Kitabı oku: «Full House Seduction»

Brock sped up, passing Noelle by a full body length as he reached his long arm out and tapped the swimming pool wall almost thirty seconds before she did

Noelle came up behind him, heart hammering in her chest. If she was going to lose, it had better be to someone who was strong enough to race at their full potential.

The race had been exhilarating and she was pumped. So much so that she had completely forgotten about Brock’s reward until the moment he came closer, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her against his chest.

“Now the winner takes the prize,” he said, lowering his head until their lips were a breath apart.

His tight grip around her waist and the close proximity of their bodies felt so right. If this was always the prize, Noelle might be tempted to lose more often.

A.C. ARTHUR,

an award-winning author, resides in Maryland with her husband and three children. She’s had a love of reading, romance novels in particular, since she was a teenager, and writing was the natural next step. Determined to bring a new edge to romance, she continues to develop intriguing plots, sensual love scenes, racy characters and fresh dialogue—always keeping readers on their toes! AC loves to hear from readers via e-mail at acarthur22@yahoo.com.

Full House Seduction
A.C. Arthur

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Pier and Paris, you hold a very special place

in my heart.

Dear Reader,

Noelle Vincent has been an essential character in the previous Donovan books. Now it’s finally her turn to find love! Feisty, courageous and often impetuous, Noelle has come a long way since her introduction in Jade and Linc’s story as the screwed up younger sister. Now that Noelle’s strapped with a college degree, a high-paying, high-profile job and a killer body, Brock Remington doesn’t stand a chance.

Brock, the adopted cousin of the infamous Donovan brothers, was a case to solve all by himself. With his tattered past and his solitary thoughts, he became the best candidate for Noelle’s partner. Their differences draw them together, while their individual challenges ultimately seal their fate. It was an absolute pleasure getting them together.

In this story you’ll also see some old favorites: Linc, Adam, Jade and Trent. Maxwell Donovan also makes another appearance and you’ll be introduced to a few new members of the Donovan clan—Bailey and Brandon, Brock’s twin siblings. And, as if I haven’t already given you enough to think about, Sam Desdune from Guarding His Body has once again stepped in to help his partner, Trent, and catches the attention of Karena Lakefield. I hope you enjoy Full House Seduction.

Stay tuned to the Donovans as they join forces with other high-powered, strong and loyal African-American families such as the Desdunes, the Bennetts and the Lakefields of Manhattan.

Happy reading!

AC

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

Chapter 1

How did I get here? Noelle Vincent asked herself as she settled into the soft leather seats of the Donovan jet.

Her bags had been stowed, her laptop and briefcase were lying in the seat beside her and her temples pulsed with a budding headache.

Glancing out the window, she swallowed, then took a deep breath. She was not a fan of flying, so flying across country definitely was not on her “to do list.” Her brother-in-law knew that and for some insane reason simply did not care.

“Break down your barriers,” he’d told her simply. He was always saying things like that to her, giving her endless advice and motivation. “Your life would be so much fuller if you’d open yourself up to truly living it.”

Noelle had thought about his words for the rest of that evening, and in the morning had begun packing. She’d never been this far away from home before, never been this much on her own. But Linc had confidence in her. He believed she could handle this job, that she could manage his new casino on her own.

Twenty-four months ago, Linc had believed that she could learn the business of running a casino, so much so that he’d insisted she enroll at the local community college, taking business courses by day while working right beside him at the Gramercy Casino in their hometown of Las Vegas at night. When she’d graduated with her AA degree he’d promoted her, telling her that this was just the beginning. Noelle had been nervous then, too, but Linc had insisted she was going to succeed. And she had.

He’d had faith in her then, when she was nothing but a screwup, so his continued trust in her abilities now were not to be taken lightly. That’s why she was on this plane, flying across country, because Linc had put her there and he expected her to, once again, succeed. She would not let him down.

Lincoln Donovan, oldest son of Beverly and Henry Donovan, whose name was like a household word in Las Vegas due to their generous charitable contributions and philanthropic work, was sexy and arrogant. He was the owner of the Gramercy Casino and married to Noelle’s older sister, Jade. Linc and Jade—about two months ago—just had their first set of twins, Torian and Tamala, who were just about the cutest little girls Noelle had ever seen. The birth had been an occasion with Linc’s younger brother and his fiancée, Adam and Camille; his parents; Max and Ben, the Donovan cousins; and Noelle and Linc all squeezed into Jade’s birthing room. When the moment they’d all been waiting for finally came, the guests were escorted out, all except Linc, Noelle, Beverly and Henry. It had been emotional and uplifting to watch her sister bring life into the world.

