Lie With Me / Destiny's Hand: Lie With Me. Lori Wilde

      Cara summers’s Lie with Me is her thirtieth story. Cara’s books have won several awards, including two Golden Leaf Awards, the Award of Excellence and a Golden Quill. Cara loves writing for the Blaze^® line because it allows her to tell such a variety of stories – from Extremes and Gothic romances to an exciting adventure on the magical Greek island of Corfu. When Cara isn’t involved with her characters, she teaches in the Writing Programme at Syracuse University. For more information about her, visit her website – www. carasummers.com.

      To Janet Ridgeway, my fellow instructor in

       the Writing Programme at Syracuse University and a

       true pet psychic. Thanks, Janet, for patiently putting up

       with and answering all my questions. you’re the best!

      Prologue

      SECOND THOUGHTS ambushed me, stopping me short just as I reached the door to Roman Oliver’s hospital room.

      It was a hell of a time to be having them, but the momentum that had fueled me to race to Saint Jude’s Trauma Center at the crack of dawn was threatening to drain away with the speed of air leaving a pricked balloon.

      I needed that momentum if I was going to convince Roman to make love with me.

      Get a grip, Philly. You’ve made your decision, and once you do that, you never backslide.

      That was certainly true when it came to business. Since I’d graduated from college last year I’d already implemented steps in my plan to open my pet psychic business. In addition to working part-time as a hostess in my family’s restaurant, I also assisted a vet at a local animal hospital, and I’d created my own Web site. But my plan with regard to Roman Oliver was not only more immediate, it was dependent on whether or not he agreed to it.

      Stop dithering. Angelis women know what they want and how to get it. And you want Roman Oliver.

      Through the narrow pane of glass in the door, I could see him sitting in the chair next to his bed gazing out the window. Just looking at Roman was enough to make every molecule in my body yearn.

      Why did I want him? Let me count the ways. The man was incredibly attractive—if you went for a lean, rawboned face, tousled dark hair, a full, firm mouth and the kind of hard-muscled body that ancient sculptors had captured over and over again in bronze and marble.

      And it wasn’t just his looks that attracted me. There was a quiet sense of determination and purpose about him that pulled at me, too.

      Something fluttered right beneath my heart. Roman Oliver, current CEO of Oliver Enterprises and my brother Kit’s best friend since their freshman year in college, had been causing that “heart flutter” response in me ever since I was sixteen and he’d saved my life while we were sailing. That’s when I’d developed my first big crush on him. It had been a classic case of fantasy love, existing totally in my mind and completely one-sided. After all, I was sixteen and he was an older man of twenty-two.

      But in the past year, my response to Roman had changed—drastically. The dryness in my throat, the thickness in the air and the heat that flooded my senses whenever I was in his vicinity signaled clearly to me that I was way beyond the crush stage and well into lust territory where Roman was concerned. Still, I might have been able to ignore my body’s responses if I hadn’t become convinced the attraction I felt was reciprocated. I hadn’t been imagining the heated looks Roman had sent my way when he thought I wasn’t looking. And I certainly hadn’t imagined what had happened in his hospital room two days ago.

      Nearly a week had passed since he’d taken the nearly fatal fall that had put him in Saint Jude’s Trauma Center. He’d been injured at Saint Peter’s Church while saving his sister Juliana’s life, and it had been three more days before he’d fully regained consciousness and three days before the doctors had been able to say with certainty that there’d been no permanent injury to his spine.

      I’d come to visit him every chance I got. Before that, I’d been shy in Roman’s presence. But having almost lost him had motivated me to change my ways. Then two days ago, I’d been alone in the room with him. He’d been sleeping and because I couldn’t help myself—I’d slipped my hand into his just as I had when he’d been unconscious. I hadn’t even known that he was awake until his fingers had suddenly tightened on mine.

      Startled, I’d met his eyes, and the heat I’d seen there had more than matched what I was feeling. The sharp flood of desire was something I’d never experienced before. My whole body went into a meltdown, and my mind had emptied and filled with Roman.

      “Come here.” His voice had been raw, hungry, and there was a question in his tone that I’d answered by sitting down on the bed next to him. He’d moved quickly then, levering himself up and moving his free hand to the back of my neck to draw me even closer until his mouth was only a breath away from mine.

      Time had seemed to slow as everything about him flooded my senses. His eyes had been so beautifully dark. Had I noticed that before? And he’d smelled of soap, simple, basic. Wonderful. I could feel the press of each one of his fingers against the skin at the back of my neck.

      I’m not sure who moved first, but our mouths made contact. It wasn’t a kiss really—just the gentlest brush of lips against lips. But the pleasure was so intense, the need to have more so huge that when he’d suddenly dropped his hand and drew back, I’d wanted to cry out in protest. But before I could make a sound, someone had spoken from behind me.

      “Good morning, Philly. I’m beginning to believe that Roman’s recovery depends on your visits.”

      Roman’s father. I’d taken a moment to gather my thoughts before I turned to him and managed a smile.