Anne Oliver - The Ex Factor

Seduced into her ex’s bed...

Melanie Sawyer’s intense affair with Luke Delaney was fuelled by an all-consuming desire. Both knew it couldn’t last—she was a waitress, he was the son of a millionaire. Feeling out of her depth, Mel ended it—but was left with an enduring reminder of Luke....

When Mel meets her ex again, he still has the X factor, and the red-hot passion between them reignites. As they spend time getting to know each other again—intimately—they realize the chemistry between them is too powerful to resist. But once Mel’s secret comes out, will Luke be able to trust her?

Luke closed the inches between them and laid his lips on Mel’s, igniting sparks, heat, the quick flare of lust, the slower burn of something remembered, something deeper.

A few stunned seconds passed, then her mouth went pliant beneath his. He felt the faint shiver run through her body and his own jerked in response. Oh, yeah, they still had it. That same recognition, that same magnetic attraction that had drawn him across the crowded function center the instant he’d laid eyes on her at his father’s cocktail party.

Then he felt her hand against his chest, heard the muffled sound in her throat. His primitive instincts howled in protest as he pulled back to search her eyes. Enough time to see the light of passion fade to that wariness again.

“I’m different now, Luke. We both are.”

“You never know—that might work for us. It was working fine a moment ago.”

For another moment she met his gaze, with an honest and open longing that echoed deep in his gut, then as if she’d flicked a switch her expression changed.

Unseen shadows prowled the space that had been humming with promise. She hugged her arms and turned away. “I don’t think so.”

When not teaching or writing, ANNE OLIVER loves nothing more than escaping into a book. She keeps a box of tissues handy—her favorite stories are intense, passionate, against-all-odds romances. Eight years ago, she began creating her own characters in paranormal and time-travel adventures, before turning to contemporary romance. Other interests include quilting, astronomy, all things Scottish and eating anything she doesn’t have to cook. Sharing her characters’ journeys with readers all over the world is a privilege…and a dream come true. Anne lives in Adelaide, South Australia, and has two adult children. Visit her website at www.anne-oliver.com. She loves to hear from readers. Email her at anne@anne-oliver.com.

Other titles by Anne Oliver available in ebook format:

Harlequin Presents® Extra

184—THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT A REBEL...

160—HER NOT-SO-SECRET DIARY

139—WHEN HE WAS BAD…

The Ex Factor

Anne Oliver

www.millsandboon.co.uk

When I was writing One Night Before Marriage, Melanie began demanding her own story. So here it is.

This book is dedicated to my children, Matthew and Rachel, who told me to

“get a life” when they saw me spending my weekends at the computer.

Thanks, guys, for putting up with me all those early years. I love you both.

Thanks to Trish Morey

for her encouragement when things got sticky, and especially to Meg Sleightholme

for her invaluable advice.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

THE man in her bed had a body built for giving pleasure, chiselled and polished to sinful perfection.

Melanie Sawyer hadn’t sinned, perfect or otherwise, in far too long.

So she absorbed the gilded sheen of his skin in the early morning light, traced the wide plane of his back and the long furrow of his spine with hungry eyes. And down, to where the curve of a taut backside disappeared beneath her fluffy pink and tangerine throwover.

It wasn’t only her eyes that were hungry. Her lips tingled and her fingers itched to explore the textures of skin and hair. That neat little earlobe, the sharp wedge of shoulder blade. But she only watched, entranced, not moving in case she woke him and spoiled the moment.

He murmured something in his sleep and rubbed his cheek against her pillow, the rasp of stubble sharp against crisp cotton. Her breath caught at the intimacy of his naked flesh sliding over her linen. He faced away from her so she couldn’t see his features, but his dark hair was thick and tousled and utterly touchable.

A shame he wasn’t awake.

A shame she wasn’t in bed with him.

Adam’s guy friends had slept over before. But not this particular one. And not in her bed.

With her gaze glued to the delicious sight, she unwound her scarf and set it on her suitcase beside her. Undid the top button of her suddenly too-tight sweater. Was the rest of him naked under that sheet? God, she hoped so. The thought made her blood pump faster, thicker, warming places that hadn’t been warmed in a while. A long while. It had been five years since she’d had the pleasure of up close and horizontal.

She was a nurse, she’d seen more than her fair share of naked men, but the fact that this one was snuggled up with her pillow like temptation personified…well, her expectations were high.

Who was this guy anyway?

She glanced over her shoulder at the living-room destruction for any sign of a wallet or ID. Nope. Just a pile of action DVDs amongst greasy take-away containers and beer bottles—the drawback to having a male flatmate, she supposed, although, to be fair to Adam, she had come home from the conference a day earlier than expected.

A low rough-throated rumble from across the room rolled through her senses, drawing her attention back to her bed and its current occupant. With unapologetic interest—and, yeah, anticipation—she leaned against the doorjamb and watched him come to. Watched the sinewy forearms twist as his long fingers bunched and flexed around her pillow. Then he stretched, a lethargic shift and tensing of bone and muscle and golden skin, and rolled onto his back.

Everything inside her froze and fractured.

Luke Delaney.

No! Luke was an engineering geologist in Central Australia somewhere, not here in Sydney.

She saw the same shock register in his too-familiar mocha eyes as they locked gazes and she struggled to draw air. His lazy leonine posture vanished as he pushed up to a sitting position and ran a hand over his eyes as if he, too, was having trouble processing the information.

In that instant subtle changes snapped through her stunned brain. His body had grown firmer and more muscled over the past five years. His hair was shorter. The lines fanning out from his eyes were deeper. But his gorgeous mouth was the same. Full with a tiny upward tilt at one corner, as if he were about to smile.

But he didn’t smile. He swore—a soft short word beneath his breath before he said, ‘Melanie.’

His voice reverberated through her bones, deeper, richer than she remembered—and she remembered very well. His velvet whispers in her ear, against her throat, on her breast. The way he murmured her name as he slid inside her.

He scrubbed at his face, then began shifting to the edge of the bed. ‘When Adam said “Melanie”… Hell. I’m sorry. I should’ve grabbed the couch, but Adam said—’

‘Stop!’ She threw up a hand, hating the desperation she heard in her voice. Was he naked under there? God, she hoped not.

Once she’d have torn back the sheet herself and gloried in his hot, hard masculinity. Her horrified gaze shot back to his face. A more weathered face, but no less handsome. His complexion was a darker sun-stroked colour, but she felt none of that warm familiarity as he studied her through dark, impassive eyes.