Wicked & Willing

His father certainly hadn’t pushed him out. They’d be partners, he’d insisted. But when Troy had thought it over, he’d realized he was being given a chance to do something he never thought he would—go outside the store, maybe move somewhere else altogether, try another line of work.

Freedom from Langtree’s had been shocking—but also intoxicating. He’d finally understood some of the choices his twin had made. Though, God knew, he’d never fathom Trent’s delight in planting bushes or mucking around in fertilizer.

Fate had stepped in to make his decision a simple one. Max Longotti, an old friend of his late grandfather, had told Troy’s grandmother he was thinking of selling his nationally known catalog company. He wanted the Langtrees to consider buying it. To that end, he asked Troy to come work with him at his Atlanta headquarters for a few months, so the board could get to know him before Max asked them to vote on the sale.

Troy had leapt at the chance. He’d closed up his beachfront condo and driven to Georgia. Max Longotti, a crotchety old soul who reminded Troy of his grandfather, had welcomed Troy into his own home until he could find another place. He’d be moving into a furnished apartment in a few days. Until then, the Longotti estate was quite comfortable—if large and rather deserted.

One thing Troy had learned so far during his brief stay in Atlanta…Max Longotti was a lonely man. A rich, lonely man who seemed surrounded by scavengers just waiting for him to kick the bucket so they could sink their claws into his money. Troy shook his head in disgust.

Remembering Max had mentioned he’d be in late in the afternoon due to a doctor’s appointment, Troy glanced at his watch, noting it was nearly four. He should have just enough time to read over the marketing projections for the latest sales circular before meeting with Max at the end of the day.

He reached for it, but froze when something else—a bright flash of red outside—caught his eye.

A woman. “Who the devil…” He stood, walking toward the sliding glass door which lead out to the small balcony. A nice touch, the balcony. Troy had become accustomed to sitting outdoors when he had reading to do or reports to peruse.

Obviously no one had come through his office, so the intruder had to have come out the other door, which exited off Max’s. Knowing Max hadn’t yet arrived, he wondered why the older man’s efficient secretary had left the woman alone. And, more importantly, why was she here to begin with? Watching her out the glass, he doubted she was here on business.

The woman had to be tall. She sat in one of the two tasteful, wrought-iron chairs, her long legs crossed and her feet resting on the waist-high balcony railing. She seemed completely unconcerned about losing her slip-on sandal, as she tapped her toe against the air in some unheard rhythm. The heel of the shoe swung against her bare foot as it dangled ten stories above Peachtree Street.

Troy followed every swing of her foot, nearly spotlighted in the sunlight. Her open sandals revealed bright red-polished toenails and a splotch of color—a tattoo—just above her right ankle. Definitely not here on business.

He continued to stare. Her legs, completely bare, went on forever. And ever. Troy swallowed hard as he studied the smooth skin of her calf, the slimness of her pale thighs. Her tiny jean shorts interrupted his visual assessment of her legs. His gaze skimmed past them to the clingy white tank top she wore, which hugged a generously curved chest.

His heart skipped a beat.

Then he saw her face, complete with full lips and a pert nose. Long lashes rested on her cheeks since her eyes were closed. And her thick mass of auburn hair caught the sunlight and shone like red-hot flames.

Seeing her lips move, and her head nodding in rhythm with her tapping foot, he leaned closer to the door. Even through the glass, he could make out the words she was singing.

“B-b-b-b-ba-ad. I’m bad to the bone.”

The sudden rush of familiar heat as his libido returned in full force brought a smile to Troy’s lips. Reaching for the handle of the door, he nearly sighed in relief. He hadn’t felt this good for a long time. Three months, to be exact.

“Thank you, God,” he whispered.

Now it was time to meet the woman who’d so effortlessly awakened him from his long, sexless sleep.

2

“HELLO, ATLANTA. Scarlett has come to pay a visit,” Venus Messina murmured to the sky as she reclined on the balcony of the high-rise office building. “Aunt Pitty, hide the silver. And Rhett, if you’re out there, call me, baby.”

She closed her eyes, thinking she could almost fall asleep in this bright patch of sunlight. Considering the whirlwind of her life over the past seventy-two hours, she supposed it wasn’t surprising. She hadn’t gotten much sleep lately.

