Tempting Taylor

Beverly
Havlir

Taylor’s dating life is a train
wreck. It always starts off well enough, but by date five the first rush of
hormones disappears and all that’s left is a man who is, in a word,
disappointing. Forget dating, what Taylor needs is a no-strings-attached bed
buddy she can ditch when she finally finds a man who measures up.

Cooper is handsome, intelligent and
anything but disappointing. Best of all, he’d be more than happy to apply for
the job of Taylor’s bed buddy. Too bad he’s got the one strike against him
Taylor can’t overlook—she’s so attracted to the man she can’t see straight. The
way Cooper touches her, kisses her, is sexy as hell. Their chemistry is nothing
short of incendiary. Taylor knows she’d better run, not walk, from his firm
hands and hot promises because if there’s one thing she’s learned about Cooper,
it’s that what the man wants, he gets.

A
Romantica®
contemporary erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

“Sorry I’m late.” Taylor Sanders gave Emily Sinclair a hug
and grabbed one of the coffee cups on top of the counter and took a sip. She
sighed with pleasure. “Yum.” Once a week, she and her best friend met up at
their favorite coffee shop for coffee and muffins before heading to work. She
stuck out her leg, swinging a foot encased in a sling-back, black high-heeled
stiletto. “You like?”

“New? Very pretty.” Emily’s eyebrow rose at the sight of the
designer red sole. “Expensive too. Uh-oh. This can only mean one thing. You
broke up with Dave.”

With a sigh, Taylor popped her sunglasses back down to
shield her eyes as they emerged in the warm Boston sunshine. “I know it’s a bad
habit to shop for new shoes when a relationship fizzles, but it cheers me up,
you know?” Truthfully, relationship was a strong word to define the mess that
was her dating life.

“You’ve bought a lot of new shoes lately.”

Taylor swung her purse over her shoulder. “Don’t I know it?
It’s the five-date rule again, Em. It’s killing me.”

They crossed the street and headed toward the glass building
that housed Aegis Inc., the corporation that owned their e-zine,
The Girl
Next Door.

“What, again? But you had a feeling that Dave was going to
work out.”

“Yup. Time and time again, my theory is proven. I can’t go
beyond five dates. After that, it’s kaput. Finis. Done.”

Amusement flickered in Emily’s eyes. “Tell me again what’s
so special with the fifth date?”

Taylor sipped her coffee. A light breeze ruffled her hair.
It was an amazing morning, and it was going to be a beautiful day. Too bad her
dating life wasn’t quite as sunny and cheerful. “In my experience, five is the
magic number. Or the doomsday number, if you will,” she said with a wince.
“It’s like a train wreck. I know what’s going to happen on date number five and
I’m helpless to stop it.”

“Okay, let’s hear it. Why five?”

“Date number one is getting to know each other,” Taylor
explained. “It’s like feeling each other out, trying to see if you have
anything in common. Do we both like the same kind of movies, music and stuff
like that. And to see if he does little things that turn me off. You know, like
does he chew loudly, or eat with his mouth open, or bore the hell out of me?”

Emily snickered. “You’re such a nut. What’s number two?”

“Number two is deciding if he has enough good points to get
a third date.”

“You know, Taylor, this is a testament to how busy your
dating life is that you have a five-date rule. Other women would just be happy
to get a date.”

With a hand on her hip, Taylor stopped walking and stared at
Emily. “Do you want to hear the rest or not?”

Chucking softly, Emily nodded. “Go on.”

“Date number three? To see if there are sparks.”

“If there aren’t any, he doesn’t get date number four?”

“Of course not. By date number three, I’ve decided if I want
to let this guy kiss me, if I’m physically attracted to him.”

“Wait,” Emily interrupted with a frown, “shouldn’t you know
that by date number one at least? I mean, would you go out with a guy you
weren’t physically attracted to?”

Taylor waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve gone out with enough
guys to know that the initial physical attraction doesn’t mean a thing. It
fades quickly, let me tell you. I mean, I’ve had the hot and heavy beginning,
only to be turned off by the second date.”

“I bow to your superior knowledge of men,” Emily agreed
solemnly.

“To continue, before I was so rudely interrupted, I no
longer rely on the initial rush of hormones. I’ve learned to temper my…er…libido.”

Emily laughed.

“I’m serious. By date number five, I’ve decided if I want to
sleep with a guy or not. And more often than not, I don’t.”

“Tay, honey, it’s not like there’s a lack of men in your
life. You always inevitably move on to the next one.”

