1925 - Millionaire's Secret Seduction by Jennifer Lewis Read Free Book Online Page A

the scrawny way of Tarrant’s ex-supermodel cohorts. Her long legs were muscled and shapely, her waist an hourglass dip between full, feminine hips and high, rounded breasts.
    He couldn’t keep his eyes off her curvy rear, and the way the fabric of her fitted skirt shifted over it in rhythmic movements as she strode out of the elevator.
    Down boy.
    She murmured a polite goodbye to the security guard in the deserted lobby. Dominic took her arm, despite her momentary protest, as they exited to the dark street.
    Muggy summer heat lingered in the air. “So you won’t tell?” she whispered.
    “I’ve made no promises.” He tightened his arm around hers as she tried to pull away. “But I think we’re on our way to an arrangement that will work for both of us.”
    If she’d turned to look at him, the reflected light from the street lamps might have picked out an evil gleam in his eye.
    She marched with determined speed, her heels clicking over the pavement. “What time’s your train?”
    “Eleven-twenty.” She didn’t turn to look at him.
    “You live in Westchester?”
    “It’s where my mom’s house is.”
    “The house she’s about to lose.”
    “It’s a nice house, not big and fancy at all, but the way taxes are these days…” She sucked in a breath. “She has a lovelygarden she’s put two decades of work into. It would kill me to see her have to give it up.”
    Dominic glanced at her. Determination strengthened her elegant features. “I think it would take more than that to kill you.”
    “You don’t know me.” Her accusing stare made his five o’clock stubble prickle.
    “True.” He frowned. “Is Tarrant a tough boss to work for?”
    “Not really. He leaves me alone to run the lab the way I want.”
    “He trusts you.”
    A tiny wrinkle marred her smooth forehead. “Yes. I suppose he does.”
    “I guess every man’s a fool sometimes.”

Three
    D ominic climbed the marble steps of the El Cubano cigar bar on Fifth Avenue. Tarrant Hardcastle might only have a few months left to live, but he liked to see and be seen. Despite the acres of retail space and plush corporate offices Tarrant owned a few blocks away, he spent a good portion of each day kicking back in his personal armchair at this mecca for the wealthy and self-indulgent.
    Without asking, Tarrant had secured him an impossible-to-get membership. Now, although he’d never smoked anything in his life, there was a polished wood humidor with Dominic’s name emblazoned on it in engraved gold plate.
    Well, the name Dominic Hardcastle.
    Glittering there among the names of Hollywood bad boys and Capitol Hill big-wigs, that name gave him a stomach-churning dose of mixed feelings.
    “Good morning, Mr. Hardcastle. Can I get you a drink?”
    He shook his head at the immaculately attired waiter. He didn’t need alcohol. His head hadn’t stopped spinning since last night, when a brunette scientist with a soft pink mouth and a twisted agenda had knocked him right off kilter.
    He’d kissed her again at Grand Central. Fast, hot and hard. Then she ran for her platform and left him there, aching.
    He shoved a hand through his hair, tried to dispel the stray energy that cramped his muscles.
    “Dominic!” Tarrant Hardcastle held up his arms, as if welcoming the long-lost prodigal back to the fold.
    Dominic moved toward him, jaw rigid. He wasn’t the prodigal. He was the steady, hardworking son who’d hung in there the whole time, only to have the rules change when he wasn’t looking.
    “Wonderful to see you, dear boy!”
    Tarrant grasped Dominic’s hand between both of his. The glowing man-about-town who ornamented the pages of various glossy Condé Nast publications seemed thinner. He’d recently let his hair turn gray, which made him look his sixty-seven years.
    “Are you sure I can’t tempt you down the road to ruin with one of these magnificent Havanas?” He waved a fat stogie in Dominic’s direction. The state-of-the-art ventilation