The One Who Got Away. Jo Leigh

      Ben tugged her zipper open with his teeth

      Taylor thought she had died and gone to heaven. It was unbelievably erotic to have him on the floor in front of her, knowing he could touch her anywhere, do anything. He kissed her right below her belly button, and she whimpered in pure surrender.

      “Oh, God,” he whispered, just before he licked the expanse of flesh above her lace panties.

      Oh, no. The thought of where he was going, what he was going to lick next, made her hot. She wanted him to hurry, to rip off the rest of her clothes and throw her on the bed.

      Restlessly she put her hands on his head and ran her fingers through his dark hair. “Stand up, please.”

      Ben looked up and smiled. “Are you sure?” At her nod, he got up from his knees, kissed her hard. Let his body lean against her and she felt his erection through his soft jeans.

      He gazed at her. “Why did we wait so long?”

      She laughed. “We just got here last night.”

      “Ten years,” he said. “I missed too much.”

      Her hand went to his face where she traced his lips. “I’m here now. And we definitely need to make up for lost time….”

      Dear Reader,

      Oh, what a special book this is to me! The story, while fictional, is based in part on something that happened to me….

      Twenty-five years ago (argh!) I met the man of my dreams. He was everything I ever wanted in a guy. Only, the romance ended after a few years. Ended badly. But I never did get over him. He was The One Who Got Away, and it took me a long time to make peace with the fact that I’d never meet a man who could compare.

      Flash forward twenty years, and bless the Internet. Because guess who found me? You got it. The One! We talked, and talked…and three months later, we moved in together. He’s no longer the one who got away, but he’s still The One!

      So that’s how Taylor and Ben came about. Although the details are different, the incredible gift of finding (and keeping!) a lost love are just the same.

      Affectionately yours,

      Jo Leigh

      The One Who Got Away

      Jo Leigh

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To Lawrence: The One Who (Almost) Got Away!

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Prologue

      To: The Gang at Eve’s Apple

      From Taylor

      EvesApple.com

      Subject: BEN!!!!!

      If you’re looking for something soft, you won’t find it in Ben’s face. Not at first.

      He is all hard lines and sharp angles. The cheekbones, of course. The stuff of dreams. Improbable. Dangerous. Unforgettable. The cheekbones make you look at his eyes, give you no choice. They’re dark and knowing. Too knowing. Which makes you look away, but not for long. The focus shifts to his lips. The upper is thin, but there. The pouty lower makes up for it. And when the corners of his lips curve up in that slight smile, when those eyes take you in from the toes up, when he flicks his dark, straight, too-long hair back with a hand, there’s nothing to do but surrender. Give it up. Lie down, whether you’re near a bed or not.

      That’s Ben. My first lover. My best lover. Might as well have been my only lover. Because it’s been ten years, and I can’t get that face out of my head.

      Every man I’ve dated, from that gorgeous Richard Gere-like attorney to that race-car driver from Atlanta has failed the Ben Test. Not that I even realized there was such a thing, but now that I know I’m going to see Ben again, I finally get it. I see what he’s done to me.

      So, my fellow Eve’s Apple Compatriots, my sisters in righteous conquests who seek the perfect Men To Do before we say I Do…I hereby declare that Ben Bowman, the man of the exquisite cheekbones, of the mesmerizing dark eyes, is my official MAN TO DO.

      I, Taylor Hanson, am going to spend one week with the aforementioned Mr. Bowman, in, appropriately enough, Las Vegas, Sin City, while attending my brother’s wedding. I will, without fail, get Ben “Cheekbones” Bowman into my bed, and then I will see, with my very own eyes, that regardless of cheekbones, of knowing eyes, and wicked smiles, Bowman is just a guy. Like a bunch of other guys. Not a God, not an icon, not the King of the Stud Muffins.

      I was only eighteen.

      And then, my dear friends, I will come home, and I SHALL BE FREE to find my Mr. Right. My forever guy. Because I will have broken the spell. Damn it.

      Love and Kisses,

      Taylor

      1

      ONLY IN VEGAS.

      Ben watched the crowd standing in front of the Wheel of Fortune slot machine as he made his way through the airline terminal toward the baggage claim area. Breathless with anticipation, a dozen or so tourists watched the spinning wheel as it slowed, coming to a shaky stop under the bold 20. A collective groan marked their disappointment, and Ben marveled again at the gullibility of humans.

      All anyone needed to do was take one look at the Strip to see that Vegas wasn’t in the business of giving away money. But most of the good folk who came to Vegas didn’t stop to think about the odds. They came for magic. For the turn of the wheel, the flip of a card that would free them from the daily grind of working for a living. They wanted the dream and no place on earth knew how to sell the dream better.

      Not that Ben didn’t mind a friendly game of poker now and then, but he had no illusions about windfalls or magic. He believed in hard work and persistence. If luck ever entered the picture it was because he’d made sure to be in the right place at the right time.

      He passed the shops selling overpriced leather jackets, gaudy trinkets and T-shirts, finally arriving at the escalator that would take him down to his the baggage claim area.

      As was his wont, he’d checked in at the last possible moment, assuring that his luggage would be some of the first out of the plane. In fact, this time his bag was the very first. A few minutes later, he was in a cab on his way to the Hard Rock Hotel.

      He stared at the vision that was Las Vegas as the cab made its way along Paradise Road. How appropriate. The Hard Rock wasn’t on the Strip per se, but two blocks east. Still it managed to be the hippest of the big hotels. He’d never stayed there,