Tempting Taylor

  Tempting Taylor

  Beverly Havlir

  Taylor’s dating life is a train wreck. It always starts off well enough, but by date five the first rush of hormones disappears and all that’s left is a man who is, in a word, disappointing. Forget dating, what Taylor needs is a no-strings-attached bed buddy she can ditch when she finally finds a man who measures up.

  Cooper is handsome, intelligent and anything but disappointing. Best of all, he’d be more than happy to apply for the job of Taylor’s bed buddy. Too bad he’s got the one strike against him Taylor can’t overlook—she’s so attracted to the man she can’t see straight. The way Cooper touches her, kisses her, is sexy as hell. Their chemistry is nothing short of incendiary. Taylor knows she’d better run, not walk, from his firm hands and hot promises because if there’s one thing she’s learned about Cooper, it’s that what the man wants, he gets.

  A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  TEMPTING TAYLOR

  Beverly Havlir

  Chapter One

  “Sorry I’m late.” Taylor Sanders gave Emily Sinclair a hug and grabbed one of the coffee cups on top of the counter and took a sip. She sighed with pleasure. “Yum.” Once a week, she and her best friend met up at their favorite coffee shop for coffee and muffins before heading to work. She stuck out her leg, swinging a foot encased in a sling-back, black high-heeled stiletto. “You like?”

  “New? Very pretty.” Emily’s eyebrow rose at the sight of the designer red sole. “Expensive too. Uh-oh. This can only mean one thing. You broke up with Dave.”

  With a sigh, Taylor popped her sunglasses back down to shield her eyes as they emerged in the warm Boston sunshine. “I know it’s a bad habit to shop for new shoes when a relationship fizzles, but it cheers me up, you know?” Truthfully, relationship was a strong word to define the mess that was her dating life.

  “You’ve bought a lot of new shoes lately.”

  Taylor swung her purse over her shoulder. “Don’t I know it? It’s the five-date rule again, Em. It’s killing me.”

  They crossed the street and headed toward the glass building that housed Aegis Inc., the corporation that owned their e-zine, The Girl Next Door.

  “What, again? But you had a feeling that Dave was going to work out.”

  “Yup. Time and time again, my theory is proven. I can’t go beyond five dates. After that, it’s kaput. Finis. Done.”

  Amusement flickered in Emily’s eyes. “Tell me again what’s so special with the fifth date?”

  Taylor sipped her coffee. A light breeze ruffled her hair. It was an amazing morning, and it was going to be a beautiful day. Too bad her dating life wasn’t quite as sunny and cheerful. “In my experience, five is the magic number. Or the doomsday number, if you will,” she said with a wince. “It’s like a train wreck. I know what’s going to happen on date number five and I’m helpless to stop it.”

  “Okay, let’s hear it. Why five?”

  “Date number one is getting to know each other,” Taylor explained. “It’s like feeling each other out, trying to see if you have anything in common. Do we both like the same kind of movies, music and stuff like that. And to see if he does little things that turn me off. You know, like does he chew loudly, or eat with his mouth open, or bore the hell out of me?”

  Emily snickered. “You’re such a nut. What’s number two?”

  “Number two is deciding if he has enough good points to get a third date.”

  “You know, Taylor, this is a testament to how busy your dating life is that you have a five-date rule. Other women would just be happy to get a date.”

  With a hand on her hip, Taylor stopped walking and stared at Emily. “Do you want to hear the rest or not?”

  Chucking softly, Emily nodded. “Go on.”

  “Date number three? To see if there are sparks.”

  “If there aren’t any, he doesn’t get date number four?”

  “Of course not. By date number three, I’ve decided if I want to let this guy kiss me, if I’m physically attracted to him.”

  “Wait,” Emily interrupted with a frown, “shouldn’t you know that by date number one at least? I mean, would you go out with a guy you weren’t physically attracted to?”

