Debra Webb - In His Touch Box Set (Here To Stay, Up Close, Tempting Trace, Basic Instincts) (51 page)

Clamping her gaping mouth, Claire stalked past him and unlocked the door. She shoved it inward and stormed into the apartment. After pitching her purse onto the sofa she turned to him.

“Of all the unmitigated gall,” she hissed, then fisted her hands at her waist. “I’ll sue. You won’t get away with it this time, you egotistical Neanderthal.” She stamped her foot as she wondered how on earth she’d ever fallen in love with such a jerk! Claire took a step in his direction, then stabbed an accusing finger in his too-handsome face. “You, Trace Walker, are lower than a snake’s belly. You’re... you’re,” she stammered, suddenly aware of how close she was to him, “lower than pond scum!”

He leaned in even closer, his breath whispered across her mouth. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.” Those tempting lips eased into a heart-twisting smile.

“Out!” Claire pointed at the door. “I want you out of here!”

He rocked back on his heels, his arms folded casually over his chest. “You can’t throw me out, I own the place. Besides, don’t you want to hear the rest of what I have to say?”

“Hell, no,” she ground out. “The next time we have a discussion, it’ll be across a courtroom.”

He sighed dramatically, then tucked two fingers into his front pocket and withdrew something. When he took a moment to inspect the object, Claire’s heart stumbled in her chest. A ring!
It was an engagement ring!

“I don’t guess I’ll be needing this then.” He shrugged and started to tuck the ring safely back into his pocket.

“Just a minute!” Claire snapped, then her voice softened, matching the puddle her heart was melting into. “What is that?”

“Since you don’t have a place to live in Nashville anymore, I was going to ask you to marry me. Then you could live with me.” The sweet sincerity in his eyes confirmed his words.

Shock, complete and profound, shook her. “What?” The word whooshed out with the breath that departed her lungs.

He eased closer, the hunger in his eyes took her breath away. “Give me one more chance, Claire. Just one, and I swear I won’t screw it up this time.”

Torn between running for her life and throwing her arms around him, Claire stood still. He’d said all the right things, except one. Her heart wanted to rejoice, but she tamped down the impulse. Self-protection held her back. “And when did you experience this revelation?”

Trace leveled that stunning blue gaze solidly on hers. “I love you, Claire. I love you more than life and I don’t ever want to be without you again.” He swallowed, then continued, “I’ve never really been in love before. Annette was...” He dropped his head for a long moment, then lifted his gaze back to hers. “Was a mistake. I was young. A lot of my past has been mistakes, but I don’t want us to be a mistake. I don’t want to live with the past anymore. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. To share every aspect of myself with you. To make love to you every day for as long as I live. To have children with you.” His hand shaking, he raked his fingers through his hair, leaving that one errant lock of coal black trailing down his forehead. “I love you, Claire.”

Claire chewed her lower lip, she would not cry. She absolutely would not cry. She had to be sure. “And you understand that I can’t make you any promises about forever?” She moved closer then, close enough to savor the scent of him, to feel the need vibrating from his body. “I can’t swear that I’ll be there for you the rest of your life. I can only promise to be there and love you for the rest of
mine
. Is that enough, Trace? Can you take that risk? Can you love me like that, never knowing what tomorrow holds?”

“Yes.”

Claire searched his eyes for any uncertainty. “Are you sure about that? Absolutely sure?”

He smiled so sweetly that Claire almost lost it. She blinked back the tears threatening her tenuous grip on control.

“I’m absolutely sure,” he said softly. Trace took Claire’s hand in his, then pressed it to the center of his chest. “I can feel it right here.”

Claire threw her arms around him then. His arms wrapped her waist. “I love you, Trace,” she murmured.

And then his lips captured hers. His kiss was long and deep, reminding Claire of the days and nights they’d spent together making long, slow love, and hinting at things to come.

When he at last came up for air, he murmured, “Just say yes, Claire.”

“Yes,” she whispered against his lips. “Yes.”

Never a man to do anything half way, he carried her to bed and showed her just how very much he loved her.

