Seduce Me Read online

  “Sam, what are you doing to me?”

  Hopefully driving him half as wild as he was driving her. With Jack standing so close, cupping her face with his big hands, avoiding a dance had become the last thing on her mind. “I should mention—” Sam sank her teeth into his earlobe, thrilling to the sound that dragged from him “—it’s been a little too long for me. I’m liking this way too much.”

  “Don’t tell me that.” His hand skimmed up her back, while the other rested on her hip. His thumb glided over her belly, then moved upward, stroking each rib as it climbed. He traced her last rib, then just barely touched the bottom curve of her breast.

  All the while his gaze held her, conveying hunger, passion, desire…more heady than the champagne she’d sipped. She let out a shuddery breath.

  Then his thumb made another sweep, not quite touching her nipple, and she had to concentrate on breathing.

  Sinking her fingers into his hair, she brought his mouth back to hers, and their moans mingled, becoming part of the crazy, wild kiss.

  Dear Reader,

  I’ve always wanted to be a surfer girl. I grew up in L.A. in the fun and sun, but alas, I was never coordinated enough to make it on a surfboard. So I created a heroine who was. Samantha O’Ryan—Sam to her friends—is one tough cookie. She’s had to be. Surfing in the mornings, running her little café in the afternoons, she thinks she has it all.

  Enter one Jack Knight, ex-basketball star and current rich bum. After a life in the limelight, all he wants is peace and quiet. But then these two are thrown together by one well-meaning nosy older sister, a fancy charity event complete with obnoxious paparazzi, and a dunking booth.

  Oh, and throw in a red-hot, undeniable attraction like nothing either Sam or Jack have ever experienced. Watch them both fall hard. Hope you do, too.

  Best wishes and happy reading,

  Jill Shalvis

  Books by Jill Shalvis

  HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

  742—WHO’S THE BOSS?

  771—THE BACHELOR’S BED

  804—OUT OF THE BLUE

  822—CHANCE ENCOUNTER

  845—AFTERSHOCK

  861—A PRINCE OF A GUY

  878—HER PERFECT STRANGER

  885—FOR THE LOVE OF NICK

  910—ROUGHING IT WITH RYAN*

  914—TANGLING WITH TY*

  918—MESSING WITH MAC*

  938—LUKE

  962—BACK IN THE BEDROOM

  HARLEQUIN DUETS

  28—NEW AND…IMPROVED?

  42—KISS ME, KATIE!

  HUG ME, HOLLY!

  57—BLIND DATE DISASTERS

  EAT YOUR HEART OUT

  85—A ROYAL MESS

  HER KNIGHT TO REMEMBER

  HARLEQUIN BLAZE

  63—NAUGHTY BUT NICE

  132—BARED

  HARLEQUIN FLIPSIDE

  5—NATURAL BLOND INSTINCTS

  HARLEQUIN SINGLE TITLE

  THE STREET WHERE SHE LIVES

  Seduce Me

  JILL SHALVIS

  To my very own future basketball stars

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  1

  SAMANTHA O’RYAN had been eyeing half-naked, wet, glistening men for hours under the guise of teaching them to surf. They’d offered to pay her but, truthfully, she’d gotten the most out of the deal. She just loved being in the water, on her board. After she finished giving the group of college kids pointers, she walked down the beach and up the stairs to let herself into her outdoor café, where she went to work on her second love—creating fun, exotic sandwiches.

  As she served her customers, she realized she had no plans after work, her favorite kind of evening. She could bodysurf by moonlight if she chose, or drive up Pacific Coast Highway as far as a tank of gas would take her…anything.

  That was the beauty of being unencumbered.

  Although she wouldn’t mind being temporarily encumbered—for a night, that is. It had been a long dry spell without a guy around.

  Her own fault.

  “You sold everything.” Lorissa Barrett, her best friend and part-time server at the Wild Cherries café, looked surprised as she surveyed the empty display cases at the cash register. “Well, except the brownies. You make terrible brownies.”