  Taylor waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve gone out with enough guys to know that the initial physical attraction doesn’t mean a thing. It fades quickly, let me tell you. I mean, I’ve had the hot and heavy beginning, only to be turned off by the second date.”

  “I bow to your superior knowledge of men,” Emily agreed solemnly.

  “To continue, before I was so rudely interrupted, I no longer rely on the initial rush of hormones. I’ve learned to temper my…er…libido.”

  Emily laughed.

  “I’m serious. By date number five, I’ve decided if I want to sleep with a guy or not. And more often than not, I don’t.”

  “Tay, honey, it’s not like there’s a lack of men in your life. You always inevitably move on to the next one.”

  “But the quality is sadly lacking,” Taylor lamented. “Why can’t I find my Devlin?”

  At the mention of her fiancé’s name, Emily’s smile softened. “Because he’s one in a million. And he’s mine.”

  It was Taylor’s turn to chuckle. “He’s all yours, all right. I don’t think that man will ever look at another woman but you.” She sobered. “I want that for me too.”

  Emily gave her a brief hug. “You’ll find the right guy. I believe that.”

  “Not if I can’t even last beyond five dates,” Taylor replied glumly.

  “You have to find Mr. Right. Not Mr. Right Now. Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve had no trouble attracting the opposite sex.”

  “If that’s the case, why are they all duds?”

  “Not all of them are.”

  “Most of them are,” she countered. “I just want to find a normal, attractive man who is confident, not a serial womanizer and will pass the five-date test.”

  “You’re going to have to trash that five-date test nonsense.”

  “It is not nonsense.”

  “Someday you’re going to find a man who’s going to debunk your five-date theory and blow it all to bits. And then what are you going to do?”

  Taylor rolled her eyes. “I have yet to come across a man who can disprove my theory and get me beyond five dates.” She stared at her shoes. “That’s why I love shoes. They cheer me up. They make me look good, and therefore, make me feel good. They never disappoint.” She glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “High heels make my butt look amazing.”

  Emily pulled a face. “You don’t need any more help in that department.”

  She shook her head and brushed some lint off her slim skirt. “You’re only saying that because you’re my best friend.” They came to a halt in front of the imposing entrance to the building.

  A black Mercedes Benz came to a smooth halt at the curb. A tall, dark-haired man climbed out of the driver side and Marcus, the doorman, immediately went to him and took his keys. Cooper Hathaway. As always, just the sight of Cooper was enough to trip Taylor’s pulse. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. No, handsome was too bland a word to describe Cooper. Hot was more apt. Smoldering. Sexy. Mouthwatering even. She could go on and on.

  Emily grabbed Taylor’s arm. “Haven’t you been trying to schedule a meeting with him for a couple of weeks now?”

  Taylor’s eyes widened. “Do I dare ambush him right now?”

  “Why not? This is the perfect opportunity to talk to him. He’s alone.”

  She’d been trying to finagle an interview with Cooper, but it had proven difficult. The man had rebuffed her repeated requests to meet with him and his secretary guarded his sche
dule like it was a state secret. This was her chance. “You’re right.”

  “Damn straight.” Emily grinned. “Now go before he walks away and you lose your chance. Hurry.”

  Without letting herself think about it, Taylor walked as fast as she could in her heels, waving back at Emily’s proffered, “Don’t trip in those shoes!”

  Cooper Hathaway stopped at the sight of the stunning woman rushing toward him. His gaze traveled from her dainty feet encased in strappy high-heels that screamed sexy and sultry, up shapely legs, past the knee-length black skirt and silk top. Her red-gold hair glinted in the sunlight, long, loose curls swinging halfway down to her waist. As always, when he caught sight of Taylor Sanders, every single cell in his body went on alert. His cock, especially, was instantly awake. Ready for action.

  Fuck me.