If anyone had suggested last week that within days she’d be in another state, preparing to meet a man who may or may not be her grandfather, she’d have laughed in his face. Or, more likely, cut him off, taken his keys and called a cab.

Yet here she was.

Leaving had been remarkably easy. Joe had insisted he could do without her at Flanagan’s. She’d also arranged for her best friend, Lacey, to look after her spoiled cat and her half-dead houseplants. The cat she wanted to come home to. The plants she didn’t really care about—but Venus didn’t like to admit defeat, and if those dumb ferns were going to die, they would do it at her hand. Lacey would probably have them all healthy and blooming by the time she got back, anyway, just the way she had when she’d lived next door to Venus in their Baltimore apartment complex.

Venus had missed her friend since she’d moved out a year ago. If Lacey were still her neighbor, she probably would have gotten Venus to spill the truth about this trip. Since Lacey was a newlywed, though, it hadn’t been hard to keep her in the dark. Lacey was easily distracted by any question about her much-adored spouse, Nate.

Venus wiggled in her chair slightly, the wrought iron hard against her backside. “Pool boy, bring me a froufrou drink and a more comfortable chaise lounge,” she whispered with a grin.

A beach vacation would have been nice. But she had a feeling she was going to like Atlanta, especially with the way things had been going in Baltimore.

She hadn’t had a second thought when she’d deposited Leo Gallagher’s five-thousand-dollar check, nor when she’d taken a cab to the airport and boarded a plane heading south this morning. Venus still hadn’t figured Mr. Gallagher out yet. Either he was one heck of a nice nephew who really wanted to see his uncle happy…which she doubted. Or he was running some kind of scam…which seemed more likely. What her part in the scheme was, she really couldn’t say. And for five grand—which would go a long way toward rent, not to mention summer clothes for the foster kids back in Jersey—she wasn’t asking many questions.

After all, she wasn’t doing anything illegal. She’d simply agreed to visit this Longotti guy for one week, to explore the possibility that she was his long-lost granddaughter. Just because she personally had serious doubts that she was—and didn’t particularly want to be—did not mean it was entirely impossible. The odds were better than, say, getting struck by lightning. Or winning the lottery.

Or finding a nice guy who wanted to get married and have a house in the suburbs and a few babies before Venus was too old to enjoy them. She sighed at that cheery thought.

Anyway, whatever Gallagher was up to was on his head, not hers. She was just along for the ride. A well-paid ride.

She had, however, been curious enough to call her foster mother and ask her about the birth certificate. Maureen had told her she’d lost the original in the break-in, but had also said the Child Welfare Agency had forwarded a box of things after Venus had turned eighteen. Confirming she still had the box somewhere, she told Venus she’d mail it to her in Baltimore.

Nearly purring in the warmth of the sun, Venus began to hum, then to sing, a favorite old rock-and-roll song that fit her mood perfectly. When she heard the soft slide of a glass door opening, however, she stopped singing and opened her eyes. She expected to see Leo, accompanied by an old man.

She was almost afraid to look. Would his face seem familiar? Would his smile look like her own? Would he see something in her that reminded him of his long-lost son?

Stop it, Venus. It’s not true and you know it.

When she saw a younger man standing there instead, her heart raced faster, anyway.

Good lord, they grew men well in the south!

Shading her eyes with her hand, she studied the stranger in the gray suit. A guy in a tie. Her first impulse should have been to leap off the balcony in self-preservation. But somehow, after months of relative apathy when it came to men, Venus remembered what she so very much liked about them.

Just about everything.

Besides, she was in Atlanta for one week only. How much damage could even a guy in a tie do in one little week?

First things first—was he tall enough to meet her number-one requirement on her man list? At just a smidge under six feet herself, Venus never went for guys she’d tower over in spike-heeled do-me shoes. A girl had to have her priorities.

All lean, muscled male wrapped up in an elegantly tailored package, this man obviously stood a few inches over six feet tall. Meets height requirement. Check.

