Money Back Guarantee

Slade Martin is under attack. An electronic thief absconded with all his liquid personal wealth and someone on his board of directors is plotting a hostile takeover. The obvious culprit isn't the guilty party, and Slade gets help to find the real perpetrator from a surprise source the lovely and capable Iris D'Vance.

Iris D'Vance is determined to not repeat her mistakes with men until she meets Slade Martin, and decides all bets are off. Accepting the invitation to sit on the board of Slade's charitable foundation lands her in the middle corporate intrigue. Slade needs her help and makes her an offer she can't turn down.

Slade and Iris join forces to unravel the plot to ruin Slade and discover their interest in each other runs deeper than sharing altruistic works. When the person behind Slade's woes is found, it's Iris who's in danger. Slade has to act fast to bring her home safe and make good on his money back guarantee.

* * *

Slade stalked off the elevator, his prey dead center in the crosshairs. Primed and loaded, one word from Ms. Iris D'Vance, and he'd let the hammer fall. Damn her. He sucked in a deep breath to replace the air that whooshed out of his lungs as her appearance burned onto his corneas.

Damn her for standing in front of the windows with the sunlight coming in behind her. Every luscious curve was visible through the backlit fabric of her dress. He'd not seen anything that amazing inwell, he'd never seen anything that amazing. His temper bled away, replaced by a surge of lust. Maybe he needed to rethink his approach, and fast, before she got away with old man Farnsmore.

Iris turned slightly and spotted him. Her eyes widened, she stiffened, then her composure slid back into place. It didn't matter. Slade had seen the sudden interest in her eyes. He held out his hand to her for a friendly handshake.

"Ms. D'Vance, I apologize for getting off on the wrong foot upstairs. I get a little nervous before board meetings."

Iris accepted his hand. Her lips parted. He closed his fingers around hers, noting how cold hers were as he lifted them to his lips.

"I'm sorry. That was forward of me. I hope you'll forgive me."

Her chin lifted, and her lovely hazel eyes took on a new, hard glint.

"I'm sure that well-rehearsed and very tired line still works on some women, but I assure you, I'm not one of them, Mr. Martin."

Slade very grudgingly gave her high marks for honesty. He'd asked for that, and she'd given it to him.

"No, it doesn't work, obviously. I'll have to practice it."

"Not on me, Mr. Martin. Now if you'll excuse me, there's my ride."

Dismissed, for God's sake. Torpedoed.

Dettagli