BASIC INSTINCTS

Debra Webb

Chapter One

“It’s about sex.”

Meredith Langston turned from the full-length mirror and stared, annoyed, at her friend who sat on the edge of the queen-size sleigh bed.

Shelley shrugged her slender shoulders innocently. “You said so in your book, remember?”

Meredith rolled her eyes and let out a disgusted breath.
The book
. The bane of her existence. The media had taken all her thoughtful research and months of hard work and turned it into something else entirely.

“Sex. It’s all about sex,” Shelley repeated as if she were the final authority. “Mating, the survival of the species and all that jazz.”

“It’s that precise misconception that has me in this particular fix,” Meredith grumbled. It was immensely frustrating that she couldn’t get that across to anyone. “
Basic Instincts
is about a lot more than mere sex.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Shelley acknowledged with a put-upon sigh. She combed her fingers through her tousled auburn curls, then waved her hands dramatically. Two years of acting classes had only increased her ability to be emphatic. “It’s about men and women and what drives them to mate.”

Meredith narrowed her eyes at her oldest and dearest friend. “For life, Shelley. It’s about the instincts that drive them to mate for life.” Was Meredith the only one who got exactly what the book was about? Shelley was an actress, for heaven’s sake. Couldn’t she at least pretend to get it?

“Fine.” Her friend pushed to her feet. Hands on hips, she surveyed Meredith with wide, assessing green eyes. “Let’s get back to the problem at hand.” She tapped her chin with one purple-nailed finger, her brow scrunched in concentration, then nodded. “This is just the effect I was hoping for.”

“I look like a fool,” Meredith murmured. She slid her palms down the red silk in a useless effort to lengthen the too-short dress. This was Shelley’s style, not hers. She had never worn a dress this short in her life. Her friend, on the other hand, remained forever tall, thin, and on the cutting edge of anything... except her research.

Shelley frowned, then arched one eyebrow. “You don’t look like a fool.” A wicked smile slid across her brightly painted lips. “You look hot. Very hot,” she added in a sultry voice.

With a beleaguered sigh, Meredith stared at the woman in the mirror, who looked nothing at all like her. A strapless red silk dress, red stiletto heels, and all that hair. Her lips tilted downward, matching her mood. Accustomed to wearing her hair in a serviceable bun, she wondered how Shelley had made it look so full and wavy. It draped her shoulders and looked all bouncy like the showy hair-dos the models sported in shampoo commercials. Meredith had no idea her hair would even do that. She never had time for such frivolities anyway. Without thinking, she touched the bridge of her nose to push her glasses up, but they weren’t there.

“It’ll take a while to get used to the contacts,” Shelley offered, holding another of their image-changing shopping spree finds against her lithe body. The black number laced up the sides and was even racier than the one Meredith was wearing.

Meredith’s frown deepened as she turned her attention back to the mirror. The missing glasses were the least of her problems. “I feel like my face is naked.” She wrinkled her nose. “Except for the cosmetics you insisted I wear. I don’t see how you stand it. It feels so
fake
.”

Shelley tossed the black dress on the bed with obvious impatience. “You’re wearing hardly any makeup at all,” she protested. “You’re one of the lucky girls who has perfect skin. A smidgen of foundation, a little blush, a dab of eye shadow and you’re good to go.”

Meredith tried again to pull the hem of her dress down another inch. “Whatever you say.”

“Stop fidgeting with that dress.” Shelley slapped at her hands. “You’re on a hunt, Meredith. And when you’re on a hunt, you have to dress in a way that helps you blend in with the surroundings yet entices your prey.” She turned Meredith back toward the mirror. “And this, my dear, is definitely a
man
-hunting outfit.”

Meredith stared at the stranger in the mirror. “Man hunting. This is insane.”

Shelley shook her head in blatant exasperation. “Call it what you will, but it’s the only way you’re going to be able to get the research you need.”