He was also dark-haired, another personal preference. His thick, chestnut-brown hair was cut conservatively, but ruffled a bit in the strong breeze blowing between the high-rise buildings. It would probably be tousled like that when he woke up in the morning.

Her mouth went dry. She swallowed and continued staring.

His face was magazine-model handsome. Lean jaw, straight, strong nose. Heavily lashed to-die-for eyes the color of springtime leaves. And one of the most kissable mouths she’d ever seen on a guy.

Kissing was one of her personal favorite things to do, and got her vote for being the all-around best activity for the mouth. It ranked even higher than eating rich, dark chocolate, which was probably in her top five. As for the rest of the list…well, that was flexible, depending on her mood, the time of the month and her romantic status. With someone like this incredible man, however, she could definitely picture the possibilities. She nearly moaned at the image.

Her gaze moved lower, to his left hand. No ring.

Perfect.

“Good afternoon,” she said lazily, her mouth widening in welcome, a signal no man alive could miss.

He smiled back just as lazily, just as aware. Those eyes darkened and his smile faded as they stared at each other for a long, heady moment. Then, taking his cue from her, he expressed not a hint of surprise about finding a strange, casually dressed woman sunning herself out here on the balcony. “Good afternoon to you. Enjoying the sunshine?”

She nodded and turned her face to the sky, drawing in a deep breath. “Love it.”

“Be careful,” he warned as he sat on the other chair. “It’s deceptive with the breeze. Redheads tend to burn, right?”

She raised a brow. “Who says I’m a natural redhead?” At this point in her life, Venus could barely remember what her natural hair color was anymore, though she thought this was pretty close. She’d run the full color spectrum in the past several years. But red was definitely her favorite.

“Whether you are or not, stick with this,” he murmured, glancing at her hair with a look so intimate it felt like a touch. “A woman with eyes as green as yours should be a redhead.”

His quiet flattery hit home. The man was a charmer.

“And a man with a face like yours is usually wearing a wedding ring,” she murmured, needing to make sure he was available before they went any further. Venus might like men, but she never went after the taken ones.

“Not married. Not involved,” he replied easily.

She wondered if he heard her audible sigh of relief.

When he didn’t respond by asking the same question, Venus paused. Was he not interested? Or was he so interested he simply didn’t give a damn whether she was available or not? Hoping it was the latter, she offered the information anyway. “Me, neither.”

Far below them, the traffic rumbled by, evidence of the bustling city life during a hectic Monday rush hour. But up here, high above it all, Venus felt completely separated. Alone. Except for this sexy stranger with the mouth she felt she had to soon kiss or die trying.

He gestured toward her sandal. “That could probably kill someone if it fell from this height.”

She intentionally flipped it harder, setting a tapping rhythm with the shoe.

He grinned. “Okay, so I’ve got ulterior motives for wanting you to move your legs.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared intently at her foot. “What is it?”

“I think it’s called a shoe.”

He chuckled. “No, I meant that.” He pointed toward her ankle. Leaning even closer, he reached for her leg and gently tugged her foot off the railing. Venus sucked in a breath at the feel of his warm fingers on her calf, wondering if he heard the crazy pounding of her heart within her chest. She heard it—it roared to life in her head as she focused every bit of her attention on the brush of his skin against hers.

“This,” he said softly as he placed her foot on his knee, completely disregarding any possible damage to his expensive trousers. Then he leaned over to look at her tattoo. He touched the tiny hummingbird she’d had put on as an unemployment present last year. “Very pretty. Did it hurt?”

She could only manage to shake her head. If she tried to make a sound, it would emerge as a whimper. Or a plea.

He continued touching her, tracing the shape of the blue-green bird with the tip of his finger, cupping the back of her calf with his other hand.

The chair suddenly felt harder against her bottom. She shifted uncomfortably in the suddenly too-tight jean shorts. And her breath barely made it into her lungs as she focused on the way he looked at her. The way he touched her.

“Why a hummingbird?” he asked, still not letting go.

She didn’t answer at first, not quite able to. She couldn’t even think of anything but the way his gentle touch would feel, sliding up her leg, beneath her shorts. Touching her where she suddenly felt hot and achy.