  “Hey, thanks.”

  But Lorissa was right. Everything but the brownies were gone, including the new turkey-with-mango-spread special. Sam could drum up inventive stuff like that with ease, bake the most mouthwatering cookies on the planet, but she failed at brownies every single time. She knew why; she just didn’t like to think about it.

  “Sorry.” Looking anything but, Lorissa leaned against the counter, her amusement slowly fading.

  “Uh-oh,” Sam said. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  They had a long history and knew each other better than anyone else did. “If it’s nothing, then stop staring at me like you’re trying to get your nerve up for something.”

  “I’m not.”

  Sam shrugged and turned back to cleaning the countertop.

  Lorissa sighed. “Okay, I have this favor.”

  “Pass.” It was a hot one today, and Sam swiped at her forehead, then dusted off the display cases.

  “You can’t turn down a favor when you don’t even know what it is.” Lorissa tossed back her long, red, wildly curly hair and pushed out her full, highly glossed lower lip in a pout that was extremely effective on men, but not on Sam.

  “Sure I can. In fact, I just did.” Sam moved outside to the bright red plastic tables, wiping them down, lowering their red-and-white-striped umbrellas, all the while watching the sun slowly sink into the glorious Pacific Ocean. “When you ask for a favor in the same tone you might mention a funeral, I know better than to even hesitate.” Sam stretched out the muscles in her neck and back, and thought a midnight swim later tonight might be just the thing she needed, especially in lieu of a man.

  “You could at least let me tell you what the favor is.”

  “I do not want a blind date,” Sam said emphatically.

  Lorissa rolled her eyes. “The way you read my mind really creeps me out.”

  “It doesn’t take a psychic. You’ve got a hot new fling going with that rich Cole guy, and he keeps asking you to set up his friends with your friends.”

  “I’m sorry. This is what happens when you’re my bestest friend.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere.” Sam shifted to the covered patio area and checked the tables there. All clean. “You know I’ve been quite patient through all the hideous blind dates you’ve set me up with over the years. I’m not interested in trying another.”

  “They haven’t all been hideous.”

  “I have two words for you—Toe Guy.”

  “Okay, that one can be explained. I forgot your weird foot fetish, and how was I supposed to know about his accident with the lawn mower?”

  “I don’t want a date tonight.”

  “Good. Because it’s for tomorrow night.”

  Sam walked back inside to the kitchen and looked around, cleaning up as she went. All she needed to do now was shut off the lights and she was done. She could head out…or simply go upstairs, where she had a nice little apartment. Little being the key word, of course, but she liked little, and the place was her own. She’d made it so. “I’m busy tomorrow night.”

  “Please, Sam. One date, that’s
all I’m asking.” Lorissa batted her long lashes over her light caramel eyes. “Cole promises me this guy is rich.”

  “And yet he can’t get his own date.” Sam hit the switches and the main part of the café went dark. She locked the small kitchen and pulled the retractable gate around the patio area. “What’s wrong with that picture, Lorissa?”

  “Listen.” Lorissa pressed her fingers to her temples, closing her eyes for a second. When she opened them, they were filled with emotion. “I really like this one, Sammie.”

  Sam took a good look at her. She’d known Lorissa twenty-odd years, since kindergarten. Together, they’d already been through so much: Lorissa’s parents’ nasty divorce, her mother’s suicide when they’d been twelve, and a close friend’s overdose at age thirteen. Then Sam losing her parents in a car wreck on the night of their eighth-grade graduation. Between them they’d racked up more mileage on the road of life than most others their age.

  And they’d survived, each in her own way. Lorissa had stayed with her father and his new wife, trying junior college in San Diego but deciding higher learning wasn’t for her. Now, she drew caricatures on the beach and was good enough to make a decent living at the local weekend Malibu craft fairs. She supplemented this income by serving weekdays at Wild Cherries—when she wasn’t busy surfing.