Shelley was right, Meredith thought, ready to admit defeat. Since
Basic Instincts
hit the shelves two months ago, it had not only stayed on the top on the
New York Times
bestseller list, it had also generated more media attention than the latest Congressional scandal—which was saying something. She squeezed her eyes shut and blocked the image of the seductress staring back at her. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she sat down to write the book. In fact, it was so far from her expectations that she still had trouble believing it had happened.

But it had.

Meredith couldn’t say for sure at the moment whether she would do this again if given the opportunity to go back in time.

Distressed and emotionally drained from counseling couples whose marriages were in trouble, she had attempted to put into perspective the elusive instincts that drew men and women together. In particular, the special something which allowed some to remain happily married for the rest of their lives. By publishing her findings in a format anyone could enjoy and learn from, she had hoped to reach as many couples as possible—from a safe distance. Face-to-face counseling sessions were hard on a therapist who couldn’t keep his or her own feelings neutral. Unfortunately, Meredith couldn’t always turn off her emotions. Writing a book had seemed like the perfect solution.

But she had not anticipated its success at all. Touted as the hottest non-fiction release in recent publishing history,
Basic Instincts
had been dubbed the “sex bible” by the media. Meredith winced inwardly at the thought. Every billboard in New York, every televised talk show, and every newspaper and magazine across the country was focused on her, Dr. Meredith Langston, the author of the hot new guide to sex, love, and relationships.

Meredith opened her eyes once more. The enormous media attention left her no alternative but to do this. She surveyed her barely recognizable reflection one last time. God, she hoped this would work.

Nigel, the agent recommended by a friend in the business, had known immediately that
Basic Instincts
would be a bestseller. The manuscript sold to Wagner House after a brief but spirited bidding war. Being the top agent he was, and Meredith being the naïve new author she was, Nigel had negotiated a two-book contract. If only she hadn’t mentioned the follow-up book she planned to do, she could have gone into hiding and stayed there until the media frenzy died down.

Oh, well, there was no getting around it now. Her editor at Wagner was pushing for
Impulses
right now, wanting to strike while the iron was still hot. Someone had even leaked to the press that another book was in the works. Works being the key word, Meredith thought ruefully. The book couldn’t be finished just yet. There was still some specific research she needed desperately. Field research. The kind only actual, live contact could provide. The precise sort of contact that she preferred to avoid at all costs.

But the attention focused on her at the moment had killed any possibility of her going through an outside clinic or paying individuals to perform the study. It would be like trying to protect the jury from the media in a high-profile case, influencing any results she might gather. Documenting the impulses of single men and women acting upon their basic sexual instincts wouldn’t be accurate if one approached it with any preconceived notions. Meredith would be hard pressed now to find anyone in this country who knew nothing about her studies. Complete objectivity was a must.

She licked her ruby-red lips and swallowed, hating the taste of the lipstick. She would just have to do it herself. The woman in the mirror blinked, uncertain. Meredith squared her bare shoulders. She could do it. She was a professional, after all. There was absolutely no reason why she couldn’t be completely objective. Besides, she did feel a little better... perhaps even a little wicked in this little costume. She turned to view her profile. Maybe she could do this.

“Okay,” Shelley said, jerking Meredith from her unsettling thoughts. “We need a new name for your new image.”

Meredith frowned. “What?”

Shelley huffed. “Geez, Meredith, you can’t go out there and introduce yourself to the guys as Dr. Meredith Langston, now can you? Sounds awfully stuffy.”

“Oh,” Meredith said distractedly. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She certainly didn’t want anyone to recognize her, hence the new image. Unfortunately she hadn’t considered that the necessary interaction would require that she introduce herself to her... research.

“I’ve got it,” Shelley announced, her eyes wide with excitement. “Merri Lang.”

Meredith frowned again. She said the name aloud once or twice.

“You see, it’s similar enough to your real name that it won’t be jarring to you, yet it’s different enough that no one could possibly make the connection.” Shelley patted Meredith’s arm. “You’re not in Manhattan now; you’re on my turf. Nobody in Atlanta knows you except me anyway.” She assessed her friend’s reflection once more. “Besides, no one—not even your own mother—will ever recognize you tonight. Especially if they’re going by that less than flattering publicity photo in your book.”