And it had been heartbreaking.

No, not really heartbreaking, more like eye-opening. Here she was, Noelle Olivia Vincent, a twenty-six-year-old college graduate, still living with her big sister and still unwed, without any prospects.

And now sitting on a plane, fastening her seat belt and trying like hell to keep her breakfast in her stomach where it belonged.

How did she get here? Not on this plane per se—because she’d already answered that one—but here, at this point in her life. That question had been on her mind more and more these days.

In the immediate sense she had an answer.

Her destination was Maryland, the Eastern Shore, near a town called St. Michaels to be exact. After all the site searching she’d done in L.A. and San Francisco, Linc had decided the extension of his famous casino would be on the east coast. Most likely because his brother Trent and Trent’s friend Sam Desdune had just successfully opened a private investigation firm, one on the east coast and one on the west. Linc liked the idea of having the Donovan name represented on both sides of the country, and since he had family in Maryland, that was the logical choice.

Noelle had been working for Linc at the Gramercy since she’d lost five thousand dollars in the casino and her sister, Jade, had bargained with Linc to work it off. That little bargain had opened the door to Jade’s happily ever after. The thought never failed to make Noelle smile.

Now, two years and a college degree later, Noelle was a fantastic manager; Linc had said so himself. And he had shown his confidence in her by sending her to oversee the building and opening of the Gramercy II, the new casino she still wished were going to be in L.A.

Still, in the past couple of years Noelle had learned to take new developments in stride. And where the Donovan men were concerned, there was always something new. Trent and Tia were the newest of surprises. Who would have ever thought that Trent Donovan with his military training and fanatical outlook would end up with a beautiful supermodel? Noelle certainly didn’t but had to admit that after spending some time with Tia in L.A. and getting to know her, she was the perfect match for Trent. Now they were expecting a baby and planning to get married. Trent had wanted a quick ceremony, but Tia refused to steal Camille’s spotlight. Camille and Adam had just been married two weeks ago. Now, Noelle presumed, Trent would finally get Tia to agree to a quickie ceremony. And they’d better let her know when so she could fly back for the festivities.

They were her family now, the Donovans and their wives, complete with their notoriety and connections. Noelle hadn’t had family in a long time and didn’t want to be away from them for too long.

Karena Lakefield, Noelle’s best friend, even though she spent most of her time traveling the world as a buyer for her family’s art museum, had insisted this was an excellent opportunity for Noelle. But Noelle knew what she really meant. It was a good time to get away from Vegas, from Luther and the whirlwind of drama he’d inflicted on her life.

For that, Noelle would endure the long flight and the summer months on the shore. She would endure the frizzy hair she was likely to sport as a result of the humidity and salt water combined. She would handle being away from her twin nieces and her big sister and the men she’d come to know and love as brothers.

She would go to Maryland and work like hell to once again prove that she could succeed in business, even if not in love.

Time was wasting and if there was one thing Brock Remington hated, it was wasting time.

Looping his thumbs in his belt loops he stood, legs spread, jaw clenching, eyes glued to the runway. Linc said the plane should be pulling in at four-thirty. It was five minutes to five. He should have had her—the site manager—in tow and been on his way back to his house by now. Instead he was standing here in the middle of the private hangar where it seemed too many damned people mulled about, talking and laughing and generally getting on his nerves.

Brock was a loner, raised by Albert and Darla Donovan, oil tycoons and his adoptive parents, who already had fraternal twins, Brandon and Bailey. He wasn’t a Donovan by blood—in his estimation the relation came only by pity. His biological parents had a tumultuous relationship at best, from their family feud to the secret marriage and finally the scandal that rocked the small Cambridge, Maryland, town where they lived. The Remingtons became known throughout the town when Brock’s father, Jure Remington, was brutally murdered and his mother, Tarine, literally lost her mind, leaving Brock a ward of the state because neither his maternal or paternal grandparents wanted anything to do with him. At ten years old, Brock was alone in the world. That is until Albert and Darla Donovan, who were friends of Brock’s parents, rescued the angry and confused boy and took him to live in Texas. For that, Brock was grateful. Living with the Donovans was clearly better than having to spend his formative years in foster care.

