When a Marquess Loves a Woman (22 page)

T
he Panic of 1825 was one of the first major stock market crashes. At the conclusion of the Napoleonic Wars, a period of rapid expansion followed. People were looking to the future, wanting a little nest egg, and ready to forge ahead with new ideas that would make their country stronger than ever. Investments boomed. From large cities to small hamlets, banks were writing checks (which they may or may not have been able to cash) to bring the railroad their way. It was surely an exciting time. In fact, the criminals thought so, too.

There were a number of swindlers who created “opportunities” for investment (such as the gold and silver mines of the fictitious Latin American territory of Poyais). This rush to riches and improvement created a bubble in the economy, filled with little more than false promises and hot air. Then one day, like one of Professor Faraday's balloons, it burst.

Once it was discovered that this territory never existed, let alone the abundant wealth investors would gain, panic ensued. People scrambled to the banks for their money all at once, the stock market crashed, and banks could no longer withstand the demands.

The Panic and subsequent recession lasted to the early part of the following year. Afterward, the economy started to grow again, but more cautiously this time.

Unfortunately, the fictional Juliet Granworth was not around to offer assistance. Otherwise, I'm certain she could have sorted out the whole mess much sooner.

I
've been incredibly blessed to write eleven titles for the Impulse imprint. The amazing people at Avon have only enhanced this dream come true.

I'm grateful to my editor, Nicole Fischer, for her easygoing nature and insightful notes in the margins. Many thanks to the entire art department for creating enticing covers and to the marketing and publicity teams for all their promotional endeavors.

Thanks as well to my agent, Stefanie Lieberman, for encouraging me to discover fresh ideas.

To the wonderful Lisa Filipe, your enthusiastic support has touched my heart.

And to my readers, it is because of your generosity that Max and Juliet's story became a reality. Thank you.

USA Today
bestselling author
VIVIENNE LORRET
loves romance novels, her pink laptop, her husband, and her two sons (not necessarily in that order . . . but there are days). Transforming copious amounts of tea into words, she is an Avon Impulse author of works including
Tempting Mr. Weatherstone
, The Wallflower Wedding series, The Rakes of Fallow Hall series, “The Duke's Christmas Wish,” and the Season's Original series.

Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at
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.

The Season's Original Series

“The Duke's Christmas Wish”
in
All I Want for Christmas Is a Duke

The Debutante Is Mine

This Earl is on Fire

When a Marquess Loves a Woman

The Rakes of Fallow Hall Series

The Elusive Lord Everhart

The Devilish Mr. Danvers

The Maddening Lord Montwood

The Wallflower Wedding Series

Tempting Mr. Weatherstone
(novella)

Daring Miss Danvers

Winning Miss Wakefield

Finding Miss McFarland

H
e could have hit the Stop button and kissed her in the elevator, but there was probably a security camera. He didn't really care, but she might not like being the center of attention when the snip of video got leaked to the local press or put up on YouTube. He wasn't letting her drive away without kissing her, though.

She paused in front of her car as she turned to face him.

“I had such a nice time. Thank you so much for dinner,” she said. She shuffled her feet a little. He'd observed her so many times while she did her job. She always seemed at ease, even during the turbulence they'd experienced on the last Sharks flight. Maybe she had the same butterflies in her stomach that he had in his.

He moved a little closer to her and slid his arm around her waist. She tipped her head back to look into his eyes. He had to smile at the flush making its way over her cheeks as she licked her lips. Yes, Daisy wanted to kiss him too.

He touched his forehead to hers for a few seconds. Her skin was so soft. He could smell her perfume. He couldn't identify the flowers in it if someone offered him a million dollars, but it was nice. The parking garage was not exactly the backdrop for romance. Next time, he'd say good-bye to her at her front door instead.

“I had a great time too. I'm already looking forward to next Thursday,” he said.

“Maybe we could go bungee jumping.”

“Sounds perfect,” he said. He heard her laugh again. “Right after that, we'll go zip-lining at Sharks Stadium.”

He felt her shiver. He wasn't sure if it was the fact she was wearing an almost sleeveless dress, the idea she'd be that far off of the ground and speeding along a relatively slender cable, or that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. He needed to make his move, and he'd better do it before someone came screeching around the corner in search of a parking spot. He reached up to take her face in his hands.

“Maybe we should have a glass of wine in front of a roaring fire instead,” he whispered, and he watched her eyelids flutter as they closed. He touched his mouth to hers, adjusted a bit, and kissed her.

She tasted like the wine they'd been drinking with a fresh, honeyed overlay that must have been all her. Her lips were soft and cool beneath his. He felt her arms slide around his waist as he deepened the kiss. He slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting her again. As he felt her tremble, he knew it had nothing to do with the cold. He pulled back a little and laid his cheek against her smoother one.