Finally, drawing in a ragged breath, she whispered, “I like hummingbirds. They’re aggressive as hell, but still delicate and small. Just like I always wanted to be.”

Shaking his head reprovingly, he tsked. “Why do women always want to be the opposite of what they are? Even when they’re stunningly beautiful?”

She snorted a laugh, drawing his stare to her face. Okay, she was the opposite of delicate and small. But she didn’t think she was the opposite of aggressive. Or so she’d been told. Then she focused on the stunningly beautiful part.

That worked.

“I’ve suddenly discovered I really like tall women.”

Oh, yay!

“Any other tattoos anywhere?” he asked, letting his gaze travel across her bare shoulders and neck.

Her body reacted, her nipples hardening beneath her shirt. Feeling them scrape against the cotton, she wondered if he noticed. “No,” she said. “But I’m thinking about it. I’m not sure I’ll like my next choice once I turn seventy-five or eighty.”

He raised a questioning brow. “Next choice?”

She nodded. “Jessica Rabbit.”

When no look of understanding crossed his face, Venus gestured toward her top. If he hadn’t seen her body’s reaction to the way he’d held her foot before, he’d surely notice it now.

She tugged the cotton tight, revealing the sexy, red-haired cartoon character vamping it up on the front of her T-shirt. In a bubble above the bombshell’s head were the words, “I’m not bad. I’m just drawn that way.”

Venus liked the sentiment.

“Ahh,” he said, staring hard at her shirt. His voice sounded thick. Yeah, he’d noticed.

“She doesn’t look like a rabbit,” he offered, still delicately stroking her ankle, absently caressing her calf until she nearly writhed in her chair.

“She’s, uh, not…” Venus managed to reply. “That’s her married name.”

“What about you? Are you bad? Or are you just drawn that way?”

She closed her eyes, leaning back in her seat, silently asking him to continue the tender stroking of her leg. “Maybe I’ll let you figure it out for yourself,” she murmured.

He finally let go of her foot, as if realizing they were moving really fast for a couple of people who hadn’t yet introduced themselves.

“I’ve thought about getting one,” he admitted, gently shifting her foot off his lap. Then he chuckled ruefully. “Not that anyone would believe it.”

“Why not?”

He answered with a secretive smile. “Let’s just say people see me in a certain way. A tattoo wouldn’t go with the image.”

“I know how that goes,” she muttered, not even able to count the times someone had been surprised by her intelligence, or the business sense hidden beneath the exterior package and smart mouth. “But you don’t exactly look like Mister Boring Businessman.” Gesturing toward his tanned skin, she mused, “Looks like you’re no stranger to the sun yourself.”

“I actually live on the beach in south Florida. Or rather, I did, until last week.”

“You moved here? To Atlanta?”

“Not permanently. I’m not sure where I’ll end up. I’ve recently found myself with a lot more freedom than I expected.”

She couldn’t resist. “So you made parole, huh?”

Deadpan, he nodded. “Certainly. Amazing how quickly they let us homicidal maniacs out nowadays.”

“Tell me you didn’t get sent up the river for throwing red-haired females over balconies.”

He shook his head, a twinkle in his pale green eyes. “Only natural redheads.”

She gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Whew.”

“So,” he continued. “Should I ask who you are and what you’re doing here? Or should we just leave now and go straight to…dinner?”

She liked his directness. And she suspected his pause had been quite deliberate. They’d exchanged only a few dozen sentences, but she’d mentally substituted another word for “dinner,” and she’d bet he had too. As surely as she’d bet that word was “bed.”

Venus, you swore off men, remember? Even before this whole long-lost granddaughter business.

Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to care. The instant chemistry between her and the stranger was something she hadn’t experienced before. Ever.

Sure, she’d had her fair share of relationships with men. Probably enough fair shares for two or three women, if she wanted to be completely honest about it. That had been part of the reason she’d decided to take a break from them after losing her job.

Other reasons had probably included Lacey’s blissfully happy marriage. Plus Venus’s brief fling with Raul, a hunky young guy who worked with Lacey. She’d dated Raul in the brief period between dumping Dale, the loser at work, and getting paid back by him with the loss of her job.