  As for Sam, she’d gone to live with Red, her mother’s beach-bum brother, who’d had no more idea of what to do with a hurting kid than how to cope with his own grief. The car accident that had killed her parents had been her father’s fault and by the time the dust had settled years later, Sam was left with little money. She’d already begun working at Red’s place, Wild Cherries. Happy enough to have her friends, she’d lived in the moment—surfing in the mornings, working a shift for cranky uncle Red in the afternoons…an easy career choice.

  During the few times she let herself think too much, she remembered her motto: Enjoy every little thing as it happens, appreciate all of it. She repeated that mantra often, because she knew that if she ever acknowledged all she’d been through, she’d drown. As a coping mechanism, it had worked.

  And as the years passed, little changed. Red retired, and Sam scrimped, saved and went into debt to buy the business from him. Now, at twenty-six, things were good. Maybe she didn’t often engage her emotions, but she didn’t want to. She recognized that about herself and was smart enough to know she couldn’t even skim that pool; it simply went too deep.

  Like Sam, Lorissa also had commitment issues. For her to date a man more than once was rare, much less admit she really liked him. “You sure about this Cole guy?” Sam asked Lorissa now. “You know how rich guys are. They’re like the too-good-looking ones—they always turn out to be jerks.”

  “Not this one.” Lorissa’s smile was earnest. “Please, Sam. Just one little date. Just one short night out of your life—”

  “Yeah.” She was still shocked at Lorissa’s willingness to fall for Cole. “Fine.”

  “—It won’t be so bad, and you can call me from your cell phone every few minutes. If you need me, I’ll come up with a way to rescue you, I promise. I—”

  “I said fine.”

  “I’ll give you—”

  “Lor, honey, I’ll do it.”

  Lorissa blinked and gave a slow, relieved smile. “Really?”

  “But I swear to you, if he’s got hair plugs or garlic breath or tries to cop a feel, I’m outta there.”

  Lorissa beamed. “Deal.”

  Great. Deal. Sam turned away from the café and looked at the ocean. Four- to five-footers pounded the surf. A jogger made his way down the sand, along with a few other stragglers. For a hot late August evening, the place was quiet. “Let’s go for a swim.”

  Lorissa checked her watch, something she rarely did. In fact, Sam couldn’t believe she was even wearing a watch. “I’ve got an hour before I’m catching up with Cole.”

  “You’ve been late since the day you were born. Why the sudden concern with being on time?”

  “I’m meeting his parents.”

  Sam did a double take. Parents? That sounded…real, and she suddenly took this whole thing more seriously. “Hasn’t it only been a week?”

  “Yes, but it seems like a lifetime,” Lorissa said with a dreamy sigh.

  As they walked to the water, Sam got all protective. “What does he do again?”

  “He’s in marketing.”

  “Marketing.” How…vague. Her bikini was already under her sundress as usual, which she stripped off and Lorissa did the same.

  “You’re going to love him, I promise,” Lorissa said.

  Sam would see about that. Privately, she was already prepared to hate the guy who’d captured her best friend’s heart. He’d better treat her right, or she’d—

  “Which reminds me…” Lorissa grimaced. “There’s sort of a stipulation about your date.”

  “Stipulation?”

  “The guy is a client of Cole’s, as well as a friend. The deal is you go with him to some big fancy charity event—”

  “Whoa. Dressing up?”

  “Yes, dressing up. You make nice at the charity dinner and auction, and you can’t talk to the press.”

  “Who is this guy?” Sam pictured some smarmy, overly sophisticated businessman gone Hollywood.

  “Just remember, rich.”

  “Great.”

  “So you agree to the terms? The no talking to the press thing?” Lorissa shot her a worried look. “Since you’ve never been fond of the press anyway, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

  Tomorrow night was going to be one long exercise in patience. Not that Sam had anything against dating. The opposite, actually. She enjoyed going out and meeting men.

