By Appointment Only
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Teaser chapter
About the Author
Acclaim for Janice Maynard
The Perfect Ten
“If you . . . like your romance lovin’ hot, emotion-driven, and often, Maynard delivers in spades. Her novels are great choices when you’re looking for a read to sweeten up your day—or spice up your night.” —LifetimeTV.com
“Treat yourself to a great read as the three cousins each find their own Perfect Ten.” —A Romance Review
"A Perfect 10 all the way!” —RRTErotic
“Witty and provocative.” —Affaire de Coeur
Improper Etiquette
"Fast reading and quite sexy.” —Romantic Times
“Sassy and delicious.” —A Romance Review
“Sweet and sexy all at once.” —CK2S Kwips and Kritiques
Play with Me
“Passion + Fun = Play With Me. Janice Maynard delivers . . . By the end . . . three women’s secret fantasies come true, and readers will be left wanting another provocative tale.” —Erin McCarthy
“For the reader looking for hot, explicit sensuality, with tons of happy endings and good character development, Play with Me delivers. ” —TwoLips Reviews
Suite Fantasy
"Sweet, indeed. Romantic, entertaining, and sexy enough to leave you wanting more!” —Lori Foster
"All three novellas feature likeable characters in sensuous scenarios. What sets Maynard’s work apart from others in this genre is that she develops her characters and plot lines to the extent that the reader cares about what happens outside of the bedroom as well as within it.” —Romantic Times
“Heated and passionate.” —The Best Reviews
Praise for Janice Maynard’s other erotic romances
“Spicy, sweet success.” —Romantic Times
"Sizzling heat and a creative story line.” —Romance Reviews Today
“Readers will be caught up in the story from page one.”
—Love Romances
“The plot is carefully crafted, characters fully developed, and the level of writing is superb.” —A Romance Review
“Janice Maynard did a great job with this story, and I’ll definitely be looking for more of her work.” —Fallen Angel Reviews
ALSO BY JANICE MAYNARD
The Perfect Ten
Improper Etiquette
Play with Me
Suite Fantasy
SIGNET ECLIPSE
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First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, July 2008
Copyright © Janice Maynard, 2008
All rights reserved
SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:
Maynard, Janice.
By appointment only / Janice Maynard.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-436-23077-3
I. Title.
PS3613.A958B9 2008
813’.6—dc22 2008000730
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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To Emily Sylvan Kim . . .
A good agent is as difficult to find as the perfect pair of jeans! I’m grateful that you and I are such an excellent “fit.” ☺
I appreciate your enthusiasm for my work, your eye for a good story line, and the talent you bring to the business. May we share many more projects down the road.
Acknowledgments
A very special thank-you to my friend Wood! Your expertise in the field of civil engineering was invaluable. Any mistakes that ended up in the final manuscript are all mine.
I’m sure that if you had designed Hadrian’s Wall, it would still be standing today. ☺
One
Even minus the requisite white wedding dress, the woman fleeing down the front steps of a large, imposing church in downtown Orlando had a definite runaway bride vibe thing going on. Morgan Webber was minding his own business as he strolled along the sidewalk when she literally slammed into his shoulder, threatening to send them both crashing to the pavement.
Only his bulk and her quick footwork saved them. She tossed out a muttered apology, evaded his grasp, and darted out into the street. He watched aghast, wincing at the cacophony of blaring horns and screeching brakes, as she danced between the vehicles.
When she made it safely to the opposite curb, he actually glanced over his shoulder expecting to see a distraught groom in hot pursuit. But at the top of the steps, the sturdy oak doors, both decorated with large white ribbons, remained firmly closed.
Two things kept him from going on about his business. The first was simple curiosity. He sensed a drama in the making. But the second reason was even more compelling. The brief physical encounter smacked him square in the chest with a powerful sexual attraction.
His mystery lady was tall and slender and had masses of wavy brown hair t
hat bounced and tumbled on her shoulders. Even when she wasn’t in a dead run, he suspected that her extravagant hair would seem alive with the current of energy she exuded.
While he watched, bemused, she unlocked a fuchsia Kia, rummaged in the glove compartment, and backed out of the car to do a reverse dash, once again ignoring the irate motorists who tried to keep from killing her.
