Shopping for an Heir (19 page)

As she smoothed his skin, kissed his abs, slid her cheek along the thickening thatch of hair on his belly, he found himself dropping the bag, wondering why he ever needed to carry it at all.

Lighter now, carried off by the wind, he crashed into her and they traveled so high, where no one could see them, above the clouds, his body over hers, her legs around him again, his mouth on hers, the boundary between them gone.

Just air.

And then they closed that gap, too, until the only barrier left was one that only time could dissipate.

She came with a quiet sound of pleasure, her openness so sweet, his own finish one of excitement, their bodies well worn after spending the night together but his thirst for her unquenched. Suzanne was luminous, cheeks pink, eyes wide and searching.

“I love you.”

“I never stopped loving you,” he said, giving her a tiny piece of herself back, one he’d withheld from that bag of shards.

“Thank you.”

The light shining through the cream-colored sheets made her body take on a matte finish, her skin being played with by the light as if she were a toy for amusement. Rays and particles danced in concert to find the most beautiful arrangement of bisecting points and angles, lines and slope. Her body was a mathematical equation, a calculus problem to solve with his hands, his mouth, his body.

His heart and soul.

Computing the area under a curve required deep study.

Very
deep.

So deep you lost yourself.

And never wanted to find your way out.

“
I
can’t believe
it’s been eight weeks already,” Agnes complained. “And there aren’t any more classes for three weeks!”

“We need the holiday break, Agnes. People are busy shopping and visiting relatives,” Gerald explained for the umpteenth time. Suzanne helped to deliver new balls of clay to students, taking in the class.

“Tell that to my kids. Ungrateful little worms. I split myself open how many times, only to have them all move across the country. They don’t call.” As she watched, Suzanne marveled at the depths of the old lady’s cantankerous personality. When she was ninety-something, she wanted to be just like Agnes.

“You Facetime every day with your grandkids in Kentucky, Agnes,” her friend, Corrine, corrected. “And your grandson is in college in Boston. He’s at your house every weekend.” Corrine looked like one of those young women who guest-starred on that old ‘70s show,
The Love Boat
. A blonde model/actress known only for a few years back then. Suzanne had watched the show with her grandparents on cable, and she struggled to remember the name.

“That’s only because I bake cookies for him,” Agnes complained.

“I’m sure he visits to enjoy your sunny disposition,” Gerald said with a smile, giving Suzanne a wink. “And for your oregano.”

Agnes stuck her tongue out at him.

“That’s a wrap!” Gerald announced as Declan slipped into his robe, the class standing and applauding.

Declan took a bow, a sweeping gesture of unbridled arrogance that made Gerald burst into hearty laughter.

If you’ve got it, flaunt it.

“Encore, encore!” Lindi shouted, her dutiful menopause fan whirring away.

Declan whipped off the bathrobe.

Women swooned.

Including Suzanne.

Gerald walked across the room and placed his hand over her eyes.

“Hey!”

“You don’t need to look at that.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve got a better view for you at home tonight.”

“Better than that?” The room had turned into whistles and sighs.

“Absolutely.”

“You’ll need to have something mighty special up your sleeve to top that.”

“I can top
you
.”

“That just sounded wrong, Gerald.”

He shrugged. “Blame Andrew McCormick. The guy has some of the worst pick-up lines you could ever imagine.”

She shuddered. “Oh, I can imagine.”

“He tried to date you, didn’t he?”

“How did you know? I mean, he’s a nice guy, but totally not my type.”

Wincing, Gerald gave her a look. “Of course he isn’t. And Declan told me.”

“WHAT? When?”

“When we were playing pool that first night you crashed my class.”

“Was that really just eight weeks ago?”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “It was.”

“Did he bring it up on
your
shot?”

“As a matter of fact, he did.”

“Who’s the
real
pool shark?”

A string of students slowly made their way out of class, stopping to give him a hug or shake his hand. Stacy helped the women with their projects, many of which were perfectly reasonable for brand-new sculpting students. A few stood out.

“Does Declan go by the nickname ‘tripod’?” Agnes asked as she eyed Lindi’s sculpture.

“AGNES!” Gerald scolded.

She smirked. “See you in three weeks, Mr. Clean!”

Suzanne rubbed his head.

“You know I hate that.”

“Then grow it out.”

“I hate having hair. Lifting is so much harder.”

“Please? For me?”

“Really? Why?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“No need. I’ll do it. But I have to warn you—there’s got to be a ton of grey in there.”

“Grey? You’re not old enough for grey!”

“Did you get your first grey pube yet?” Corrine asked with that cheerful tone that belied her inappropriateness. “Because once you find one, they’re like termites. The colony is already there, just buried where you can’t see it.”

“BALLS!” Declan declared, coming out of the dressing room and clapping his hands once for emphasis. “Time to play.”

Three eager women turned around, offering themselves silently for whatever he was talking about.

“Pool, ladies,” Gerald said, motioning for them to leave. “We’re playing pool.”

“And not pocket pool!” Agnes croaked out from the hall.

“Marie invited you to her yoga class, didn’t she? Offered you all the free classes you want?” he asked Gerald, eyeing Corrine’s back as she left as if he were tracking her as a dangerous subject.

“Yes.” Gerald and Suzanne shared a confused look.

“Don’t do it. It’s a trap.”

“How bad could it be?”

“We can talk about your mother-in-law’s yoga class or we can get down to playing with balls,” Suzanne declared. “Which is it?”