  He wiped all expression from his face and hoped he wasn’t drooling. Taylor Sanders was dangerous, very dangerous. Large dark-green eyes and full, pouty lips that brought to mind fantasies of them wrapped around his cock in a long, slow suck. Christ. She was unbelievably beautiful. Eminently fuckable. Every time he looked at her he imagined having her under him, over him, sideways, on the bed, against the wall, on the couch, hell, even on a table. He knew she’d been calling his office, requesting an appointment, and he’d been dodging her calls. Why? Because he was trying to keep his dick in his pants. It had been a long, long time since a woman had affected him this way. Women came easy for him. He didn’t lack for companionship. When he needed a woman, one was there. He didn’t have the time nor the inclination for a relationship. Sex was all he was after. Sex was all he offered. The women he’d been with knew that from the start. No false promises. No pretenses. Sex was a need he fulfilled. That was it.

  Taylor was different. He was attracted to her. Damn it. More than attracted. He salivated every time he looked at her. His dick was enamored, enraptured and always alert and at attention whenever he caught a glimpse of her. Thinking about her, which he often did, made his cock stiff. He would never admit it to anybody, but every day he was on the lookout for her. To see if she was really as beautiful in reality or if his brain was seriously damaged. But every day was the same. She was just as hot, just as sexy and he wanted her more.

  She was the type of woman to be wined and dined, to be courted and handled delicately. She would go for a man with soft hands, a country club membership and a lineage that went back to the Mayflower.

  She had relationship written all over her—something he didn’t have time for. Acquiring Hathaway Publishing and dealing with the ridiculous lawsuit his stepmother brought against him had left little free time. He’d been consumed by the need to take back the company that his mother—who had died of a lingering incurable illness when he was ten—had loved.

  The object of his lust—morning, noon and night. She was slightly out of breath and still looked ridiculously hot. Up close, she was even lovelier, her skin smooth and flawless. Her lips were full, a bit wide, but added just enough to make her centerfold worthy. It didn’t take much to imagine her naked, spread like a feast in front of him, ready to be devoured. Ready to be fucked. Taylor had a body made for sex. Not the clean, vanilla kind. The hot, dirty kind. His balls tightened. Shit.

  Cooper unconsciously steeled himself as she came to a stop in front of him. He was losing his mind.

  Taylor was a tad breathless when she drew up alongside Cooper. She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. “Mr. Hathaway.”

  Cooper fixed cool gray eyes on her. “Taylor.”

  She blinked. His gaze was direct and unwavering. Unnerving as well. This close she could see that there was a darker ring around the gray of his eyes. When he focused on her, she felt like they were the only two people in the busy lobby. Self-conscious, she licked her lips and took a deep breath. God he was tall. Even in her high-heels, he still towered over her. What was he, six-three, six-four? He was dressed in a custom-made, perfectly fitting suit, with a light blue shirt that stretched across his impressive chest and a silk tie knotted expertly at his throat. His suit screamed designer, as was the classy Rolex he wore on his wrist. He looked like he just stepped out of a men’s magazine photo shoot. His face was angular and masculine, his lips unsmiling, his expression a bit austere. His dark hair was short and neatly combed. He looked exactly like what he was, a very successful businessman.

  He would be totally devastating when he smiled.

  Pull it together, girl.

  He resumed walking when she didn’t respond.

  She flushed. Quickening her stride to keep up with him, she noted how people gave way to let him pass. She smiled, determined to charm the man. “It’s very hard to get a meeting with you. Mr. Hathaway—”

  He abruptly stopped and turned to face her. “Cooper. I think we moved beyond formalities the day you barged into my office when I took over the company last year, don’t you?”

  That was clearly in reference to the incident last year when she’d stormed into his office after he’d just taken over Hathaway Publishing, ready to rain fire and brimstone on him when she’d thought he was going to sell the publishing company that owned The Girl Next Door.

  He glanced at his watch. “You’ve been asking to speak with me for quite some time now. This is your chance.”

  “Yes, well. This isn’t exactly how I envisioned meeting with you,” she began.

  For a second, just a quick second, his gaze dropped to her lips. Taylor blinked, unsure that it even happened. Warm and unsettled, she resisted the urge to glance at a mirrored wall to make sure she looked neat and that everything was in place. To do so would show that he unnerved her. She pushed that feeling aside. “I want to interview you for the e-zine.”

