Trinity Falls. Regina Hart
Megan reached forward and grabbed the waistband of Ean’s black gym pants. Ean came up short. The surprise stamped on his copper features was comical. Megan laughed as she sprinted past him.
She tapped the sycamore tree in front of her home and threw her arms above her head. “I won!”
Ean slowed to a stop beside her. “You cheated.”
Megan was breathless from exertion and giddy with victory. “That wasn’t cheating. It was strategy.”
Ean’s eyes dipped to her mouth. “It was cheating.”
His voice was a low, wicked rumble. Megan sobered. Ean’s head drew closer. His scent—sweat and musk—clouded her thoughts. The burgeoning heat in his eyes rendered her motionless. This moment was her young girl’s fantasy, but his nearness stirred every inch of her woman’s body. All she knew was his heat, his touch, his eyes. And all she wanted was his taste.
Also by Regina Hart
The Brooklyn Monarchs Trilogy
Kensington Publishing Corp.
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
TRINITY FALLS Also by Title Page Dedication ACKNOWLEDGMENT 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 CHAPTER 16 CHAPTER 17 CHAPTER 18 CHAPTER 19 CHAPTER 20 CHAPTER 21 CHAPTER 22 CHAPTER 23 CHAPTER 24 CHAPTER 25 CHAPTER 26 CHAPTER 27 CHAPTER 28 CHAPTER 29 CHAPTER 30 CHAPTER 31 CHAPTER 32 CHAPTER 33 CHAPTER 34 CHAPTER 35 CHAPTER 36 CHAPTER 37 Trinity Falls Fudge Walnut Brownies Don’t miss the next novel in the Finding Home series, Copyright Page
To my dream team:
• My sister, Bernadette, for giving me the dream
• My husband, Michael, for supporting the dream
• My brother, Richard, for believing in the dream
• My brother, Gideon, for encouraging the dream
• My friend and critique partner, Marcia James, for sharing the dream
And to Mom and Dad, always with love
Thank you to Dr. Martin Brick, Assistant Professor of English with Ohio Dominican University, for providing insight into the university faculty search process.
“I can’t do this.” Ean Fever closed the client folder. He leaned forward and laid it on Hugh Bolden’s imposing teakwood desk. Hugh was his boss and one of the principal partners with the New York law firm of Craven, Bolden & Arnez.
“Why not?” From the other side of the desk, Hugh’s laser blue eyes took aim at Ean’s face. His frown deepened the fine wrinkles between his thick gray brows. “It’s like all the other corporate litigation cases you’ve worked.”
“I can’t represent this client.” Ean steeled himself for his boss’s reaction.
“‘Can’t’ or ‘won’t’?” Hugh seemed more curious than confrontational.
The walls were closing in on him. Ean freed his gaze from the older man’s steely regard to take in the spacious office. It smelled like power and prestige. Thick silver carpeting complemented the teakwood furnishings—conversation table with four white-cushioned chairs, executive desk, cabinetries and bookcases. The entertainment center, including the high-definition television, was black lacquer. The picture window behind Hugh framed several Manhattan skyscrapers as they pierced the hot August sky.
Commendations and civic awards decorated the walls and shelves. But the partner’s office didn’t give any insight into the man: his loved ones, his hobbies, his beverages of choice.