Still, he was not a Donovan. A fact Brock was sure to remember. Always.

The moment he’d graduated high school Brock had headed to college in Maryland. And after school he’d stayed there without any fuss from Albert, who by that time was living alone in Houston because Darla had died two years prior from breast cancer. A part of Brock had wanted to go back, to stay with the man who’d been a father to him. But Albert wasn’t hearing it. He told Brock he had his own life to lead and he’d think less of him if he didn’t lead it. That’s what Brock had always loved about Albert—he was honest and keen and did what was best for others, despite what he wanted for himself.

The sense of never truly belonging anywhere or with anyone manifested in Brock so that now, at almost thirty-two years old, he was resigned to being alone and not looking to change that situation.

Soon after college Brock opened Remington Construction with money from a trust fund that had been set up for him by his birth parents upon his birth. He’d built his home overlooking the sparkling waters of the Chesapeake Bay, just outside the small town of St. Michaels, and he was living his life just the way he wanted to.

Until today.

Lincoln Donovan was his cousin, an astutely intelligent man with a mind for business and a desire to make money. Brock could relate to both things on a baser level. He wasn’t money hungry, but he lived comfortably on his trust fund and the profits from his construction company. He knew how to run a business and how to keep the money flowing in, but he was more focused on the contentment and stability that having his own brought.

Linc had given Brock a brief overview about the current manager at the Gramercy in Las Vegas. She was Linc’s sister-in-law, the younger sister of his wife, Jade. She was a recent college graduate with a sharp mind and an eye for detail. She was also a spitfire with a great sense of humor. The latter didn’t matter to Brock—he was only concerned with her work attributes.

“When I decided to open another casino, I knew instantly she’d be the one to run it,” Linc had said in one of their many phone conferences. Since Jade’s last month of the pregnancy Linc hadn’t been able to travel, so he and Brock had weekly updates scheduled to go over the Gramercy II’s progress.

Building this casino had definitely been a coup for Brock because his company specialized mostly in vacation homes. Brock, along with his best friend, Kent Foster, an architect of the highest caliber, set out to create a casino unlike any ever built before in the continental U.S. And after yesterday’s walk-through he was proud to say they’d done a damn good job.

Now, he was waiting for the site manager, hoping his beautifully designed and built casino wasn’t about to go through the onslaught of female scrutiny. Granted, Kent’s wife, Josette, was an interior designer and had already been slated to work on the casino’s basic design scheme. But Brock knew Josette, had known her for more than five years now, and they worked well together. Outside of Linc’s praise, he didn’t know the site manager or how well they’d work together.

Brock was wary of strangers, outsiders from his world. Some would say that was odd having been the outsider all his life. All Brock knew was that his generally solitary lifestyle worked for him. The less interaction he had with people he didn’t know, the better.

Besides that, he didn’t want anybody coming along slowing down his progress. Linc wanted the Gramercy II up and running by September, no later than October. He wanted as much holiday money spent in the casino as possible. It was already early June. If this site manager’s eye for detail meant she was prone to start fussing about wallpapers and paints and who knew what else, then Brock and this project were definitely in for a long summer.

“Hi. I’m Noelle Vincent. I think you’re expecting me.”

Brock heard the voice and snapped out of his reverie. He’d been so focused on his thoughts, so intent on what he didn’t want this manager from the west coast to do to his casino that he hadn’t even noticed the plane had landed. With a sharp movement he turned and was quickly face-to-face with her.

She’d extended her hand and was smiling up at him, obviously waiting for him to act or get lost. He chose the former and cleared his throat. “Yes. I’m Brock Remington,” he said, reaching to clasp her hand.

Damn, it was soft.

He’d been hoping that her million-watt smile and sparkling light brown eyes weren’t actually as attractive as he’d first thought. But coupled with her soft hands and that sweet buttermilk complexion, he was dead wrong. His earlier projection was now corrected—this was going to be a long, hot summer.

Chapter 2

“Nice to meet you, Brock. Linc told me a lot about you.” She adjusted her purse and a smaller bag on her right shoulder.

“Oh, really? I don’t even want to know the specifics.”

She laughed. Brock liked the sound.

