He's the One, Jane Beckenham [best new books to read TXT] 📗

HE'S THE ONE

JANE BECKENHAM

Copyright

Linden Bay Romance, LLC

www.lindenbayromance.com

Copyright ©2007 by Jane Beckenham

First published in www.lindenbayromance.com, 2007

NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

HE'S THE ONE

Published by Linden Bay Romance, 2007

Linden Bay Romance, LLC, U.S.

ISBN Trade paperback: 978-1-60202-071-9

ISBN MS Reader (LIT): 978-1-60202-070-2

Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

PDF, PRC & HTML

Copyright © Patricia Jane Beckenham, 2007

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The work is protected by copyright and should not be copied without permission. Linden Bay Romance, LLC reserves all rights. Re-use or re-distribution of any and all materials is prohibited under law.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

Cover art by Beverly Maxwell

Chapter One

"Virginity is overrated,” Taylor Sullivan pronounced, exhaling every pent up emotion she'd bottled for the past twenty-four hours. Ever since she'd seen him, Mr. Perfect-For-The-Job. Pivoting on her heels she gripped her assistant's arm. “This is a mistake."

"No, it's not. You said yourself, he's the one."

"What do I know? I mean, who is he?"

"Cade Harper. Bad boy made good—and one sexy hunk. Is that enough for you?” Nita gave her a suggestive grin.

Oh yeah.

Taylor wiped sweaty palms down the sides of her skirt. “The fairy godmother handing out good looks at his bassinet sure was kind,” she said, remembering the handsome man who'd stood haloed by light streaming in from the stained glass window.

But now, twenty-four hours later as the throbbing beat of music threaded its way into the vestibule where she and Nita waited, Taylor's wayward nerves vaulted into overdrive.

"I should never have told you."

Nita shrugged. “Probably not, but, hey, I get those calls, too."

"But you can answer them,” Taylor countered.

"So, what are you going to do about it, Taylor?"

Taylor bit down on her bottom lip, chewing it as if it afforded her the luxury of time. “I don't want a relationship."

"Who said anything about a relationship? This is a fling. A one-nighter. Get you past first base, so to speak."

First base! Taylor swallowed the lump that choked off her breathing. The icy chill sliding along her bones had nothing to do with Auckland's balmy May evening breeze.

Her fingers grazed the side of her handbag and snapped back as if scalded.

Condoms. An appropriate reminder: preparation and safety first.

She could do this. She could.

She grabbed Nita's arm. “Okay. Let's go."

Nita stalled mid-step. “What? You expect me to come, too?"

"I need you. I can't do this on my own. I need..."

"Cade Harper is who you need, Taylor. You said so yourself. Cade's a love and leave ‘em sort of guy. Don't get caught. Now, go.” Nita gave her a push towards the entrance.

Love and leave. Definitely perfect credentials. Cade didn't know it yet, but he was the answer to Taylor's prayers

Battling the raw panic lodged in her gut, as every second edged her towards turning and running, Taylor surveyed the patrons as they walked past and into the bar. Her hands shook. She wanted to forget the idea. Forget sex. Forget Cade Harper. Instead she focused on the entrance, and her pulse quickened.

The best man. How appropriate.

Cade hadn't been at the wedding rehearsal; otherwise she would have noticed him. But at the wedding, dressed in a black tuxedo that molded his broad shoulders, the crisp white dress shirt with its diamond stud buttons, he absolutely stood out. In a second, she had made her decision. He was perfect for the job.

Squaring her shoulders, Taylor shoved the door open. For a moment, she stood motionless, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting, the noise and heat hitting her in an undulating wave. Taking a deep breath, she clutched her bag and ventured in.

A single length of hand-chiseled wood that operated as a bar spanned one end of the room. Behind it were a medley of liquors and an ornate mirror etched with the words of a famous beer. Tables and chairs dotted around the room were mostly taken. In one corner a jukebox emitted an ear piercing rock band, while an eager group of players surrounded a pool table in another corner.

All this was of little consequence to Taylor, because right there was her quarry—Cade Harper.

He stood behind the bar, a cocktail shaker in one hand and a salt-crusted margarita glass in the other.

He looked good. Tawny, sun bronzed hair that tapered over his collar and the same unruly tendril dipping over his forehead that refused to be controlled.

Very sexy.

No tuxedo tonight, but a black T-shirt with the sleeves rolled back, stretched taut over biceps that flexed and...

Oh, God.

A bad boy.

Taylor wiped a hand across her brow, slaking her tongue across suddenly parched lips. The temperature had escalated several degrees in one blazing second.

Partially hidden by a potted ficus, she watched him, heart dancing an erratic beat.

"Can I help you?"

Taylor spun round.

"I..."

Same coloring, same dark eyes, albeit female, smaller and delicate, but definitely in Cade's image. Taylor glanced toward Cade over the woman's head. “I'm here to see Mr. Harper,” she mumbled. Mister! Good grief! She wanted to have sex with this man, and she called him mister!

"Cade?” his replica responded, eyebrows quirking upwards.

Taylor nodded, relieved the woman didn't ask any questions and wondered at the same time what her reaction would have been if she'd said, “It's about sex."

"Follow me.” The young woman crooked her finger toward Taylor, turned and wove her way between tables. With clammy hands and a tangle of trepidation and anticipation colliding inside her stomach, Taylor hurried after her.

"Cade."

"Yeah.” He handed the margarita to a customer and Taylor's gaze followed the salt-rimmed glass. It shimmered under the overhead lighting, and she found herself licking