As she retraced her route, he jogged up the church steps close on her heels, compelled by an urgency that was probably only a reflection of hers. But he ran anyway, unwilling to miss the next act in this unfolding mystery.
By the time he stepped into the cool, dimly lit church, his fleet-footed, graceful gazelle was kneeling beside a tiny, gray-headed, supine female, opening the woman’s mouth and tucking a small pill beneath her tongue. A minister and a rail-thin, octogenarian groom hovered helplessly nearby along with a bald, middle-aged fellow who was apparently the best man.
Morgan held his breath unconsciously until the old lady’s eyes fluttered and opened. She looked up at her rescuer. “Stupid angina. Damn it, Hannah, my girl. What took you so long?”
In the flurry of nervous laughter that followed, Morgan allowed himself a closer inspection of the female who seemed to be in entire control of the situation.
Hannah grinned down at the small, elderly bride. “Sorry, Miss Beverly. Next time let’s leave those pills in your pocket.”
Beverly snorted as she allowed herself to be lifted to her feet. “No next time about it. This is my last trip down the aisle.”
Morgan lingered in the back of the church while the abruptly aborted wedding service continued. Shafts of sunlight filtered through massive stained-glass windows, painting Hannah with a rainbow of soft colors. Her generous lips curved in a smile as she watched the older couple repeat their vows.
If she knew Morgan watched her, she made no sign. But surely she must have sensed his intense absorption. He felt almost dizzy from the force of his heart pounding in his chest. He told himself it was the leftover adrenaline from thinking she would be hit by a car at any second.
But the truth was, he’d been the one to be metaphorically knocked on his ass. And he was in imminent danger of appearing to be a stalker and a wedding crasher at that. So he slipped into a pew at the rear of the sanctuary and sat quietly until the ceremony reached its conclusion.
There was no recessional, merely lots of hugs and congratulations and then finally a deep, resonant silence when the bride and groom, minister, and best man disappeared through a hallway at the side of the chancel area.
Now, only his Julia Roberts look-alike remained. She turned as if on cue and their eyes met. She was smiling, but it was a mocking smile. Whether she directed it at herself or at him, he couldn’t tell. He rose to his feet and walked toward her. After a split second, she moved as well.
They met in the middle of the church. She cocked her head, her sultry lips and wide-lashed eyes, brown he saw now, making him sweat beneath his dress shirt. He’d had a meeting with the suits at the bank earlier, hence his unusual attire in the middle of a workday. He much preferred the shorts and boots he wore on the job.
Though he topped six feet by a couple of inches, she was tall for a woman, and their lips were in touching distance. That odd thought shook him even more, and he swallowed against a dry throat.
Her ivory slip dress clung to her fit body and begged for a man’s touch. Finally she took pity on his mute state. “Do I know you?”
Her husky alto took what was left of the starch in his knees. He shook his head, trying to clear it. “No. But seeing a woman nearly run over . . . twice . . . tends to grab a man’s attention.”
She lifted a hand to his chin, shocking the crap out of him. Her long, slim fingers brushed his jaw in a brief caress that made note of the slight stubble she found. He’d been up at five a.m. to shave and dress, and it was now midafternoon.
When her hand fell away slowly, he forced himself not to grab for it. She lifted one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Your name?”
He forced the words past the lump in his throat. “Morgan Webber.”
She observed him like an exhibit in a museum, as if by analyzing his form she could come to some conclusions about his identity or his motives or even his moral character. Then her eyes lit with a combination of mischief and outrageous bravado. “Can I do anything for you?” she drawled, the words dripping with sexual overtones.
He studied her mouth with rapt fascination. “You could marry me,” he said, only half joking.
She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m afraid I don’t think much of that venerable institution.”
He frowned. “And yet here you are.”
She shrugged, the epitome of haughty sophistication. “I don’t impose my views on others.” Then her naughty smile returned. “I’m assuming you have no desire to kiss the real bride, so perhaps I’ll do as a substitute.”
And then she wrapped her slim arms around his neck, found his mouth with hers, and proceeded, like some ancient sorceress, to steal his heart away.
