The Case For Temptation. Robyn Grady

       One

      As the private elevator continued its climb to the hotel’s presidential suite, Jacob Stone couldn’t help but admire the woman standing beside him. Forget the wow factor of endless waves of silken blond hair. Her beaded off-the-shoulder number must have cost a small fortune, and on that body, it was worth every damn cent.

      No one was breaking the law but, if put on the stand, Jacob would have to admit—there was way more than just looking on his mind.

      Finally, she glanced across at him. “You know you’re staring, right?”

      “This’ll sound crazy...” Lame even, but he’d put it out there. “This is a first for me.”

      “If you’re saying you’ve never had anyone back for a drink before tonight,” she laughed, “sorry. I’m not buying.”

      Jacob’s teeth skimmed his lower lip as he propped a jacketed shoulder against the mirrored wall of the elevator and crossed his arms. This wasn’t about a nightcap after the party. He’d be more specific.

      “We’ve known each other three hours. Four max.”

      As her gaze eased away from his to the opening doors, one eyebrow hiked up. “Chickening out?”

      His turn to laugh.

       Not on your life.

      Six weeks ago, Jacob had received a wedding invitation from an old friend, a lawyer who’d recently relocated to the West Coast. Marcus Lane had found The One and bought a ring. So Jacob had booked a first-class ticket from New York to LAX and attended today’s extravagant garden wedding. After the ceremony, which ended with the traditional release of doves, he followed the trail of pinging crystal flutes to a ballroom more elaborate than any set from a Hollywood blockbuster. Impressive, and he was happy for Marcus and his bride.

      But Jacob had been thinking more about the multimillion-dollar lawsuit waiting back home than being in the moment. Then this woman had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and his mind-set had done a one-eighty.

      When she had stopped at his table, Jacob wasted no time getting to his feet and pulling out her chair. As wine was poured and introductions exchanged, he’d been struck by her eyes—the most sensuous, slumberous green he’d ever seen. He apologized when she’d needed to repeat herself.

      Her first name was Teagan. He hadn’t caught the last bit.

      They’d been so busy talking that he couldn’t recall what they’d eaten or who had said what in a run of formal wedding speeches. And that juicy case back in New York? All but forgotten. After the bridal waltz, when the atmosphere dipped into low misty light and hold me close music, he’d taken Teagan’s hand and led her to the dance floor. Resting his cheek against her sweet-smelling hair—one hand holding hers, the other caressing the warm lower scoop of her back—he’d felt as if they were alone, or sure as hell ought to be.

      Jacob never made assumptions, but with his senses homed on her body brushing his and her lips near enough to taste, he’d already decided how this evening would end. When he suggested a nightcap, she’d slid her palm down his lapel and curled two fingers into the fabric. Her exact words had been, “Let’s do it.”

      And yet now, out of the elevator and opening the door to his suite, Jacob saw Teagan hesitate, which, of course, made him hesitate, too.

      Earlier conversation had revolved around general interests, politics, business. She was into health and fitness, and owned a business in Seattle called High Tea Gym. He’d opened up about the law practice he’d inherited, but hadn’t elaborated on his reputation, which was cutthroat. Where litigation against the big guns was concerned, Crush or Be Crushed was the only motto to live by.

      When they’d discussed friends, he’d shared a couple of tales about Griff and Ajax Rawson, two of his best friends whom he counted as family and vice versa. He had avoided the subject of blood relations and found it interesting that Teagan had done the same. Not a word.

      Now listening to the beads of her gown rustling as she moved into the spacious, lavishly appointed room, Jacob had to wonder. Everything about her announced poise and class, but there were plenty of ordinary folk who had learned to master the nuances of the privileged, himself included. So was it possible that Teagan’s background was similar to his own? Vastly different from all this glitz and best filed away?

      Best forgotten?

      As she turned, and then smiled again...hell, what did it matter? Closing the distance separating them with a few easy strides, Jacob set questions and doubts aside. What counted now was finally claiming that first kiss. Everything else—including that defamation case against Hunter Publications—would have to wait.