“Can you lock up, Stacy?” Gerald asked, tossing her the keys to the building. Suzanne knew there were other volunteers in the building who would help.

The teen was ecstatic to be given such a heavy responsibility. “Sure, Gerald! Thanks!”

Five minutes later, at the bar, Suzanne brought back drinks while Gerald glared at Declan.

“Ready?” Declan asked.

Gerald’s eyes narrowed as he watched Declan rack the balls. Suzanne held back a snicker, knowing what was coming.

“Yeah. Double or nothing, Mr. Matchmaker.”

Laughter poured out of Declan. “You figured it out?”

“Your father told us.”

“I thought you needed to see her.” Suzanne arched one eyebrow at the guy, but stayed quiet.

“Okay, Marie.”

“That’s a nasty, low blow,” Declan hissed, deferring to Gerald with a gesture that said he could take the first break shot.

“So’s interfering with my love life.”

“Blame Shannon.”

“Shannon?”

“Yes?” To Suzanne’s surprise, a young woman stepped from behind Declan, her hands on his shoulders as she planted a kiss on the back of his neck. She had to stand on tiptoes to do it.

Declan spun around and kissed her on the lips. “Shannon! What are you doing here? I thought you were still out of town.”

“I tried to make it in time to see you showing off your dangly bits—”

“My bits do not
dangle
. They hang gracefully. They’re so graceful because they are
well hung
.”

“Mmm hmm.” Shannon did not look convinced. The smile she shot Gerald was genuine. “Hey, you! I’ve missed you.”

As he gave her a big hug, she giggled, catching Suzanne’s eye.

“You get used to seeing someone most days, and then they’re gone. You must not miss some of the crazy errands we sent you on, though.”

“Errands?” Suzanne asked, putting a possessive arm around Gerald’s waist as she finished her first beer.

“Suzanne, this is Shannon McCormick. Shannon, meet Suzanne Dayton.” The two shook hands, though Suzanne kept her fingertips on Gerald’s back.

“I’ve heard your name before, but we’ve never met,” Shannon said to Suzanne. “Declan filled me in on your story. Small world,” she said, eyes twinkling.

“Very small,” Gerald said. “Matchmaker.”

“I just suggested.” She looked as disingenuous as she sounded.

As Suzanne watched her boyfriend chat with his old boss’s wife, a glow of contentment filled her. Or maybe it was the beer.

Didn’t matter.

“Hey,” Gerald whispered in Suzanne’s ear. “How about we go over to my place tonight and you pose for me?”

“Pose?” She played coy. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I need a nude model.”

She pointed to Declan. “You have one.”

He squeezed her ass. “I need you.”

“You’ve got me.”

“Can you sit very, very still for long periods of time while I memorize your naked body?”

“It’ll take a lot of training on my part,” she said in a sultry voice. “Might take many, many hours. With hands-on lessons.”

“Hands-on, huh?”

“The only way to learn.”

L
ooking
for more Shopping series books? Try my newest series with co-author Elisa Reed, starting with book 1,
Our Options
Have Changed
, coming on October 5, 2016!

Not only will you start a new spinoff series featuring characters from the O Spa (who first appeared in
Shopping for a CEO
), but you get cameo appearances from Andrew McCormick and Amanda Warrick!

PLUS AN ALL NEW BONUS NOVELLA

Shopping for a Billionaire’s Honeymoon
appears as a bonus when you grab your copy of
Our Options Have Changed
, but only for the first week of publication, so pre-order NOW:

O
ur Options Have
Changed and bonus novella, Shopping for a Billionaire’s Honeymoon

A
nd then
….

Take a look at
Shopping for a Highlander
, the next book in the Shopping series, now!

Here’s the description:

I
’m a professional c
*&^blocker.

I get paid to follow a womanizing troglodyte who thinks rules are for other people and that my pants are the next pair he’s getting into.

Dream on.

Bet your first job out of college didn’t involve babysitting an extremely hot, muscle-bound Scottish Highlander with an ego the size of a kilt and a libido bigger than his…well…

Keeping football (that’s ‘soccer” to us Americans) player Hamish McCormick away from sex scandals while he does product endorsement campaigns is my mission.

No problem.

Until Hamish decides I’m his next scandal.

And maybe more….

S
hopping
for a Highlander
is a standalone in the New York Times bestselling Shopping for a Billionaire series by Julia Kent. You do not have to have read the previous books, though after you read about Amy and Hamish, you’ll want to. ;)

Shopping for a Highlander
is coming spring 2017. Join my
newsletter mailing list
or
Facebook page
to stay tuned for release dates.

S
hopping
for an Heir
is part of The Inheritance, a series about people who experience unexpected riches…in love.

Billionaire Harold Hopewell traveled the world, encountering people and letting their stories touch him. In death, he is giving back, leaving an unusual will filled with life-altering bequests to the people he met along the way. Read the Inheritance Series, and let their stories touch you.

Read the next book in the series:

T
ext JKentBooks
to 77948 and get a text message on release dates!

New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author Julia Kent turned to writing contemporary romance after deciding that life is too short not to have fun. She writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from
Random Acts of Crazy
, she has never kissed a chicken.

She loves to hear from her readers by email at [email protected], on Twitter @jkentauthor, and on Facebook at facebook.com/jkentauthor

Visit her website at http://jkentauthor.com

For more information, click on a link below.

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