He sucked in a startled breath and managed to get with the program in a split second. She tasted like whipped cream and coffee, and her body in his arms was all curves and slippery silk and sensuous woman.
Though his boner was perhaps a foregone conclusion, he would have liked to disguise its importunate presence. But his stunning playmate was having none of that. She nudged her hips against his, making both of them tremble. Her tongue whispered and fluttered on his.
He was breathing fast, too fast. His hands went to her hips, gripping her ass in an effort to get closer. He was pretty sure he was breaking at least nine of the commandments and maybe a few lesser ones he wasn’t aware of.
But he couldn’t stop kissing her. It was like a dream, a surreal but impossibly sweet image conjured up by the palette of muted, prism-spread hues that cloaked them like an intangible blessing.
He knotted his fist in her hair, testing its thickness, its softness. He’d waited his whole life for a woman like this.
He wondered if she knew how close she came to having him make love to her in front of God and a host of dead saints. But before their incendiary embrace reached its inevitable conclusion, the modest wedding party reappeared.
Hannah sighed and pulled back, her attention already lured away from him. She touched his face one more time, gently, as though fascinated by the feel of his skin. “You’re a great kisser, Morgan Webber,” she whispered.
And then his lovely, unexpected gift of a woman abandoned him without a backward glance.
He started after her, stopped, and glanced down at his watch with a curse. He had a very important meeting in exactly forty-five minutes. One he couldn’t miss.
Damn it. He took one more step toward Hannah and then halted with a groan. He had people depending on him. This incident was far from over. But the conclusion would have to wait. Even if he didn’t know her name.
It took him six months to translate that breathtaking moment into an honest to God, real proposal . . .
“Hey, boss. Julio says that load of block is screwed. Some accident out on the interstate. We’re going to have to wait until tomorrow.”
Morgan cursed beneath his breath and jerked his mind back to the present. He wiped his face with the back of his arm and squinted into the blinding sun. Orlando in August was a bitch. Even though he’d lived here his entire life with the exception of the six years he’d spent at Georgia Tech, getting his undergrad and then earning a master’s degree in civil engineering, he was as miserable as the next guy when the mercury topped ninety-five and the humidity was a numerical match.
He tried to concentrate on the expanse of rough, graded soil and filler that expanded in neat sections as far as the eye could see. The undertaking he faced required his utmost attention, and he’d do well to remember it.
He might be the project manager, but the big bosses were always breathing down his neck, and he’d never yet failed to bring a job in under budget and on time.
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They were in the midst of reclaiming acres of spongy land south of the airport in preparation for the construction of a massive theme park that would provide competition for Disney and Universal. Time Travelers would eventually boast opportunities for visitors to experience medieval jousts, piratical adventures on the high seas, dragon slaying contests, caveman battles, and a host of other improbable but entertaining activities.
Morgan was thankful that his work would be finished long before the first gangly teenage fans appeared on site. Morgan’s responsibilities were far more practical than whimsical. His task was to make sure that the acres of pavement to come were well drained. So he had to build an underground detention system, among other things, to catch, control, and regulate runoff from heavy rainfall.
They’d had to wait almost a year for the state to approve the Storm Water Pollution Prevention Plan, and now all systems were go. His geotech guys had designed the foundations and were now preparing to inspect the footings. So far, everything was falling into place. It gave him a deep sense of satisfaction to wrestle an unappealing swath of land into a usable, even attractive, piece of property.
The unique Florida soil presented some problems that other parts of the country rarely had to deal with, but it helped that he was a native and knew what he was facing. He’d never yet met a project he couldn’t tackle with success.
Which wasn’t to say that his personal life was as easy or as smooth. After that first day in the church, he’d had a hell of a time locating the elusive Hannah. Fortunately the minister was amenable to swapping some nonsensitive info for Morgan’s sizeable donation. Hannah worked as a personal shopper for the residents of a trio of retirement communities, and as it turned out, she had a neat condo not far from Morgan’s apartment.
The spark he’d experienced during their initial, emotionally fraught wedding encounter was still there when he showed up on her doorstep a couple of weeks later and asked her out. They flirted, they dated, they kissed . . . they ended up in bed. Repeatedly. And the sex was phenomenal, even from the beginning.