Raul, though a good bit younger than she, had been a doll, and she’d found herself caring about him quite a lot. If he’d been older, and at a different place in his life, Venus could have fallen in love with him. But they were moving in different directions and realized they worked best as friends.

Still, having pictured love, she almost found herself wanting it. True love, marriage, the whole shebang…with the right person. Eventually. After she’d gotten over what dickhead Dale had done to her.

Eight months seemed just about long enough to get over backstabbing and betrayal. Besides, she’d missed some parts of her former lifestyle. Particularly men. Venus liked men. She liked dating. Liked going out dancing, or to ball games, or just for walks at the Inner Harbor back home in Baltimore.

And she liked sex. Really liked it. So sue me.

As much as she’d enjoyed getting to know men—usually the wrong ones—she’d never felt such an instant, sudden, overwhelming desire for one. Especially not while stone-cold sober. So she at least ought to find out his name.

“My name’s Venus,” she said. She scooted her chair closer until her bare knees nearly touched his blue trousers.

“How appropriate,” he murmured.

“I think so. You would be…”

“Troy.”

“How nice to meet you, Troy. I’d love to go to dinner with you, but unfortunately tonight’s not possible.” She gestured toward his tasteful necktie and gave him a flirtatious grin. “Besides, I’ve recently sworn off guys in ties.”

He shrugged. “Easily remedied. I’ll take it off.”

“And suits,” she said, knowing he could hear a suggestive purr in her voice.

“It can come off too.” His tone was just as suggestive.

She raised a wicked brow and glanced at the other buildings nearby. “Hmm, that could be interesting. But aren’t you worried some of these executives in their cubbyholes keep binoculars around? I know I would if you were in the habit of standing out here, taking off your…tie.”

He laughed out loud, a warm, rich laugh that rolled over her body and made her tingle. She liked the sound of it as much as she liked the curve of his lips.

Taking a deep breath, she suddenly wondered what other interesting sounds the man was capable of. Sighs. Moans. Shouts.

She nearly shuddered at the thought.

“I didn’t mean here,” he said.

She pouted. “Aww, gee.”

“Tomorrow?” he asked. “I promise not to overdress.”

Or dress at all? Oh, yes, the man knew how to play this game. But before she could go any further, she needed to find out just who he was. “So, are you here today for a meeting or something?” she asked, hearing a hopeful note in her own voice. Please say yes. She hoped like crazy that he didn’t work here, in the suite of offices used by Max Longotti’s catalog company, Longotti Lines. Because she really didn’t want to start off her relationship with her supposed/could-be/maybe grandfather by seducing one of his employees.

Not that she’d have to do the seducing. If she was any judge—and she was—the man looked fully capable of seduction. She shivered slightly, in spite of the heat of the brightly lit afternoon.

“Actually, that’s my office.” He pointed over his shoulder to the door through which he’d emerged moments before.

Moments? Had she really discovered the existence of this man who made her heart pound like crazy and her legs feel weak and boneless mere moments before?

She finally thought about his reply and her heart sank, along with her plans. “Your office. Right there. So, uh, you work here? For Max Longotti?” When he nodded, she tried to contain a disappointed sigh.

“I’m Max’s new V.P. For now,” he continued.

Perfect. Just perfect. She’d met a man who’d finally made her rethink her “men aren’t worth the trouble” stance, and she couldn’t have him. It simply would not be smart to get involved with this man, no matter how delicious he was.

Leo would not be happy if she did what she really wanted to do with this handsome, charming stranger. He seemed intent on “pleasing” his uncle by presenting him with his sweet and lovely long-lost grandchild.

Sweet she wasn’t, which is exactly what she’d told Leo. So he’d settled for bright and lovely. Still, he had insisted that she be as discreet as possible, and she’d agreed.

And even Venus—who’d been called everything in her life, except discreet—knew sleeping with Max’s executive might not be the height of discretion.

As a matter of fact, the guy would have to be completely off-limits. Starting right now.

Hell.

TROY SENSED IT the moment the stunning redhead began to withdraw. Her smile faded, her eyelashes lowered and she turned away in her chair to stare at the skyline. Because he worked here? Interesting…

“Now, why don’t you tell me who are you, and why you’re here, Venus?”