Her hair, hanging just past her shoulders in three intriguing shades of brown, all intertwined to create its own enticing rainbow, slipped back, revealing a long slender neck. Brock’s entire body heated. Even living a solitary life he still made time to enjoy a woman on occasion and this was definitely a woman he could enjoy.

With that thought his brow furrowed and his hands slipped into his pockets. The last thing he should be thinking about was enjoying the woman he was supposed to work with. He cleared his throat. “We should get going.”

“Lead the way,” she said in a voice that was way too chipper for the way he was beginning to feel.

“Wow, it’s almost as warm here as it was back in Vegas,” Noelle said the moment they stepped outside of the small airport.

Brock walked a step or two in front of her, not intending to be rude, rather trying to keep his mind on business where it should be. Although not blood related, Brock was just as intense and notorious when it came to a good-looking woman as the rest of the Donovan men.

The sound of her voice growing louder clued him in to how ill mannered he must appear, and so he slowed down until she caught up. A breeze, warm and thick, sifted through the air. The scent of her perfume went right up into his nose and he sighed.

“My truck’s just over here,” he said, directing her toward the parking lot.

As she walked beside him he noticed how tall she was. At six feet two inches, the top of most female heads came midchest to Brock. Noelle, however, was at shoulder level, which was actually the perfect kissing height. The minute that thought crossed his mind, Brock knew he was doomed.

“It was ninety-three degrees when I left Vegas, with eighty-five percent humidity,” she was saying when Brock had to blink quickly and refocus once more.

Lifting a hand she pulled her hair together, then fanned the back of her neck. “What’s it here, about one hundred percent humidity? I thought that since you were close to the Chesapeake Bay, it would be much cooler.”

Brock took a deep breath, inhaling the sultry air of which she spoke. He needed to get a grip. She just stepped off the plane and was being nothing but cordial to him and here he was with the beginnings of sexual thoughts about a woman he’d known less than ten minutes.

“The evenings are cooler,” he added, quickly cringing inwardly because he felt his remark sounded idiotic. “Here we are.” Grateful, he unlocked the doors to his Ford F-350 truck and stood at the passenger side ready to help her up.

“Great ride,” she commented, and there was that smile again.

Brock felt it, as plainly as she felt the heat, that little tug in his gut as her mouth spread wide, her high cheekbones made even higher. And her eyes—he’d heard it said before that eyes sparkled, he’d even seen it written in the poetry he’d been forced to read in his literature class in college. Yet Brock had always found the euphemism sappy and unrealistic, until today. Until Noelle.

Damn, he’s uptight, Noelle thought the minute he slammed the door.

Pulling her seat belt over her chest and making it click, she shook her head. He was also fine as hell. Normally the rugged look wasn’t her preference, but then she’d never seen a man wear a pair of jeans the way Brock Remington did. He walked with a slow precision that put you in mind of hot summer days, winding porches with white wicker furniture and tall glasses of lemonade. With his tight ass and a slow eastern drawl she’d bet there were women lined up to date him.

Okay, calm down, that’s the absolute last thing she should be thinking.

Once inside he immediately started the truck and Noelle looked out the window, giving up on casual conversation. She’d broached the usual subject, the weather, and he’d just about brushed it off, opting for more clipped answers than actual participation. So if he wanted to be quiet, she could oblige. She had a lot of things going on in her life that could bear thinking over.

Not that she was a fan of giving her problems a lot of thought. Then again, the way she’d been dealing with things so far hadn’t proved successful, so why not go for the change now?

Surprise, surprise, what should be the first issue to come to mind? Luther Simmons. Now that was a chapter Noelle was glad she’d finally closed the book on. As hot and intense as their affair had been, its demise followed a similar suit. Luther had come into her life like a whirlwind. She’d met him one night at the casino, watched him lose a few grand at the blackjack table without breaking a sweat, then stopped by to speak to some of the regulars and ended up leaving the table with him. He’d waited for her to finish with her shift, at which time they’d shared her favorite cappuccino and chocolate chip cookies that evening at the restaurant.

She’d been instantly overwhelmed by his charm and his quick wit. Surely a man like this couldn’t be a free agent, Noelle distinctly remembered thinking. And yet the next evening when Luther showed up at the blackjack table once more she’d been elated to see him. The physical aspect of their relationship happened fast, too fast, and before she knew it she was spending all of her free time in Luther’s arms.

