How To Host A Seduction. Jeanie London

      Rule number one of Ellen’s sound business strategies: A strong offense was more effective than a strong defense.

      “The real question here is, why did your great-aunt feel compelled to set me up with a man at all?”

      “You’ll have to ask Auntie Q yourself. I can’t speak for her, and trying to second-guess her is always risky business.”

      Truer words had never been spoken. Lennon’s diminutive great-aunt, the woman Ellen had come to know as Miss Q, was definitely an odd duck. A woman who believed in passion and crusaded for everyone else to believe, too. Ellen might have smiled if the memory of him hadn’t been quite so fresh.

      “Christopher Sinclair is a romance hero incarnate,” Lennon said. “And he was perfect for you. Executive-level management. A talented businessman who’s sharp enough to appreciate a strong independent woman without being pushed around or intimidated. He’s from a respectable Southern family. Not to mention that he’s financially successful enough to keep up with your rather upscale interests.”

      Ellen arched a skeptical brow. Okay, so it was no secret she preferred slumber parties at the Plaza Hotel to those in tents, art painted on canvas as opposed to lithographs, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was an expensive date….

      “I also happen to know Christopher isn’t the kind of man to fawn or cling or crowd you, and he’s absolutely gorgeous,” Lennon continued. “His parents loved you, and not only did your family approve of him, Ellen, they liked him. Your mom told me so.”

      Yes, her family had liked him, which had translated into awkward explanations. She wouldn’t share her real reason for breaking up with him and have them question her judgment, again.

      “So what happened?” Lennon was saying. “I’m not buying that lame excuse you gave me. I’ve waited to hear the truth in person because I care about you, but be forewarned, Auntie Q wants answers, so you’d better have them handy. You’ll be a captive audience during this murder-mystery training. Think four days and five nights in an antebellum plantation with no escape.”

      There usually wasn’t any escape when it came to Miss Q. Not even her own great-niece had managed to outrun the little schemer’s matchmaking. Her efforts to bring Lennon and her new husband together could have made a RAVE-winning book.

      “It’s old news now. We dated…”

      Three months where he could make me tingle with the slightest touch…and that one red-hot night.

      “…and realized we were heading in opposite directions. We have different goals…”

      Marriage? After three months? Was the man crazy?

      “…so we went our separate ways.”

      I ran screaming because he wouldn’t play by the rules.

      A lifetime of dealing with the high-profile baggage she brought to a relationship had taught her the hard way to be careful. She’d learned to walk the straight and narrow. And to force her creative brain into remembering the rules, she’d devised a method of making lists just to keep them straight in her head.

      Her latest rule for survival: No dating impulsive men.

      Lennon frowned as though she wasn’t quite buying this explanation. “What do you mean ‘opposite goals’?”

      “He wanted to get married.”

      Lennon dissolved before her very eyes into one of those melting oh-how-romantic expressions Ellen was very familiar with after eight years of working with romance authors.

      “And you turned him down?”

      “Of course I turned him down, Lennon. Honestly.”

      “But why? You were crazy about him.”

      That was before she’d found out he was crazy. “Listen, Lennon, he’s past history and I’m looking to the future.” Plastering her smile back on, Ellen tried to look reassuring. Her cheeks stretched. Her jaw creaked. “I’m waiting to meet the one, and when I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

      “The one?”

      “The man who’ll love me for who I am, with no questions. The man who’ll respect my situation enough to play by my rules.”

      Lennon looked thoughtful. “Unconditional love. Are you sure you believe that exists?”

      “Of course. I couldn’t edit romances if I didn’t. But I’m not going to sit around waiting for it to happen. I’ve got things to accomplish and goals to reach. Worrying about whether or not a man fits into the equation is simply not something I’ll do. If I meet the one, so be it. If not, well, so be it.”

      “You’re sure Christopher isn’t the one?”

      “Completely.”

      “What convinced you?” Lennon insisted. “A man that intense and that gorgeous has to be amazing in bed.”

      “I am not sharing the details of my sex life, so don’t bother badgering me. You and Miss Q might discuss how much and how good over dinner, but I prefer to keep my sex life private, thank you. That’s the second rule of the Talbot family code of conduct—no discussing sex at the dinner table.”

      “Note to self—” Lennon grimaced “—have a handy excuse to decline the next Talbot family dinner invitation. Just out of curiosity, what’s the first rule?”

      Ellen patted her purse. “Always be accessible, which means the cell phone stays on.”

      Talbot family code of conduct rule number four: Don’t pry. Ellen could almost hear her mother explaining, Prying shows a decided lack of manners, and unless you’re interested in answering similarly private questions…

      She wasn’t.

      Unfortunately, Lennon wasn’t versed on Talbot family code of conduct rule number four. She sighed so heavily that Ellen knew she was in for a lecture about making time to have fun. Another conversation they’d had before.

      She switched gears, fast. “I will tell you it’ll be a frosty Friday before I involve myself with another impulsive man.”

      Lennon set her mug down on the table with a thunk, leaned back in her chair and smiled. And kept smiling.

      “What’s so funny?”

      “Finally.” She made a visible effort to curb her amusement, though not much of one, judging by her smothered laughter. “You are the most stubborn person I know.”

      “I’m not stubborn. I just like stability and constants. He’s an adrenaline junkie who lives life to test fate. The press would have a field day, and that wouldn’t be fair to him. Or me, for that matter. I can’t handle living my life worrying about what sort of stunt he’s going to pull next and what the fallout will be. Marriage! We’d only dated three months.”

      “I accepted Josh’s marriage proposal after three days.”

      “Your decisions aren’t subject to public scrutiny. If I accept a marriage proposal after three days or even three months, my mother’s parenting skills come under fire. Her party spins my acceptance to mean she raised a confident daughter. The opposing party spins it to mean she has no control over her wild child. I prefer not to start the debate. I don’t enjoy the spotlight in my face, and the media loves writing about guys who flaunt the rules.”

      “Christopher is one of the neighborhood kids, Ellen. I’ve known him since I was ten years old.”

      She might have laughed at Lennon’s casual description of “neighborhood kids,” which brought to mind a motley gang riding bikes or playing ice hockey on frozen ponds in the winter. But like Ellen’s own, Lennon’s upbringing hadn’t exactly been traditional. She’d been raised in the exclusive Garden District of New Orleans, where kids lived in mansions and toured the continent during summer breaks.

      “What’s