Jennifer Labrecque - Better Than Chocolate...

Eve saw it in the intensity of his look. And she wanted to kiss him back. Badly. So when the elevator doors opened, Eve tugged him inside. Jack caught on quickly, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling the side of her neck as his erection nudged her thigh.

“Where do we go from here, Eve?” he asked, his breath hot on her skin.

“Wherever we want, Jack.”

Then, suddenly, desperately, as if a dam had been released, her hands were in his hair, their lips fused, their hips together. She strained closer, grinding her mouth against his, waging a war with her tongue. Somewhere along the way, this had changed from a sexy, flirtatious encounter into a moment of consuming need. Eve ached for him to fill her, to satisfy this craving.

“Jack, where’s a condom?” she said huskily, breaking the kiss.

He pulled a foil packet out of his wallet, and Eve quickly plucked it from his fingers, tearing the cellophane with her teeth.

“Unzip your pants. You promised me short and to the point.”

Jack took the condom from her and gave her a grin that stole her breath away. “Honey,” he said, shaking his head, “I offered brief. But never short.”

Dear Reader,

In times of stress, or even great joy, I often turn to comfort food. And unfortunately for me, that means chocolate. Sure, I like apples, carrots and celery sticks, but they don’t cut it when you need a pick-me-up. Give me Godiva any day of the week. And if I’m trying for semihealthy, I don’t mind if the manufacturers stick a piece of fruit or a nut in there, as long as they cover it with rich, dark chocolate.

Eve Carmichael—intelligent, strong, independent, driven—shares my weakness. According to Eve, nothing is better than chocolate. Of course, under the right circumstances, this opinion is subject to change. And Eve’s corporate rival Jack LaRoux is a tall, dark and dangerous one-man circumstance waiting to happen….

So sit back and enjoy watching Jack convince Eve that some things are, indeed, better than chocolate….

I’d love to hear from you. You can write me at P.O. Box 289, Hiram, GA 30141.

Enjoy,

Jennifer LaBrecque

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

886—BARELY MISTAKEN

904—BARELY DECENT

952—BARELY BEHAVING

HARLEQUIN DUETS

28—ANDREW IN EXCESS

52—KIDS+COPS=CHAOS

64—JINGLE BELL BRIDE?

Better Than Chocolate…

Jennifer LaBrecque

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Brenda Chin, for your seemingly infinite patience, keen eye and insight, and unfailing encouragement.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

“JACK LAROUX with his pants off. Now there’s an interesting thought. I’ve heard he’s yumm-o,” Andrea Scarpini declared from her end of the park bench.

“That’s definitely not what I meant when I said I’d beat the pants off LaRoux.” Eve Carmichael laughed, tilting her head back to soak up the early-spring sun filtering through Manhattan high-rises. Although, it was an interesting thought, and one she’d entertained fairly frequently. Eve was pretty sure it meant she needed a life outside of work. But she had no intention of sharing that tidbit with Andrea. “And I don’t care if he’s yumm-o or Quasimodo, I’ll beat him fair and square with sheer talent.”

“And what if our boy Jack doesn’t play fair? He didn’t earn the nickname Jack the Ripper by being a nice guy,” Andrea said.

Rumors had circulated about Jack LaRoux, Eve’s counterpart at Hendley and Wells Advertising San Francisco office in the six months he’d been onboard. Descriptions had included arrogant, extremely talented and ruthless. Oh yeah, and yumm-o. Nice, however, never entered the picture.

Eve quirked her brow at Andrea and opened her bottled water.

“Uh, nice doesn’t come into it, does it?” Andrea said. Arguably one of the best graphic artists in the city, Andrea abhorred the high-stakes competitive nature of Eve’s job. “I mean they don’t call you Eve the Avenger because you’re nice.”

Eve bit back a smile. No, they didn’t. She’d earned that nickname ostensibly because she never let anything get the best of her. No one crossed her unscathed. Besides, it had a nice cadence to it.

Meanwhile, Andrea was talking herself into another one of her infamous corners. “I mean, I think you’re nice because you’re my friend, but not everyone…” She trailed off, squirming on her end of the bench. “You know what I mean.”

Eve relented and laughed, tugging Andrea out of the corner she’d backed herself into. “I do know what you mean. It’s okay. Do you know what you call a nice account executive?” She took a long swallow of water.

“What?”

“Unemployed.”

Andrea wrinkled her nose. “Very funny.”

“Nah. Just sorta funny. But listen, it gets even better. I got an e-mail from Kirk Hendley this morning. Whoever wins the Bradley account gets the marketing vice presidency over both the New York and San Francisco offices.”

“So, your professional fate rests on farm equipment and lawn mowers?”

“Not terribly glamorous, is it? Lucky for me, I’ve got one of the best teams in the business working with me.” She grinned across the space at her friend and team graphic artist.

Andrea nodded at the compliment. “So, if Jack won he’d have to move to New York?”

“Yes. But Jack doesn’t need to worry about moving. I’m going to show him just what our New York office is made of.”

“It’s only fair to warn you there’s already a pool going in the art department whether you or LaRoux will get the job,” Andrea said.

Neither the pool nor the fact that a confidential memo she’d seen only three hours ago had already leaked surprised Eve. Office gossip was the local pastime at Hendley and Wells. “Who’s the favored winner?”

She took another swallow of water and closed her eyes briefly, reveling in the warmth of the sun on her face and the cool sweetness of the water sliding down her throat. She was only mildly interested in the art department’s predictions about who would win the vice presidency. She knew she would.

“The bets are running close to even,” Andrea said. Eve opened her eyes and leveled a stare. Andrea couldn’t lie worth anything. Flustered, Andrea caved. “Oh, what the heck. Okay, LaRoux’s favored two to one because he’s a man and Bill Bradley has a reputation for being a good old boy. And because, farm equipment is, well, man stuff.”

Eve threw back her head and laughed, earning a dirty look from the couple one bench over. “Man stuff? Jack LaRoux lives in San Francisco. Unless he’s some off-the-farm prodigy, he’s probably never been any closer to a tractor than I have. Consider this an insider tip. Put your money on me, ’cause I’m going to win.” Eve wanted that vice presidency so bad she could taste it. Correction. She didn’t want it, she needed it. Maybe that meant she needed to get a life, but it was the bottom line—this promotion meant everything to her. “I don’t expect Jack the Ripper to play nice. And if he wants to step outside of fair, I’m more than willing to take him on there as well.”