“Don’t tell me you’ve never been on a roller coaster.”
Devon couldn’t imagine someone depriving themselves of the experience.
Jenny shook her head. “Never.”
He’d gladly share his take on the ride. This was one woman he planned to convert. He leaned forward. Closer. Firmly into her personal space.
“It’s an adrenaline rush.” The kind he sought out whenever possible. “A slow build that climbs with anticipation until you can barely hold still for what’s going to happen next. Then a heart-flipping moment where you feel like you’re going to fall over the biggest ledge of your life and your whole nervous system goes ballistic with erratic impulses. You can’t breathe. You can only scream and hold on for dear life.”
Unable to resist the lure of her hazel eyes hanging on his every word, he reached out to stroke a finger down her soft cheek.
In a breathless voice she said, “Sort of like sex.”
Dear Reader,
THE WRONG BED is a favorite ongoing miniseries from long before I started writing romance. I loved reading books with this fun and sexy premise and was thrilled when my first attempt to write my own proved to be a bestselling Harlequin Temptation novel. Now that the miniseries has moved to Harlequin Blaze, the creative options for this steamy miniseries have multiplied and it is with great pleasure that I bring you my first WRONG BED Blaze novel.
When Jenny Moore sends an e-mail containing a distinct proposition for sex to the wrong man’s inbox, she finds herself undressed with a captivating stranger. A good girl would probably clear up the misunderstanding and call it a night, but Jenny has played it safe for far too long. Besides, she soon discovers she’s not the only one in the mood for bedroom games.
All the fun, twice the sizzle…welcome to THE WRONG BED in Harlequin Blaze!
Happy reading,
Joanne Rock
www.millsandboon.co.uk
For Heather Beaufait, Amelia Hernandez and all the readers on my BlazingFans loop who encourage and support me. Thank you so much for your willingness to always talk about romance, to answer spur-of-the-moment crazy questions that help me with my works-in-progress, and for being a part of my life!
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
Chapter 15
“I DON’T THINK we should see each other anymore.”
Jenny Moore blinked through her first date nervousness to stare at the heartbreak hero who’d made the unexpected pronouncement. The clank of bar glasses and buzz of a hundred conversations faded in the face of her abject mortification in a back booth of an Atlantic City nightspot. Surely she’d misunderstood him.
“Our drinks haven’t even made it to the table yet and you’re breaking up with me?” Jenny knew she wasn’t every man’s fantasy date, but she’d done everything right with this executive of a Jersey engineering firm she’d met online a few weeks ago. She’d gotten to know him through an Internet dating service first. Exchanged e-mails through the private addresses supplied by the company. Tonight she’d been careful to play it cool with him even though she battled a few personal phobias about being out in public. Meeting David Brady in person was half the reason she’d come to the conference in Atlantic City—a city she’d never liked in the first place, even if she didn’t suffer from mild agoraphobia that made it tough to leave her apartment under any normal circumstances.
Today was fast becoming far from normal.
“I’m sorry, Jen, but I just don’t think I can take things as slow as you’d like me to.” He gave her a lopsided grin that might have been endearing if she hadn’t wanted to box his ears for not giving her a chance to jump his bones—loser or not. “I just think we need to be open and honest with each other about our expectations, don’t you?”
In an e-mail, she could have handled that question. She’d built up a million-dollar empire selling luxury goods online through De-Luxe, her successful brainchild run from the isolated safety of her home office. But now, face-to-face with a man in a situation that made her nervous to begin with, she was more likely to break out in hives than form an intelligent response.
“H-honesty?” Her breath caught in her throat while she tried to ward off a bout of hyperventilation sure to come if this man—a man who’d finally seemed like her chance for intimacy—truly dumped her in the retro lobby bar of Quintessence Hotel and Casino ten minutes after their first live meet.
She’d never been a fan of dating, but this encounter was off the charts in the hideous department.
“It’s not that I don’t like you. I’ve had a great time e-mailing with you the past few weeks.” The object of her online affection rose from the table and snagged a pen off the nearby bar, dodging the flirtatious waitress who brought Jenny’s drink—a pink halo—and his double shot of scotch. He passed the server a twenty with a wink and proceeded to scribble on a turquoise-colored cocktail napkin with his pilfered pen, a fat ruby winking on what looked like a university ring around his finger. “I closed my e-mail account with the dating service, but feel free to contact me at this address if De-Luxe ever gets in those platinum nameplates we talked about. Gotta be the first in town to have one for my desk.”
With a quick kiss to her cheek, David grabbed his drink and sailed out of the bar, taking his khaki-clad cute butt and her only opportunity to score this weekend—maybe this whole flipping year—along with him.
Damn it.
Jenny couldn’t even look at the fizzy pink halo she’d ordered when she first sat down. Her drink order had been an optimistic choice. How much more upbeat could you get than pink and fizzy? David’s retreat had put her in more of a Bloody Mary mood.
“Can I get you anything else?” The busty waitress with long, dark hair peered down at Jenny’s untouched cocktail once she finally yanked her gaze off of Jenny’s departing date.
Thank God the server was a woman, even if the dishy chick had flirted outrageously with David when she’d taken their order. In general, Jenny did better face-to-face with strange women. Strange men were normally more intimidating. But between the online photo of David and their exchanged e-mails, she’d actually thought she had a chance of making it through a dinner with him. Possibly more.
“My friend’s a doctor and he just got called away,” Jenny lied in a face-saving effort, embarrassed to her toes to have a bar server feeling sorry for her. “I guess I’ll just head back to my room.”
Scooping up the napkin with David’s e-mail address, Jenny rose from the table and headed for the elevator, her silky skirt that felt so sexy against her legs an hour ago now reminding her with each swish what a failure the night had been. She would not let herself contact a man who wasn’t even patient enough to sit through drinks with her, so she didn’t know why she clutched the stupid napkin in a death grip.
“Loser.” Punching the elevator button, she told herself she would simply enjoy the conference from a self-help guru who’d written a series of books on nurturing mental help through alternative therapies that she was attending this week. She’d even been chosen to participate in a special forum with a research group compiling data on agoraphobics, so she could help along other people with issues similar to hers.
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