Wicked & Willing. Leslie Kelly
He doubted this woman blushed very often and he found the heightened color in her face extremely attractive.
He let her sweat for a moment. Then, unable to lie to her any more than he could to himself, he said, “But I would have.”
Her answer was equally as honest. “Five minutes ago the answer probably would have been yes.”
“And now?”
“Now it’s got to be no.”
“Why?”
She merely shook her head, unable or unwilling to answer. Troy, however, wasn’t one to give up without a fight. “Can you give me one chance to change your mind?”
She eyed him warily but didn’t refuse. Letting her see his small confident smile, he leaned closer, catching her exotic scent. Then closer, until he saw the pulse beating wildly in her neck. And closer still, until their lips were a breath apart.
“You think you can change my mind with a kiss?” she whispered.
He responded with a slow nod and a lazy drawl. “Yes.”
She visibly stiffened at the certainty in his tone.
“You think I can’t?”
She responded to his challenge with a raised eyebrow and a taunting look. “You can try.”
He did, slipping his fingers into her hair, tangling his hands in that thick mass of living fire. He touched his lips to hers, gently at first, tasting her, savoring the softness of her mouth. Only when she moaned low in her throat did he go farther, sliding his tongue between his lips, letting it mate lazily with hers in a hot, intoxicating dance that sent intense sensations rushing through his body.
She tasted sweet and ripe, like summer fruit. But warm, like fine whiskey. She moaned again and tilted her head, kissing him back just as deliberately, just as invitingly.
He tugged her closer, until, somehow, she was sitting on his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, his around her jean-clad hips. He skimmed his fingers beneath her cotton top. Lightly touching the bare flesh at her waist, he heard her sigh against his kiss as skin met skin.
Finally, he moved his mouth from hers, kissing the corner of her lips, then her cheek. Her jaw. Her neck.
“Changed your mind yet?” he growled against her throat.
“Uh-huh,” she whispered.
“Good. Tell me what time we can get together tomorrow night.” He scraped his teeth along her collarbone, feeling the way she jerked against him in response. “If you’re sure tonight’s out, that is.”
She groaned in frustration. “It’s definitely out.”
Before he could attempt to cajole her, she pulled back. “I think I hear voices.”
She was up, off his lap, standing at the rail so fast, he thought he’d imagined their heated kiss.
“Are you sure? I don’t hear anything,” he said, wanting her back in his arms. Immediately, if not sooner. He stood and joined her at the railing.
Before she could answer, a sliding glass door opened behind them. Max stepped out, followed by his nephew, Leo. Max looked tense, appearing very much the seventy-four-year-old man he was. Leo, on the other hand, looked positively euphoric.
Max glanced briefly at Troy, dismissed him, then focused on Venus. “Is this true?”
She stood up straighter. Beside her, Troy could easily see the way her hands trembled, until she clenched them together in front of her. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak.
“Is what true?” Troy asked.
“Of course it is,” Leo said.
Max ignored them both and stepped closer to Venus. “Is it possible? Is it really you…Violet?”
Confused, Troy said, “Her name’s…”
“Yes, I told you, I’m certain it’s true,” Leo interjected, stepping between Troy and Max. He took Venus’s hand and pulled her forward, looking as happy as a kid with a surprise cereal box toy. “Uncle Max, meet your long-lost granddaughter.”
3
OF COURSE? CERTAIN? TRUE?
Venus wanted to strangle Leo Gallagher. So much for his assurances that this would just be a “visit” to see if it was “possible” she could be the person he claimed she was. He’d obviously presented it to the old man as a done deal.
Well, it wasn’t a done deal, not in her book. Five grand or no five grand, she’d never agreed to outright lie.
“Actually, my name’s Venus,” she said, hearing an edge in her own voice. She shot Leo an angry look before turning her full attention to Max Longotti. “Venus Messina.”
The old man, with a thick head of brilliant white hair and piercing gray eyes, met her unflinching stare. “Messina. I see. How old are you, Ms. Messina?”
“That’s a nice way to start a conversation with a woman,” she tossed off, still annoyed at being manipulated. “You gonna ask me my bra size next?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Leo wince, then draw his brow into a frown. He’d warned her to be discreet.
Not a good start. Especially since if it weren’t for her really keen sense of hearing, she would have been caught making out with the hired help three minutes ago.
“I’m not so old that I can’t make a fair guess at that,” the old gentleman said, his tone droll and amused.
Venus chuckled. Score one for Grandpa.
Beside Leo, Troy watched silently. He leaned casually against the balcony railing, arms crossed in front of his chest, absorbing every word they said. The bright sunlight cast bits of gold on his dark brown hair, and she was again struck by the sheer handsomeness of the man. Amazing to look at, and hands down the best kisser she’d ever known. Her lips and tongue still tingled.
As if he read her thoughts, he met her eye and smiled slightly. We have a secret, don’t we? his smile seemed to say.
She wondered what he must think of this whole thing. It seemed like science fiction even to her.
“Now,” Max Longotti continued softly, “will you please tell me exactly when you were born, young lady?”
She rattled off her birth date, hating to admit being almost thirty in front of Troy. Not that it mattered, she reminded herself. Before that unreal kiss, she’d decided he was off-limits. And after it, well, he’d still be off-limits…after she got at least one more kiss from the man…or two…or…
Max nodded. “And you say your father was actually my son?”
“I didn’t say jack,” she retorted, dragging her attention away from the hottie with the intense look on his face. “Since I never laid eyes on my father, he coulda been Jimmy Hoffa for all I know.” She gestured toward Leo. “But your nephew here seems to think it’s possible.”
Leo’s subsequent frown would have scared small children.
“Maybe I should excuse myself,” Troy finally said. “This appears to be a family matter.”
“Yes,” Leo began.
“No,” Max Longotti insisted. “An outsider’s viewpoint might be useful here.” He turned back to Venus. “I know what my nephew thinks. I want to know what you think, Ms. Messina.”
Sensing her answer was very important to the man, who suddenly appeared a little less strong and sure than he had at first, she admitted, “I suppose it’s possible. Stranger things have happened. I mean, who’d have ever thought fat-free potato chips would actually not taste like cardboard?”
She saw Troy’s