Devilishly Wicked by Kathy Love Read Free Book Online

voluptuous woman scantily clad, and over her head she held a glowing globe. Her eyes were closed and her face serene. There was a certain appealing strength in her serenity and her utterly feminine form.
    Georgia looked at the tag. “The Goddess.”
    That was a perfect name for her. Then she looked at the price. Yikes. Apparently, goddesses didn’t come cheap.
    She lingered a moment longer, then moved on.
    “Ready?”
    She turned from looking at a set of bookends of two knights jousting, creating the illusion that the jousting sticks were piercing straight through the books.
    “Yes.”
    Again, Tristan placed a hand on the small of her back and directed her toward the exit. She debated whether she should move away, but decided there was no way to do so without it being obvious and awkward.
    Besides, the touch was probably one of habit. She could see him walking like this with models and designers and other important females in the industry as they discussed business or entered an exclusive party. He probably wasn’t even aware he was doing it.
    Unlike her, who felt, yet again, as if her heart was going to bounce out of her chest and onto the floor. Her toes curled in her platform dollies as she allowed herself to enjoy the heat and strength of his touch. Even though she’d just told herself she wasn’t going to let him affect her.
    But good golly, his hand felt so good.
    She stumbled slightly, focused more on the feeling of that large, masculine hand than actually walking. Said hand slid across her back and around her waist to steady her.
    “Are you okay?”
    Holy moly, no. No, she wasn’t, because now she was pressed directly against his side, and she could feel his lean muscles and even more heat.
    “I’m sorry,” she managed to say, “I’m a klutz on the best of days, and I suddenly felt a little dizzy.”
    She expected a cocked eyebrow or knowing look. But instead, he just continued to keep her tucked against his side, and he stated, “Well, then we’d better get you something to eat.”
    “I—I don’t think that’s it,” she told him, finding it hard to focus on anything but the movement of his body against hers.
    “Did you have a decent breakfast?”
    She thought about her pastry. It was a cheese Danish. Cheese was healthy, kinda, sorta, right?
    “It wasn’t too bad,” she lied.
    “Mm-hmm.”
    She immediately felt a little insulted. Just because she was a little fluffy, or maybe a lot fluffy for the fashion world, didn’t give him the right to assume she’d had an unhealthy breakfast. And of course, he would also automatically assume she was hungry now.
    “I’ve seen you eat before,” he said.
    Oh, here we go. Here came the lecture about watching one’s weight, and he was probably going to go into some spiel about the benefits of a macrobiotic diet or some other diet that she could never do. She was a five-time Weight Watchers dropout. She sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to stick with a diet of tofu and wheatgrass. Or something equally unpleasant sounding.
    “And I know you always eat on the go. Grabbing a bite here or there. And usually not enough of anything to even sustain a bird. You need to sit down and actually enjoy a meal.”
    Oh. Her irritation instantly deflated. But a bird? Clearly, he could see that wasn’t true.
    “So we are going to go to my favorite place.”

Chapter Five
    W hen Tristan pulled his Bentley Supersport into the small parking lot of the place that was his absolute favorite restaurant, he could tell Georgia was thinking this must be some kind of a mistake. But he parked and shut off the ignition. She looked around as if some posh little bistro must be hidden around there somewhere. But no.
    “This is it? Your favorite restaurant?” She stared at the neon sign, with part of the name burnt out so it read ILLIE’S BAR AND GRILL.
    “Willie,” he clarified, just in case she missed the darkened W. “It’s my absolute favorite.”
    She looked at the bar