“But the quality is sadly lacking,” Taylor lamented. “Why
can’t I find my Devlin?”

At the mention of her fiancé’s name, Emily’s smile softened.
“Because he’s one in a million. And he’s mine.”

It was Taylor’s turn to chuckle. “He’s all yours, all right.
I don’t think that man will ever look at another woman but you.” She sobered.
“I want that for me too.”

Emily gave her a brief hug. “You’ll find the right guy. I
believe that.”

“Not if I can’t even last beyond five dates,” Taylor replied
glumly.

“You have to find Mr. Right. Not Mr. Right Now. Ever since
I’ve known you, you’ve had no trouble attracting the opposite sex.”

“If that’s the case, why are they all duds?”

“Not all of them are.”

“Most of them are,” she countered. “I just want to find a
normal, attractive man who is confident, not a serial womanizer and will pass
the five-date test.”

“You’re going to have to trash that five-date test
nonsense.”

“It is not nonsense.”

“Someday you’re going to find a man who’s going to debunk
your five-date theory and blow it all to bits. And then what are you going to
do?”

Taylor rolled her eyes. “I have yet to come across a man who
can disprove my theory and get me beyond five dates.” She stared at her shoes.
“That’s why I love shoes. They cheer me up. They make me look good, and
therefore, make me feel good. They never disappoint.” She glanced over her
shoulder and grinned. “High heels make my butt look amazing.”

Emily pulled a face. “You don’t need any more help in that
department.”

She shook her head and brushed some lint off her slim skirt.
“You’re only saying that because you’re my best friend.” They came to a halt in
front of the imposing entrance to the building.

A black Mercedes Benz came to a smooth halt at the curb. A
tall, dark-haired man climbed out of the driver side and Marcus, the doorman,
immediately went to him and took his keys. Cooper Hathaway. As always, just the
sight of Cooper was enough to trip Taylor’s pulse. He was the epitome of tall,
dark and handsome. No, handsome was too bland a word to describe Cooper. Hot
was more apt. Smoldering. Sexy. Mouthwatering even. She could go on and on.

Emily grabbed Taylor’s arm. “Haven’t you been trying to
schedule a meeting with him for a couple of weeks now?”

Taylor’s eyes widened. “Do I dare ambush him right now?”

“Why not? This is the perfect opportunity to talk to him.
He’s alone.”

She’d been trying to finagle an interview with Cooper, but
it had proven difficult. The man had rebuffed her repeated requests to meet
with him and his secretary guarded his schedule like it was a state secret.
This was her chance. “You’re right.”

“Damn straight.” Emily grinned. “Now go before he walks away
and you lose your chance. Hurry.”

Without letting herself think about it, Taylor walked as
fast as she could in her heels, waving back at Emily’s proffered, “Don’t trip
in those shoes!”

Cooper Hathaway stopped at the sight of the stunning woman
rushing toward him. His gaze traveled from her dainty feet encased in strappy
high-heels that screamed sexy and sultry, up shapely legs, past the knee-length
black skirt and silk top. Her red-gold hair glinted in the sunlight, long,
loose curls swinging halfway down to her waist. As always, when he caught sight
of Taylor Sanders, every single cell in his body went on alert. His cock, especially,
was instantly awake. Ready for action.

Fuck me.

He wiped all expression from his face and hoped he wasn’t
drooling. Taylor Sanders was dangerous, very dangerous. Large dark-green eyes
and full, pouty lips that brought to mind fantasies of them wrapped around his
cock in a long, slow suck. Christ. She was unbelievably beautiful. Eminently
fuckable. Every time he looked at her he imagined having her under him, over
him, sideways, on the bed, against the wall, on the couch, hell, even on a
table. He knew she’d been calling his office, requesting an appointment, and
he’d been dodging her calls. Why? Because he was trying to keep his dick in his
pants. It had been a long, long time since a woman had affected him this way.
Women came easy for him. He didn’t lack for companionship. When he needed a
woman, one was there. He didn’t have the time nor the inclination for a
relationship. Sex was all he was after. Sex was all he offered. The women he’d
been with knew that from the start. No false promises. No pretenses. Sex was a
need he fulfilled. That was it.

Taylor was different. He was attracted to her. Damn it. More
than attracted. He salivated every time he looked at her. His dick was
enamored, enraptured and always alert and at attention whenever he caught a glimpse
of her. Thinking about her, which he often did, made his cock stiff. He would
never admit it to anybody, but every day he was on the lookout for her. To see
if she was really as beautiful in reality or if his brain was seriously
damaged. But every day was the same. She was just as hot, just as sexy and he
wanted her more.