  But a guy she hadn’t picked, laying down rules…it all just went against the grain somehow. And yet, there Lorissa stood in her yellow bikini and hopeful expression, so Sam offered a weak smile. “No problem.”

  Lorissa’s grin was brilliant. “I owe you one.”

  “Yeah. Remember that.”

  And in perfect sync, they plunged from the still-warm sand into the oncoming wave.

  THE NEXT EVENING, Sam was floating on her back between swells, watching the glorious sun touch its bottom tip on the ocean, that lovely time between day and night, when the birds and stars strained for equal time against a dusky sky. The air was still and hot as the soothingly chilly water lapped over her.

  Sam figured she could float out here the rest of the evening and never tire of it.

  “Sam!”

  Damn. Lorissa had found her, and probably just in time for her date. Given the volume of swearing over the roar of the waves, she had precious little time left before her date showed up but she stretched out in the water, trying to swim her doubts away. She didn’t often have worries, or so she liked to think, but today she had one big one.

  She wished she hadn’t agreed to the date. She’d rather be catching the Bewitched marathon in her pj’s, eating at will. She knew she had the makings for her newest creation—Fritos smashed into cheddar cheese on French bread. She’d melt it over the stove and happily stuff her face—

  “Samantha Anne O’Ryan, get your ass out of the water!”

  With a sigh, she flipped over and rode a wave in, beaching herself. Flopping onto her back on the hot sand, she shoved her long, blond hair from her eyes and grinned up at a serious-looking Lorissa. “Hey.”

  Lorissa put her hands on her hips and studied Sam grimly. “I am not amused.”

  “So I’m running a little late.”

  “Run late on your own night.”

  “I have ten minutes before he’s due to pick me up.”

  “He’s here now.”

  “Ah, man.” Sam sat up, taking the towel Lorissa tossed down into her face. “An obsessive compulsive.”

  “I’ve given him a soda. He’s sitting at a table.”

  “But I already closed up.”

  “Well, I reopened. I’ll close again after you’re gone.
Come on. We’ll sneak in the back door, get you into the bathroom to snazzy yourself up.”

  Samantha glanced down at her efficient, basic black bikini. She was covered in sand and had nasty twin bruises on her thigh and hip, where she’d gotten surprised on her board this morning, tumbling through a full set before managing to get upright. “I look fine.”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Just kidding. Jeez, lighten up. I’m the one facing Boring Night Out.” Sam rose, gently patted Lorissa’s cheek. “Honestly, you’re just so cute when you’re being mom, yelling at me, using my middle name—”

  “I’m going to use my middle finger in a minute.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m going.”

  Taking care not to be seen, they crept in the back kitchen door of Wild Cherries, with Lorissa shoving Sam’s head low, beneath the counter.

  Once in the bathroom, Sam stepped to the sink and eyed herself. Her mirror didn’t lie. Her hair had rioted and she wore no makeup.

  “Start fancying yourself up, you look like hell,” her supposed best friend said, gesturing to the cold water coming out of the faucet.

  “You’re going to really owe me,” Sam swore, but got to work getting the sand off her body. Then she dipped her head in the sink to rinse the salt out of her hair. “Towel.” Blindly, she took it from Lorissa and dried herself.

  “And remember,” Lorissa instructed, trying to finger-comb Sam’s hair. “Don’t talk to the press—”

  “I remember.” She snatched the black cocktail dress hanging on the back of the bathroom stall and started to shimmy into it. The bathroom was small and hot and she wished she was still in the water. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you haven’t told me how gorgeous he is.”

  Lorissa’s gaze met hers in the mirror while Sam pulled the little stretchy dress over her bikini. She slipped into the black strappy sandals her surfer buddies would have howled at, knowing she had maybe a thirty-minute window for comfort. After that, Blister City.