Alyssa Morgan - Dark Surrender

Currently, Jillian had more important things on her mind than checking out guys or guessing whether they were the type to wear boxers or briefs. She was still busy trying to understand why her grandparents had left their only grandchild out of their Will.

Almost two months had passed since they’d been killed in a car accident, and she just couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that they’d left everything they owned—including the museum—to none other than Jonathon Crawford. She didn’t trust the dreadful man, and couldn’t believe her often sensible grandparents had fallen for his phony act.

Their previous museum Director, a man working for them for over thirty years, died of a sudden heart attack and the very next day Jonathon Crawford appeared out of nowhere, dressed in a flawless designer suit and enquiring about a job. Turns out not only did he happen to have all the right credentials and experience to fill the vacancy, he was nice and helpful as well.

Once he won over her grandparents and started taking over at the museum, Jillian got pushed to the back burner, and now Jonathon owned everything that should belong to her.

But she wasn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet. There was something unsettling and suspicious about Jonathon, and she intended to find out what.

“Are you looking?” Denise asked, her Jersey accent coming through.

“Looking at what ?” Jillian feigned ignorance.

She didn’t want to get pulled into ogling some guy Denise thought she should simply walk up to and ask out on a date.

Jillian wasn’t that desperate.

Or that brave.

In college she and Denise had shared the same zest for life, nothing fazed them, they hadn’t been afraid to take chances, but somewhere along the way Jillian felt like she’d fallen behind while Denise was still going strong.

When had she become so afraid of life?

Where had she gotten lost?

In that moment, she realized how different the two of them had become. Jillian sat at the table in a gray pencil skirt and a conservative white blouse, her long blonde hair neatly pulled back into a chignon, hands folded in her lap. Across from her, Denise wore a short, black chiffon skirt and a lacy red tank top under her black leather jacket. With her high-heeled ankle boots, she looked ready to ride off into the sunset on the back of a Harley. Her shiny brown hair hung straight and long around her shoulders and she had perfectly manicured nails, painted red this week, and her toes were probably done in the same shade to match.

To outsiders the two appeared nothing alike, but on the inside they were kindred spirits, and Jillian knew they would always be friends. To the end.

Denise was the only family she had left.

Jillian pushed her empty salad container to the side of the table, then arranged the salt and pepper shakers at a perfect angle to the square sugar bowl. When she routinely started turning the sugar packets so all the labels were facing the same way, Denise swatted her on the arm.

“You’re missing it, Jilly,” she said, the excitement clear in her voice. “There’s got to be at least one man in New York you’ll go on more than one date with, and I think I’ve found him.”

Jillian was curious to see the man if he had Denise all worked up. She did have exceptional taste in men. Her current boyfriend was the stuff of dreams. A tall, hunky fireman named Nick.

Jillian gave a casual glance over her shoulder at the café entrance, and then she craned her head even further and gaped, her mouth open. She’d never seen a more handsome man. He was riveting, and she couldn’t help but stare.

“Got your attention now?” Denise laughed. “He looks like your usual stodgy, upper-class type, but he’s young. No doubt that one comes from Old Money.”

Jillian shook her head, unable to form any coherent thought. There was nothing stodgy about the man. Everything he emanated was purely raw and masculine, sexual.

“His suit is nice, classic,” Denise commented, approving his wardrobe. “Looks like Gucci. The choice suggests excellent taste.”

Denise would know. During college she’d interned at a fashion magazine and spent an entire summer studying fashion in Milan.

Jillian didn’t have to know Gucci in order to admire the way his elegant gray suit fit such a tall frame and wide shoulders. The collar of his crisp white shirt had been left open with the top few buttons undone, revealing some of the smooth, golden skin of his broad chest. He wore the tawny, blonde locks of his shoulder-length hair neatly pulled back at his nape. His stance was casual, with his hands tucked into his pants pockets, but no one could mistake the aura of power and ageless strength he possessed.

A sudden rush of heat surged through her veins as wicked images of strong arms drawing her up against a rock-hard chest formed in her mind. She curled her fingers as she imagined the solid feel of rippling muscle flexing beneath her fingertips. Licking her lips, she could almost taste the salt of flesh on her tongue.

“Bingo!” Denise sucked loudly on her straw as she finished her diet soda. “Your lady parts are going soft, admit it. He’s beautiful.”

Jillian felt alive in a way she had never before experienced. There was a tingling in the pit of her stomach and a longing ache deep within her that only intensified as her eyes landed back on his sharp, handsome face.

“More than beautiful,” Jillian said, breathless, as she rested her arm across the back of her chair. “He’s perfect.”

“Then it’s settled.” Denise plopped her purse in her lap and pulled out a sparkly red tube of lip gloss, which she handed to Jillian. “Go ask for his name, and then ask him if he’d like to take you out to dinner.”

Anxiety seized her, shutting down the warm tingle of desire. Even if she could work up the courage to ask a man for a date, she didn’t think she could make herself get out of the chair and walk across the room.

“You can do it,” Denise encouraged, waving her hand. “Don’t let one bad choice ruin you forever. Be glad you didn’t marry the jerk, and get back at him by being blissfully happy and dating a guy like that .”

God bless Denise. She’d made it her personal mission to pull Jillian out of the rut she’d been stuck in for the last three years, no matter how much she kicked and screamed. After her ex-fiancé turned psycho on her she’d called off the wedding and moved in with her only family, her grandparents. To this day the jerk still stalked her, harassing her for having the guts to leave. How could she bring a new man into her life when it was such a terrible mess? What would he think?

“I can’t ask a guy like that out.”

“A guy like that is just what you need.” Denise set the tube of lip gloss on the table, then smoothed her hands through her long, dark brown hair. “I’m working very hard to get you laid, and it has to be with the right guy. That ,” she pointed to the man, “is the right guy.”

Jillian looked over at the man again and found him staring right back at her, his steely blue eyes piercing through her like lasers. She was caught, held in his captivating stare, unable to look away, and it made her feel exposed, like he could see her innermost desires, her deepest secrets.

“A man built that well has to be good in bed,” Denise remarked offhand. “He just has to.”

The man’s brow quirked up, his blue eyes lighting with interest.

Could he hear them across the café? Over the loud din of voices as the other customers talked and laughed?

The start of a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. Jillian’s entire body smoldered from that subtle look. She imagined his full lips on hers, kissing her, wrapping her up in his strong arms.