Wickedly Hot. Leslie Kelly

      

      “Wh-what are you doing?” Jade asked, licking her lips

      Ryan unbuttoned his shorts and dropped them to the floor.

      “Oh, my God,” she whispered, reaching up to clutch her throat.

      “Nothing you haven’t seen before, is it, Jade? Though you didn’t stick around long enough to really see how you affected me last night.”

      She could see it now, though. Her whole face was flushed as she stared at him. All of him, including the erection he wasn’t trying to hide.

      He’d always assumed he was a normally built man. But the shocked hunger in her eyes told him he’d caught her off guard.

      “No, you’re right. I d-didn’t see you that well,” she stammered.

      He just stood in front of her, completely naked. Uncaring, not bothering even to pretend to be self-conscious.

      She looked as if she wanted to run. She looked as if she wanted to jump on him. She looked as if she needed someone to tell her what to do.

      So he did.

      “Take off your dress and get into the bed, Jade.”

      Dear Reader,

      I just love Southern cities. Though I was born in Virginia, I wasn’t really raised in the South. But I have always been intrigued by the rich culture, passion and romance of the region. One city in particular, Savannah, has always fascinated me. So when I decided to write a book about a sultry possible-thief, I couldn’t think of any better city to put her in than Savannah.

      Jade’s not like a lot of my heroines. She’s more self-confident, and a lot more mysterious. But I really liked exploring her quirky love of history, her legacy and ancestry, not to mention her wicked sense of revenge, which would allow her to tie a naked man to a statue…and leave him there.

      Hmm…enter naked man. Ryan Stoddard. Northern, conservative, professional. But since he also has vengeance on his mind, he’s more than up to the challenge of tackling Jade head-on. Handcuffs and all.

      Hope you enjoy my atmospheric little visit to this lovely Southern city. I enjoyed it so much I think I’ll return there in the future. In person. And in my books.

      Best wishes,

      Leslie Kelly

      Wickedly Hot

      Leslie Kelly

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To Karen and Lynn…thanks for helping me plot this one

       while we floated in my pool last summer.

      And to all the wonderful reviewers and Webmistresses

       who help support this genre, particularly Barb Hoeter,

       Barb Hicks, Carla Hosom, Blythe Barnhill, Kathy Boswell,

       Catherine Witmer, Cynthia Penn and Diana Tidlund.

       We couldn’t do this job without your

       support and enthusiasm.

      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

      Epilogue

      Prologue

      LYNNETTE GRAYSON HAD finally found the perfect woman for her grandson Ryan and she was utterly determined to bring them together. Whether he liked it or not.

      “Brunette, his favorite,” she murmured as she went over her checklist. “Intelligent, without question. Tall and slim, somewhat mysterious.” And, most of all, interesting.

      Ryan was altogether too comfortable, too spoiled, too at ease in his Manhattan apartment with his equally bored friends. He lived for his job with a high-stakes architecture firm, dated far too many women and cared for none of them.

      He needed someone to challenge him. “Someone to spice him up a bit,” Lynnette said, remembering the horridly cold creature Ryan had brought to dinner the last time his grandparents had come into the city.

      Her grandson wasn’t cold. That big, cold city might have made him forget he came from exciting, passionate, fascinating people who loved quickly and loved forever. Herself included, she had to admit with a smile. She’d led her husband, Edward, on a merry chase before marrying him, but she’d known he was the one from the first time he’d held her hand.

      “Women nowadays,” she said aloud with a disgusted sigh. “No mystery. No subtlety. No uniqueness.”

      Except for her. Jade Maguire, the young woman from Savannah she’d met just last week.

      Jade was exactly what Ryan needed. The perfect woman at the perfect moment. Ryan was thirty years old. It was high time for him to settle down, create a family. Her other grandchildren were all happily settled, having followed family tradition by falling madly in love with the right person as soon as they’d met them. She wouldn’t rest until the same thing happened to Ryan—the oldest and, though she’d never admit it aloud, her favorite.

      Unfortunately, she had the feeling he would be a little stubborn about this.

      She’d tried matchmaking before with, er, unfortunate results. This wasn’t the same. She wasn’t inviting him up for a weekend when she’d coincidentally invited a young woman she’d met at the bank. Nor was it like the time she’d hosted a dinner party, with Ryan and the granddaughter of a friend the only unattached people there. This wasn’t like the florist, or the schoolteacher, or that nice young girl who sold houses for a living. None of whom Ryan had found the least bit interesting, much less fallen madly in love with in record time.

      No, this time she’d chosen wisely. Perfectly, as a matter of fact. An art lover, a historian, a fascinating young woman who’d built a business all on her own. Even her business was exciting, unique and mysterious, like its owner.

      Jade Maguire ran one of those wonderfully spooky walking tour companies in the old Southern city of Savannah. Lynnette had never taken such a tour, but the adventurous part of her told her she’d probably love being scared out of her wits while standing on a darkened street late at night. Jade had told them a few fascinating, ghostly tales when she’d come to see Lynnette about the painting that used to hang above the fireplace.

      “Imagine,” Lynnette murmured aloud, looking at the now-empty wall where the beautiful portrait of a young woman had hung. “We had stolen property.”

      Lynnette’s great-great-grandfather had stolen the portrait from a plantation during the Civil War. Jade had produced positive proof—letters, a copy of a social column from an ancient newspaper, even a copy of the wrinkled, yellowed, hand-written bill of sale from the artist.

      Jade had asked Lynnette and her husband to consider donating the painting to the Savannah Historical Society, either now or in the future. Lynnette had immediately agreed, not only because it was the right thing to