Finding the Right Girl (A Nice GUY to Love spin-off) (23 page)

He reached out and unzipped her jacket, divesting her of the garment and hanging it on a hook by the door. Turning back to her, he said slowly, “Nope. You don’t. That’s why I want to fuck you.”

Emily gasped, his blatant words and heated appraisal making her flush. “Well, I don’t know Evan and I don’t want to do
that.
”
Liar. Liar.
She so
did
want to do
that
, but she wasn’t about to admit it when he’d just insulted her. Besides, she didn’t do casual sex. “I’m Emily Ashworth and I’m the director of the Youth Center of Amesport. I wanted to talk to you about a possible donation.”

She shuddered as his intense, molten gaze swept over her body and back to her face, staring at her with a look so smoldering and hungry that her core clenched in response.

“You’re cold,” he said abruptly, taking her frozen hand in his and leading her through the living room, down the hallway and into a cheery kitchen. “Sit,” he demanded huskily as he dropped her hand, halting at the kitchen table.

Emily sat, so confused that she was unable to make herself do anything else. She watched silently as Grady Sinclair moved around the kitchen, his large body maneuvering with a fluidity of motion that shouldn’t be possible for a man as large and muscular as he was. Watching him from behind was almost mesmerizing. She was jealous of the denim that was cupping an ass so tight that she could see the flex of muscle beneath the seat of his jeans as he moved, and it was a view she couldn’t bring herself to look away from for some time. Finally, ripping her gaze from him, she let her eyes wander around the kitchen—a bright, airy room with beautiful granite countertops and polished wood floors. Beyond, there was a dining room with a formal, polished wood table, but the room was dim, sparsely furnished, and looked seldom used.

He sauntered to the kitchen table moments later and pushed a mug in front of her, sitting down next to her with his own cup in hand. Emily placed her cold fingers around the mug, sighing as she inhaled the hot, fragrant brew. It was a hot apple cider, and she took a long sip, the warm liquid instantly starting to warm her. “Thank you,” she told him quietly as she set her mug back on the table. “So will you consider it?”

“Why?” he questioned darkly, his heated gaze spearing her as she squirmed uncomfortably in her chair.

“The Center needs money.”

“Why?” he asked again, lifting a brow as he sipped his drink, his eyes never leaving her.

He knows I’m desperate, that there’s a reason I’m here so late asking for money.

“A man I was dating stole the operating money from the Center and we can’t keep running without a significant donation,” she admitted, wondering why she was feeling the need to be completely honest with him.

Starting hesitantly, she spilled the entire story about the money being stolen as Grady watched her, his expression unreadable as he listened. “So would you be willing to help?” she asked nervously as she finished her story.

He was silent, his expression contemplative as he continued to look at her. Intense minutes passed before he finally answered, “I might be willing to consider it. But I’d want something in return.”

She picked up her mug and took another sip of cider, swallowing awkwardly before she spoke again. “What? I’ll do whatever I can to get you what you want.” The whole future of Amesport depended on his answer. Emily knew she had nowhere else to go and no other solution.

“That’s good, because you’re the only one who can get it for me,” he agreed casually. “Because what I really want is
you
.”

Emily nearly choked, sputtering as she swallowed. Dear God, maybe Grady Sinclair
was
the Amesport Beast after all. “I need to give the town of Amesport a Christmas, they need the Center to stay open, and I’ll do anything to keep from disappointing the kids there, but I’m not sleeping with you to do it,” she told him indignantly.

“We don’t need to sleep,” Grady replied gruffly. “And I hate Christmas.”

A
BOUT
T
HE
A
UTHOR

New York Times & USA Today bestselling author Violet Duke is a former professor of English Education who is ecstatic to now be on the other side of the page writing wickedly fun contemporary romance novels. When she's not arguing with her story characters or feeding her book-a-day reading addiction, she enjoys tackling reno projects with her power tools while trying pretty much anything without reading the directions first and cooking 'special edition' dishes that laugh in the face of recipes. Violet lives in Hawai'i with her two cute kids and similarly adorable husband.

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VIOLET DUKE is the pen name of Nina Nakayama, lovingly chosen in honor of her two adorably wacky kids. Nina blames her lifelong addiction to reading on the public library she all but lived in as a kid. Now decades later, she's still a bonafide book junkie with a book-a-day habit she can't kick and nightly reading-by-flashlight binges. You could say that reading was her gateway obsession, with writing being its natural progression. And she couldn't be happier for it. She gets to scramble after a bunch of untamed story characters in her head for a living, without the fear of men in white coats and butterfly nets coming after her—not for those reasons anyway.Like the heroines in her novels, Nina has had her fair share of ups and downs in life...along with a quirky happily-ever-after she couldn't have written better herself. Her dream house on O‘ahu is one that some crazy builder let her draw up the plans for via an old bargain bin architecture software readable only on WinXP or older. And the hero of her romantic tale is a guy who, after getting her number from her former student, tricked her into nightly marathon phone calls while she’d been trying to focus on her doctoral dissertation. She ended up falling in love with the sneaky man within weeks—before ever meeting him in person—and marrying him a few months later. Now, whenever folks ask what inspired (possessed) her to one day put a pin in her career as an English Ed professor to pursue her dreams of becoming a romance author, she smiles and points an accusatory thumb at him.