Lethal Exposure. Lori Wilde

The plan was brilliant. Use public relations to turn the tables on the PR expert. Anticipation—and revenge—was a glorious dish to be savored.

      JULIE WAS SO NERVOUS she could scarcely breathe. She hadn’t been on a date since she’d sent Roger packing.

      It’s not a date, she told herself. It’s an interview in a public place. There will be lots of people around.

      Moistening her lips to quell her nervousness, Julie sat in her white Honda Civic outside the Sushi Palace a half mile from Confidential Rejuvenations. She was early. It was only eleven-forty but she’d been too keyed up to stay at home.

      Her shift started at two-thirty and she had her scrubs folded in the backseat, along with her pink nursing clogs and a pink stethoscope. It would have been more convenient to meet him already dressed in her scrub uniform, but Julie wanted Sebastian to see what she looked like in street clothes.

      She’d spent almost an hour getting ready. The entire time, she’d kept asking herself whether Sebastian Black was really the rebound guy she wanted after Roger. Or, if she was being honest with herself, could she admit he was really too much for her to handle?

      That was the question she was here to answer.

      After a phone consultation with Vanessa and Elle, she’d dressed sexily, but not too vampish, considering it was a luncheon date. Straight-legged black slacks, black zippered fashion boots with three-inch heels to give her five-foot-three stature a boost and a pink-and-white-striped angora sweater. She used her curling iron on her hair and it hung low down her back in soft, feminine ringlets.

      This was exactly what she needed—a temporary tryst with a man who knew his way around a woman’s body. A man who could take the lead and teach her what she needed to know.

      That was her secret. When it came to sex, she really didn’t know what she was doing. Failing her qualifying exam to become a sex therapist was proof enough of her inadequacies.

      Before Roger, she’d had only one other lover—her college biology professor, Phillip Gregory. She’d given him her virginity and he’d given her an A-plus for the semester and then he’d dumped her. Phillip had broken her nineteen-year-old heart and damaged her self-esteem, but she’d never stopped looking for love.

      Now, she was almost thirty years old and she could count on both hands the number of times she’d had sex. Three times with Phillip. Seven times with Roger.

      Pathetic.

      It was this damned starry-eyed romanticism instilled in her by her mother. The promise of happily-ever-after. The dream of the one perfect guy who made your life complete. Her mother had believed it and look where it had gotten her. Married to her soul mate, but then widowed at fifty-four with a teenage daughter to raise.

      Julie had to ask herself if that’s why she’d been attracted to both Roger and Phillip. Had she simply been searching for a father figure? Her dad had died when she was fourteen. Had her lovers represented the masculine guidance she’d lost and longed for?

      What a cliché.

      Julie peered at herself in the rearview mirror and was startled to see how sexy she looked. Her curls had defied the curling iron and resorted to their usual wild tumble, giving her a just-rolled-out-of-bed appearance. Suddenly, her lipstick seemed too red, her mascara too thickly applied, the V-neck of her sweater revealing too much cleavage.

      Well, that was the point, wasn’t it? To start something with Sebastian Black. Learn a few tricks. Push her sexual boundaries with a no-strings-attached affair? Get past the number Roger and Phillip had done on her self-confidence. Become more accomplished at lovemaking so she didn’t get so embarrassed in therapy sessions when the patients revealed their colorful romantic escapades.

      Nervously, she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. What was she doing here? What made her think Sebastian Black could cure her romanticism?

      A zippy red sports car pulled into the parking lot and she knew before she ever saw his face that Sebastian was behind the wheel. He killed the engine and hopped from the lowslung German-engineered automobile looking as if he’d stepped off the cover of People magazine. Tall, broad shouldered, lean hipped. Sexy as hell.

       You’re in over your head. This guy will eat you alive.

      It was, she had to admit, a very delicious thought.

      Sebastian clutched a black leather briefcase in his hand and he headed for the door of the restaurant with purposeful, ground-chewing strides. He wore a tailor-made gray business suit with a lavender shirt and an avant-garde grape-and-gold tie. Not many men could pull off lavender, but on him, it was a power color, accenting his tanned skin and dark, intelligent eyes. Modern young executive on the go.

      He was exquisite.

      And he was everything she’d trained herself not to want. Handsome beyond belief. Smooth as silk. The kind of guy you just knew would take your breath away and leave you gasping for oxygen. She’d always gone for substance over style. For older steady men who promised security.

       Yeah. And look where that got you.

      It was all she could do to keep from starting her car, driving away and thanking her lucky stars she’d escaped unscathed.

      But despite her alarm, something pushed her forward. Her craving for knowledge and sexual experimentation was stronger than her fear of getting hurt. She could do this. She could seduce him, enjoy him and keep the relationship strictly casual. He was only in town for a short time. He was perfect.

      She put her hand on the door handle, opened it and stepped out into the parking lot. Sebastian had already gone inside. Determined, she headed into the restaurant.

      The hostess, a pretty, dark-haired woman in a red kimono with green dragons imprinted into the silk fabric, greeted her in the foyer. “One for lunch?”

      “Actually,” she said, “I’m meeting someone.”

      Just then, Sebastian walked up behind the hostess. He’d been watching for her. His grin widened as if he’d just won the Powerball lottery. The eager expression on his face went a long way toward bolstering her courage and tamping down her fear.

      He made a low noise of masculine appreciation as he came closer. “Wow, check you out.”

      Slowly, he raked his gaze from the top of her head, down the low-cut V of her angora sweater, to the snug-fitting, straight-legged slacks to her high-heeled black stiletto boots and back again. The look was so intense, Julie gulped and folded her fingernails into her palms to steady her nerves.

      An electrical charge passed between them. A silent understanding. His dark eyes smoldered with a sexuality that stole her breath.

      He was unfairly handsome. No guy should look so good. It was annoying that every female in the place was darting surreptitious glances in his direction.

      To his credit, his focus was only on her. He made her feel special and that made her suspicious. Why was he trying so hard?

      Julie inhaled sharply, desperate for air.

      Sebastian extended his hand.

      The moment their palms touched the hostess disappeared. The restaurant ceased to exist. Time evaporated. She was aware of nothing except Sebastian. No man had ever looked at her in quite that way before.

       Oh, he’s good.

      He was very, very good at making her feel special. Julie told herself it was his job. He was a PR expert. It wasn’t personal. She would not let it go to her head.

      Old habits died hard. She was a natural-born romantic and going against her tendencies would not come easy.

      He dropped her hand at last and the spell was broken.

      She inhaled raggedly, her gaze still welded to his. Every hair on his head was in place. He wore his tailored suit as if it was an extension