  “I don’t do interviews.”

  She gave him a persuasive smile. “An in-depth article will give the public a glimpse of the real you.”

  “The PR department has a press packet. Use that.” He pressed the call button to the elevator.

  Determined not to be summarily dismissed and refusing to be deflated by the flat denial, Taylor opened her mouth to continue when the elevator doors slid open quietly and Cooper stepped inside. When Taylor didn’t follow suit, he quirked an eyebrow.

  She hesitated. Being in a closed, confined space with this man would surely suck whatever oxygen was left in her brain. He flustered her, for God’s sake. But then again, trying to get a few minutes of his time was like pulling teeth. This was her chance, a golden opportunity to speak with him. Alone. In an elevator. Without any interruptions. Dare she do it?

  Straightening her spine, she stepped inside the elevator and watched as the double doors closed, sealing them inside.

  The sudden quiet and intimacy of their location struck her at once. There were no barriers, no buffer between them. Cooper stared at her across the width of the elevator without saying a word. Taylor wished the doors would open and somebody—anybody—would get in and break the awful tension building in the air. But the doors remained stubbornly closed. Damn it.

  The enclosed space suddenly seemed smaller. Pulling in a deep breath, Taylor unconsciously braced herself. Cooper stared at her, his face expressionless, unreadable.

  The bell dinged as the elevator began to move.

  It’s nerves, that’s all. Talking to Cooper Hathaway, requesting an interview with him was nerve-wracking as hell. Those gray eyes bored into her like lasers, enigmatic and brooding. His arms were crossed, the custom-made suit molding to the muscular shoulders. The man looked sinfully delicious, eminently sexy. Just plain yummy. Too bad he was as cold as ice. If his very active dating life wasn’t always plastered in magazines and society pages, she’d be more apt to believe that his attitude scared women away. But then again, it had been proven time and time again that women tended to gravitate to enigmatic, brooding, elusive men. Cooper was definitely one of those.

  Taylor flicked a glance at the flashing numbers. Why the hell was the elevator moving super slow? Bracing her hands on the railing
behind her, she quietly pulled in a breath and sought to relax. It was hard not to fidget under his gaze. The man unnerved her, plain and simple. He made her uncomfortable, self-conscious and hyper-aware of him. Of the way he looked, the way his gaze met hers directly, the way he stared at her. Again she felt that quick spurt of excitement that sizzled through her whenever she was within ten feet of him. The same physical reaction she had when she’d seen him for the first time in person that fateful day last year. She’d felt it even during the “tirade” she launched into in his office after he had taken over Hathaway Publishing and she’d thought he was going to shut down The Girl Next Door.

  She gave him a persuasive smile. “I’m afraid I’m not interested in the press packet the PR department brings out every time you’re asked for an interview.”

  “Surely you have better things to write about than me.”

  She almost rolled her eyes. Cooper Hathaway was notorious for shunning the press, famously refusing to grant any interviews.

  “Oh I don’t know about that. You were recently named businessman of the year, and most eligible bachelor by a popular magazine. I think our female readers will find you very interesting.”

  Again she felt that sharp tug of attraction pull at her senses. Taylor sucked in a deep breath, seeking that elusive scent that teased her nostrils when she’d stood a couple of feet away from him. Even the way he smelled drew her, hitting her dead center. It was the clean scent of soap and man, not the cloying smell of cologne.

  Okay, this is not good. Cooper’s effect on her was disturbing. She knew she was playing with fire asking him for an interview, but she just couldn’t pass this up. With Emily busy with her upcoming wedding, they had both agreed that Taylor would do the article. Now she wasn’t sure that it was a good idea. Of course Emily had no idea that Cooper was the star of Taylor’s fantasies. In the dark of night, alone in her bedroom, it was Cooper she thought of as she pleasured herself—a secret that was all her own.