He wanted to kiss her until they both were breathless. He wanted to spend the rest of the evening with her, and maybe tomorrow too. Mostly, he wanted to figure out how to entice a woman into falling in love with him, and he wondered if he'd been going about it all wrong. The woman who currently regarded him with a soft expression as she reached up to stroke his face deserved more than he'd offered to women before.

“Thursday,” he said. “I'll text you.”

“Should I get more life insurance?”

“No. We'll have a great time.” He pulled back a little and looked into her eyes. “I promise I'll figure something out that doesn't land us both in a body cast.”

She dug through her purse, extracted her car keys, and hit the button to unlock her car. He made sure she was safely inside. She started her car, opened the driver's side window, and looked up at him again.

“Thursday,” she said.

He watched the taillights of her car vanish around the corner seconds later.

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O
h hell, she should push him away. A better friend would demand that Josh Summers share his pies with a woman willing to daydream about a place in his picture-perfect future. She shouldn't let him waste his life waiting for her to make up her mind about a first date.

“You should do it,” she said firmly. “You should buy the land. What are you waiting for?”

He cocked his head. One red curl fell across his forehead. His hair looked as if he'd rolled out of bed, run his fingers through the loose, wavy locks and prepared to face another day looking like an Irish god who'd somehow landed in rural Oregon. Though that might have something to do with the muscles he'd fine-tuned over the years of felling trees.

But right now she kept her gaze focused on his face, waiting for his answer.

“What if I decide on five bedrooms and the woman I want to share my dream home with thinks it's too much. I might have to settle for three in order to talk her into an outdoor kitchen that I'm thinking about building in addition to the monstrous one in the house.”

“As long as you're not planning to turn half the house into some sort of man cave with beer pong tables lining the hallways, I think you'll find someone who will love your dream house,” she said. “Of course to meet that special someone you will have to start dating.”

And that was as close as she was going to get to kicking him in the butt and demanding that he turn his focus away from her. They could remain friends. But another kiss would just lead to a dead end.

His smile faded. “You think I should ask someone else to be my date to the wedding?”

She forced a brief nod and let her gaze settle on the half-eaten pie.

“No,” he said slowly, lingering over the simple word. “I don't think so. But I might put in an offer on that land.”

“You should do both,” she pointed out despite the relief that threatened to turn to joy. “I can't move into your four-to five-bedroom dream home. Not when I'm still so . . .”

Scared.

Nearly fifteen months had slipped by since she'd run away from the military. She'd pressed pause on her life that day. There had been moments here and there were she'd felt ready to hit play again and move on. Each one revolved around the man standing across the stainless steel counter looking down at his pie.

“A couple of weeks ago you stopped wearing those baggy cargo pants.” Josh dug his fork into the dish and glanced up at her. “I like the skinny jeans better.”

Me too. And I like the way you look at my legs when you think I'm distracted . . .

“I stood out in the cargo pants and boots,” she said with a shrug. “Lily said I'd blend in more if I dressed like the university students. And Josie had some clothes she didn't think would ever fit again even if she lost all the baby weight. She gave these to me.”

“You stand out in those jeans too. I'm glad I only have to share the view with the dishwasher.” He nodded to the machine. “And not all those young kids from the college.”

“You're twenty-eight, Josh. Not that much older than those ‘young kids.' Many of them are graduate students.”

“More than half would love to have you serve their drinks,” he said.

“I like it back here where no one will—”

“Notice you. Yeah, I get that. But my point is, you've changed since you first showed up here looking for Noah.” He set down his fork and took a step back. “Who knows what will happen next?”

“Nothing.”

I hope. I pray.

Because the only life-changing events she could imagine would land her in trouble. She'd carved out a safe place to hide. She had a cash job and a place to live thanks to her boss. If she lost this—

“Something always happens next.” He turned and headed for the door.

She'd touched the hard planes of his chest when she'd kissed him, but the view of his backside left her wanting more. More pies. More conversation. More Josh.

One . . . Two . . . Three . . .

He turned and glanced over his shoulder. And then he flashed a knowing smile. Oh, she'd seen plenty of hard-bodied men. She'd served alongside soldiers with drool-worthy muscles. There was nothing special about Josh Summers.

Except for his smile.

She was falling for that grin and the man who wielded it like an enticing treat. Tempted to trust in him. Believe in him.

“I'll see you at the wedding,” he called and then he walked his delicious smile out the door of the bar's back room.

She abandoned her fork and dipped her fingers in the pie dish. Sugar. She needed a burst of sweetness to take her mind off Josh Summers.

Next time he asks you to lick the whipped cream from your lips, say yes!

Because Josh Summers was right. Something always happened next. And if she wanted to reclaim her life— or at least a small piece of it— if she wished for another chance to land in Josh's arms with his lips pressed to hers, then she needed to find out what happened when she said yes.

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Mixing Temptation
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