She was the type of woman to be wined and dined, to be
courted and handled delicately. She would go for a man with soft hands, a
country club membership and a lineage that went back to the
Mayflower
.

She had relationship written all over her—something he
didn’t have time for. Acquiring Hathaway Publishing and dealing with the
ridiculous lawsuit his stepmother brought against him had left little free
time. He’d been consumed by the need to take back the company that his
mother—who had died of a lingering incurable illness when he was ten—had loved.

The object of his lust—morning, noon and night. She was
slightly out of breath and still looked ridiculously hot. Up close, she was
even lovelier, her skin smooth and flawless. Her lips were full, a bit wide,
but added just enough to make her centerfold worthy. It didn’t take much to
imagine her naked, spread like a feast in front of him, ready to be devoured.
Ready to be fucked. Taylor had a body made for sex. Not the clean, vanilla
kind. The hot, dirty kind. His balls tightened.
Shit.

Cooper unconsciously steeled himself as she came to a stop
in front of him. He was losing his mind.

Taylor was a tad breathless when she drew up alongside Cooper.
She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. “Mr. Hathaway.”

Cooper fixed cool gray eyes on her. “Taylor.”

She blinked. His gaze was direct and unwavering. Unnerving
as well. This close she could see that there was a darker ring around the gray
of his eyes. When he focused on her, she felt like they were the only two
people in the busy lobby. Self-conscious, she licked her lips and took a deep
breath. God he was tall. Even in her high-heels, he still towered over her.
What was he, six-three, six-four? He was dressed in a custom-made, perfectly
fitting suit, with a light blue shirt that stretched across his impressive
chest and a silk tie knotted expertly at his throat. His suit screamed
designer, as was the classy Rolex he wore on his wrist. He looked like he just
stepped out of a men’s magazine photo shoot. His face was angular and
masculine, his lips unsmiling, his expression a bit austere. His dark hair was
short and neatly combed. He looked exactly like what he was, a very successful
businessman.

He would be totally devastating when he smiled.

Pull it together, girl.

He resumed walking when she didn’t respond.

She flushed. Quickening her stride to keep up with him, she
noted how people gave way to let him pass. She smiled, determined to charm the
man. “It’s very hard to get a meeting with you. Mr. Hathaway—”

He abruptly stopped and turned to face her. “Cooper. I think
we moved beyond formalities the day you barged into my office when I took over
the company last year, don’t you?”

That was clearly in reference to the incident last year when
she’d stormed into his office after he’d just taken over Hathaway Publishing,
ready to rain fire and brimstone on him when she’d thought he was going to sell
the publishing company that owned
The Girl Next Door
.

He glanced at his watch. “You’ve been asking to speak with
me for quite some time now. This is your chance.”

“Yes, well. This isn’t exactly how I envisioned meeting with
you,” she began.

For a second, just a quick second, his gaze dropped to her
lips. Taylor blinked, unsure that it even happened. Warm and unsettled, she
resisted the urge to glance at a mirrored wall to make sure she looked neat and
that everything was in place. To do so would show that he unnerved her. She
pushed that feeling aside. “I want to interview you for the e-zine.”

“I don’t do interviews.”

She gave him a persuasive smile. “An in-depth article will
give the public a glimpse of the real you.”

“The PR department has a press packet. Use that.” He pressed
the call button to the elevator.

Determined not to be summarily dismissed and refusing to be
deflated by the flat denial, Taylor opened her mouth to continue when the
elevator doors slid open quietly and Cooper stepped inside. When Taylor didn’t
follow suit, he quirked an eyebrow.

She hesitated. Being in a closed, confined space with this
man would surely suck whatever oxygen was left in her brain. He flustered her,
for God’s sake. But then again, trying to get a few minutes of his time was
like pulling teeth. This was her chance, a golden opportunity to speak with
him. Alone. In an elevator. Without any interruptions. Dare she do it?

Straightening her spine, she stepped inside the elevator and
watched as the double doors closed, sealing them inside.

The sudden quiet and intimacy of their location struck her
at once. There were no barriers, no buffer between them. Cooper stared at her
across the width of the elevator without saying a word. Taylor wished the doors
would open and somebody—anybody—would get in and break the awful tension
building in the air. But the doors remained stubbornly closed.
Damn it.