You’re very direct,” she said in a near whisper.

“Looking at you makes me feel I don’t have time to lose.” Edison shrugged. “Besides, I know what I want.”

“And you take the quickest route to get it?” she asked breathlessly.

His voice was suddenly silky. “No woman trying to stay out of a man’s bed wears a dress like that.” He eyed the filmy creation, and savored a fantasy about how he’d circle a taut nipple with his tongue until she writhed from the pleasure. There were many things he had in mind for Selena. Oh, yes… He could be as imaginative as her erotic diary.

“You’re very sure of your ability to get a woman into bed.”

He grinned. “It’s what happens after she’s in bed that interests me.” He lightly traced her bare shoulder with one finger. “Of course, if you need to talk first, we certainly can. Some women call it foreplay.”

Selena’s lips twitched with a smile. “How obliging.”

He tugged her closer. “I can be much more obliging than that….”

Dear Reader,

First, I want to thank you for taking Night Pleasures off the bookshelf! Just like you, I love to be entertained by a strong, sexy man who spices my fantasies, something that’s naturally led me to want to try my hand at Temptation’s sexiest books, the HEAT miniseries.

In this story, code-cracker Edison Lone solves word puzzles, and he loves discovering and fulfilling a woman’s secret passions. When he’s asked to crack the code of a steamy, erotic diary, how could he and his fantasizing lady love share anything but pleasure at night?

Needless to say, I truly hope you’ll laugh, cry and be breathless with suspense—all in anticipation of that final wonderful moment when you just know these two people are perfect for each other!

Enjoy!

Jule McBride

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

830—A WAY WITH WOMEN

Night Pleasures

Jule McBride

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilogue

“WE’VE REACHED A CRISIS point,” she said, pretending to nibble a sandwich, her lips barely moving. “We’ve got to get rid of Edison Lone. Now.”

He sat beside her on a park bench, wearing one of his many finely tailored suits, the uniform of what he was—a major power broker in the most power-hungry city in America. As her low, husky voice rippled through him, he decided that some men would be threatened by her raw sensuality, others by her intelligence, and still others by the power the woman wielded in Washington; he was simply aroused. He was her lover, and each word affected him like a slow-drip aphrodisiac feeding straight into his veins. Slowly, he turned a page of the classified ads in this morning’s free tabloid. “Any suggestions about how to rid ourselves of Lone?”

“Oh,” she purred. “I’ve got a few.”

“Care to share them?”

“Only if you’re good.”

A mental vision of how she’d looked last night, stepping naked from the octagonal swimming pool in her estate in Arlington, made it difficult to hide his surging arousal. “Last night I was good, wasn’t I?”

“Or bad, depending on which way you look at it.”

“I looked at it from every angle.”

“You mean you looked at me from every angle?” she murmured.

“That, too. And I didn’t see any part of you complaining.”

Her trace of a smile vanished. “No, but we’ll both be complaining if Edison Lone gets any closer to finding out what we’re up to.”

Actually, they’d be tried for treason. Glancing from the tabloid, he stared past a fountain toward Pennsylvania Avenue. “Speaking of breaches in security, are you sure you weren’t followed?” While they interacted in business contexts, they’d never been seen together socially.

“Of course I wasn’t. But we had to meet. Phone lines are never secure. And we’ve got to get Edison Lone out of the picture.”

“Permanently?”

She considered. “No…at least not yet. That would look suspicious.”

“Later?”

“Later, if we have to, we’ll make…arrangements.”

“Permanent arrangements?” he echoed, his neck prickling with a sudden chill. “You think the man’s that dangerous to us?”

“He could figure out what we’re doing. He’s the best code cracker in Washington.”

Edison Lone had also been a child prodigy, an early Harvard graduate, and was a Mensa member. He was more patriotic than George Washington, too. “Rumor has it he’d send his own children to the electric chair if he thought they were messing over Uncle Sam.”

“Not his children. He doesn’t have any. Nor ex-wives. He’s a confirmed bachelor,” she told him.

“Maybe we’ve found his Achilles’ heel. With any luck he’s secretly gay. We could use that against him, couldn’t we?”

“Edison Lone? Gay?” She nearly choked. “The man possesses so much testosterone he’s probably taking supplements.”

“I said secretly.”

“Everybody knows he likes women.”

The words rankled. “You know that?”

“I’m just offering common knowledge about the man.”

He sighed heavily, well acquainted with Edison Lone’s considerably thick dossier. Six foot one, thirty-five years old and blessed with jet-black hair and blue eyes, Lone had once upon a time been a foster child who’d exhibited such unusual aptitude in school that he’d wound up getting a first-rate education privately subsidized by benefactors. Off the record, Edison Lone was reputed to be one of those enviably rare, lucky men who drew women to him like an MRI magnet.

The man sighed again. He’d really hoped Edison Lone might be gay. But even he’d heard the female gossip around Washington about Lone being a wizard under the bedsheets.

Her husky voice broke into his reverie. “He’s convinced someone’s using the classified ads to make contacts and sell information from IBI, so he could find out it’s us. This morning, he said he might take his suspicions to CIIC.”

“If CIIC investigates, we’re toast. Did you try to talk him out of it?”

She nodded affirmatively.

They’d probably talked alone, he thought, in one of those high-tech conference rooms laid out with imported coffee and a fancy silver service. In addition to the stab of jealousy and the threat of being exposed as a traitor by Edison Lone, he decided the mind-boggling acronyms in Washington were enough to make a man’s head hurt. IBI were the initials for the Internal Bureau of Information, the organization that employed Edison Lone. CIIC, the Center for International Informational Control, was the watchdog organization that kept its eye on IBI.

“We’d better do something soon,” she said. “Otherwise he’ll realize we’re selling information from IBI’s database.”