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Invitations To Seduction
By Vicki Lewis Thompson Carly Phillips Janelle Denison Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.
Copyright © 2003 Harlequin Enterprises Ltd. All right reserved. ISBN: 0-373-83574-4
Chapter One
Illicit Dreams by Vicki Lewis ThompsonMay
Hunter Jordan was getting some ... again.
Lindsay peered at the lighted dial of her alarm clock. Sheesh. He'd had highly orgasmic sex less than an hour ago. At least that's what Lindsay had concluded from the breathless cries of his girlfriend and his own groan of satisfaction. Now they were starting over. What was with the man?
Or more to the point, who was with the man? A very lucky woman, that's who. A blond 38D of a woman, as she'd once seen with her own eyes. Meanwhile Lindsay, a 32B who hadn't had sex - orgasmic or otherwise - since she'd moved here last year, was forced to listen to the steady thump-thump-thump of Hunter's headboard hitting the wall that separated their apartments.
Well, okay, she wasn't exactly forced to listen. She could go into her living room, turn up Sting on the stereo and drown them out, which she'd done during their first go-round. Sort of. Towards the end she'd snuck back into her bedroom to catch the grand finale, pathetic creature that she was. Judging from the way his girlfriend had reacted during their six-month-long relationship, Hunter orchestrated really terrific finales.
Lindsay had to take her kicks where she could findthem.
Apparently Hunter was about to create another big fat O for Silicon Sally. She knew because the moaning had commenced. No man had ever made Lindsay moan like that. Well, unless she counted the time that idiot Sherman had mashed her head up against the headboard, repeatedly, and nearly given her a concussion before he realized she was crying for help and not begging him to thrust harder.
Hunter would never make that kind of miscalculation. Anybody could tell he understood women from the way he'd photographed them for this month's swimsuit issue of Instant Replay. Lindsay was pretty sure his girlfriend was the one in the purple bikini on the cover. It was hard to tell since she tended not to parade outside Hunter's apartment in a string bikini, but her chest measurements were about right and her face had the high-cheekbone look of a professional model.
Oh, yeah, Hunter understood women, at least according to the cries of feminine pleasure coming through the wall. They escalated in pitch and reached a stirring crescendo. Lindsay was damned stirred, herself. She waited for Hunter to add his deep groans to the mix, but instead the girlfriend started gasping once again, running her words together - yesohyesohyes - in a clear indication that Hunter was going for a multi.
Lindsay flung the covers aside and got out of bed, heading for the living room and her stereo. Banging her fist on the wall wasn't an option. She'd been listening to this symphony two or three times a week for six months now, and banging on the wall at this point would let Hunter know she'd been playing voyeur.
She should just buy a vibrator and be done with it, but going down that road was admitting she really wasn't going to have sex with a guy for a very long time. As a perennial optimist, Lindsay kept hoping that wasn't true.
Stomping into the living room, she flipped on her CD player and jacked up the sound, operating by the light from a street lamp outside the window. Then she decided to eat a banana for the oral satisfaction. God, she needed a boyfriend. Hell, she needed a date.
Unfortunately, last year's decision to stop catching guys on the rebound had seriously narrowed the field. Her best friend Shauna said it was her nurturing Cancer personality at work. Whatever the reason, she had a real gift for attracting men who'd been recently dumped. Then, after she'd healed their broken hearts, the schmucks moved on. Apparently they didn't like being reminded that once upon a time they'd been extremely vulnerable.
She bit into the banana. Damned poor substitute. Increasingly, the world of men seemed to be divided into the recently dumped and the already involved. Shauna had somehow stumbled upon that rare species, the unattached and unwounded male, and was now engaged to him. Watching Shauna walk around with the satisfied expression of a woman who could have sex whenever she wanted didn't help Lindsay's frustration level any.
As her maid of honor, Lindsay also was required to spend time with Shauna in Divine Events, the wedding shop from hell. Oh, it would be a fabulous place if a girl happened to be having good sex, or even the prospect of good sex. They had this red leather book of sexual fantasies in the reception area, and the pages were meant to be torn out, according to Shauna, who had done her share of tearing. But then Shauna had a guy to act out those fantasies with.
Then there was Lindsay's private torture of living next door to a sex god with bedroom-brown eyes and a body built for loving. Hunter had been part of the already-involved category when he'd moved in, and he was still in that category, damn it. Lindsay couldn't imagine anybody dumping Hunter. He had that killer combo - bad-boy charisma and good-guy charm.
She'd observed the bad-boy charisma from afar, but she'd seen the good-guy charm up close, in the apartment's laundry room. After meeting there by chance one Saturday morning, she and Hunter had discovered they had so much fun talking while the clothes washed that they'd made a habit of it ever since. Therefore she could never, ever let him know that she could hear him having sex through their shared apartment wall. Too embarrassing.
And man-oh-man, did he have sex. Even over Sting at mega-decibels, Lindsay could hear the wild cries, both bass and treble this time, as Hunter and his chesty girlfriend shared their climactic moment. No doubt about it, Lindsay had to get a vibrator ... or a genuine, testosterone-laden, certified-to-make-you-come, ready and extremely willing man.
(Continues ... )
Excerpted from Invitations To Seduction by Vicki Lewis Thompson Carly Phillips Janelle Denison
Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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