Finally, as were so many things in her life, her time with Luther became too good to be true. And before the end of the second month that they’d been together she found out he was married.

Leaving him alone had been a no-brainer at that point; unfortunately, Luther was the hard-headed type. For the next four weeks he’d bombarded her with phone calls and gifts and then the pop-ups at her job started. Afraid that Linc, or worse, Trent Donovan, the ex-Navy SEAL turned private investigator with a fuse as short as her baby finger, would find out, and on the advice of her friend, Karena, she’d obtained a restraining order. Somebody probably should have warned her that those pieces of paper were just about worthless when it came to a man like Luther.

He wasn’t your typical stalker in that he wasn’t slashing her tires or breaking into her house—which would have been almost suicidal, since she still lived with Jade and Linc. No, instead, Luther sent her text messages, e-mails and letters by mail, all asking her to give him another chance, to give their love another chance. Luther was definitely not a threat—he was what they called a lover, not a fighter. So in the twisted world of stalkers, Luther was very low on the totem pole and Noelle was not afraid of him.

What she was, however, was tired. Sick and tired, to be correct, of all the drama. It seemed as if her entire life had revolved around the word. Whether she was a magnet for it or somehow thrived from the chaos, it was always there.

She’d told Jade a little bit about Luther, only because her sister was a constant worrywart where she was concerned and when she overheard a heated conversation Noelle was having on the phone with Luther, she’d questioned her. Jade had wanted to run directly to Linc, but Noelle had stopped her. Thank God.

The last thing she wanted was to bring this type of mess into the Donovan family. They’d all been so nice and loving to her over these past two years that she owed them so much more than to have some crazy married man trying to win back the affection she’d so foolishly given him.

“Cheer up. My house is air-conditioned,” Brock said as he watched her still sitting in the seat staring straight ahead. He’d gotten out of the car and had been holding the door open for a few minutes now, waiting for her to get out.

When she still hadn’t moved he touched a hand to her arm. She jerked, then those hypnotic eyes found his. He swallowed and willed himself not to have any other reaction. “You all right?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice just a little agitated because for a moment she’d forgotten where she was and who she was with. “I’m fine.” Pulling her arm out of his reach, she jumped down from the cab.

And just like that she moved past him, walking along the pathway toward the side door of his house. Taking her luggage out of the car, Brock figured that whatever was on her mind was her business. The fact that she now looked almost haunted shouldn’t have bothered him. And yet, it did.

His house was gorgeous. As far as spacious rooms, hardwood floors and a terrific view of the water went. However, it was a little on the empty side where furniture was concerned.

The concept that less meant…well, less, continued on into the kitchen where alongside the stainless steel appliances and on top of the blue-flecked granite countertop was a coffeemaker, with the smallest coffeepot Noelle had ever seen. Next to the pot was a medium-sized canister of decaffeinated coffee in a pretty average brand. There was a dishwasher but it looked barely used, no fingerprints at or near the handle as you’d usually see with stainless steel. Beside the dish drainer to the right of the double sink she spied a mug, one bowl and one spoon inside it, probably left over from his breakfast. It was quite neat for the kitchen of a man, riding close to the definition of sterile. However, it fit right along with Brock’s seemingly uptight demeanor.

But it was when they walked out onto the screened porch with its brick-encased fireplace that Noelle felt something slightly different. The furniture was made of heavy oak with deep, inviting cushions in a soft caramel tone. Rugs, not Oriental but plush and functional, aligned the tiled floor. There were coffee tables and end tables, but they only held lamps and the remote control to the entertainment system that lined one entire wall, she assumed. The fireplace looked well used, just as the chair closest to it. He sat there, she imagined, put his feet up on the table and read one of the books stuffed into the bookshelf in the living room.

“You spend a lot of time out here?” she asked, letting her hand touch the softness of the chair before sitting down.

“I do,” he admitted with a slightly questioning tone.

“You’re not a man of many words, are you?” Noelle asked, already assuming she’d get another one- to two-word response.

“I get by.”

She nodded and retained a knowing grin. This was going to be a long, dismal summer for her—getting by on his sparse answers and trying to make sense of them.

“So let’s talk about the casino,” she said because there was no use trying to discuss anything else. Brock Remington was not a talker. That was fine—she wasn’t here to talk or to get to know him. She was here to work and that’s all she planned to do, no matter how well he wore his jeans.