He's the One

Linden Bay Romance, LLC
www.lindenbayromance.com

Copyright ©2007 by Jane Beckenham

First published in www.lindenbayromance.com, 2007

NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

HE'S THE ONE

Published by Linden Bay Romance, 2007

Linden Bay Romance, LLC, U.S.

ISBN Trade paperback: 978-1-60202-071-9

ISBN MS Reader (LIT): 978-1-60202-070-2

Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

PDF, PRC & HTML

Copyright © Patricia Jane Beckenham, 2007

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The work is protected by copyright and should not be copied without permission. Linden Bay Romance, LLC reserves all rights. Re-use or re-distribution of any and all materials is prohibited under law.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

Cover art by Beverly Maxwell

"Virginity is overrated,” Taylor Sullivan pronounced, exhaling every pent up emotion she'd bottled for the past twenty-four hours. Ever since she'd seen him, Mr. Perfect-For-The-Job. Pivoting on her heels she gripped her assistant's arm. “This is a mistake."

"No, it's not. You said yourself, he's the one."

"What do I know? I mean,
who
is he?"

"Cade Harper. Bad boy made good—and one sexy hunk. Is that enough for you?” Nita gave her a suggestive grin.

Oh
yeah.

Taylor wiped sweaty palms down the sides of her skirt. “The fairy godmother handing out good looks at his bassinet sure was kind,” she said, remembering the handsome man who'd stood haloed by light streaming in from the stained glass window.

But now, twenty-four hours later as the throbbing beat of music threaded its way into the vestibule where she and Nita waited, Taylor's wayward nerves vaulted into overdrive.

"I should never have told you."

Nita shrugged. “Probably not, but, hey, I get those calls, too."

"But you can answer them,” Taylor countered.

"So, what are you going to do about it, Taylor?"

Taylor bit down on her bottom lip, chewing it as if it afforded her the luxury of time. “I don't want a relationship."

"Who said anything about a relationship? This is a fling. A one-nighter. Get you past first base, so to speak."

First base! Taylor swallowed the lump that choked off her breathing. The icy chill sliding along her bones had nothing to do with Auckland's balmy May evening breeze.

Her fingers grazed the side of her handbag and snapped back as if scalded.

Condoms. An appropriate reminder: preparation and safety first.

She could do this. She could.

She grabbed Nita's arm. “Okay. Let's go."

Nita stalled mid-step. “What? You expect me to come, too?"

"I need you. I can't do this on my own. I need..."

"Cade Harper is who you need, Taylor. You said so yourself. Cade's a love and leave ‘em sort of guy. Don't get caught. Now, go.” Nita gave her a push towards the entrance.

Love and leave. Definitely perfect credentials. Cade didn't know it yet, but he was the answer to Taylor's prayers

Battling the raw panic lodged in her gut, as every second edged her towards turning and running, Taylor surveyed the patrons as they walked past and into the bar. Her hands shook. She wanted to forget the idea. Forget sex. Forget Cade Harper. Instead she focused on the entrance, and her pulse quickened.

The best man. How appropriate.

Cade hadn't been at the wedding rehearsal; otherwise she would have noticed him. But at the wedding, dressed in a black tuxedo that molded his broad shoulders, the crisp white dress shirt with its diamond stud buttons, he absolutely stood out. In a second, she had made her decision. He was perfect for the job.

Squaring her shoulders, Taylor shoved the door open. For a moment, she stood motionless, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting, the noise and heat hitting her in an undulating wave. Taking a deep breath, she clutched her bag and ventured in.

A single length of hand-chiseled wood that operated as a bar spanned one end of the room. Behind it were a medley of liquors and an ornate mirror etched with the words of a famous beer. Tables and chairs dotted around the room were mostly taken. In one corner a jukebox emitted an ear piercing rock band, while an eager group of players surrounded a pool table in another corner.

All this was of little consequence to Taylor, because right there was her quarry—Cade Harper.

He stood behind the bar, a cocktail shaker in one hand and a salt-crusted margarita glass in the other.

He looked good. Tawny, sun bronzed hair that tapered over his collar and the same unruly tendril dipping over his forehead that refused to be controlled.

Very sexy.

No tuxedo tonight, but a black T-shirt with the sleeves rolled back, stretched taut over biceps that flexed and...

Oh, God.

A bad boy.

Taylor wiped a hand across her brow, slaking her tongue across suddenly parched lips. The temperature had escalated several degrees in one blazing second.

Partially hidden by a potted ficus, she watched him, heart dancing an erratic beat.

"Can I help you?"

Taylor spun round.

"I..."

Same coloring, same dark eyes, albeit female, smaller and delicate, but definitely in Cade's image. Taylor glanced toward Cade over the woman's head. “I'm here to see Mr. Harper,” she mumbled.
Mister! Good grief!
She wanted to have sex with this man, and she called him mister!

"Cade?” his replica responded, eyebrows quirking upwards.

Taylor nodded, relieved the woman didn't ask any questions and wondered at the same time what her reaction would have been if she'd said, “It's about sex."

"Follow me.” The young woman crooked her finger toward Taylor, turned and wove her way between tables. With clammy hands and a tangle of trepidation and anticipation colliding inside her stomach, Taylor hurried after her.

"Cade."

"Yeah.” He handed the margarita to a customer and Taylor's gaze followed the salt-rimmed glass. It shimmered under the overhead lighting, and she found herself licking her lips, almost tasting the delicious salt.

"Lady to see you."

The moment Cade turned,
everything
changed. Taylor's voice stalled in her throat, and she knew, when his smiling eyes captured hers, she was in way over her head. He may have been a bad boy, but he was certainly one sexy guy.

Cade wiped his hands on a cloth, and again Taylor's gaze followed. Long lean fingers. Fingers that would touch ...
Oh, boy!

He smiled. “You want to see me?"

She nodded and felt herself drowning in that smile. His dark eyes twinkled, a swirl of gold and chocolate brown. Just like Hershey Kisses.

Kisses!

Yep! She was definitely going under.

"Lady, I don't mean to be rude, but I've got a bar to run,” he said, grabbing a knife and cutting a lemon into wafer thin slices.

Taylor shook herself.
Okay. Come on. Just say it
. “I've got a favor to ask."

"Ask away then,” he said, not looking up.

Taylor burned with embarrassment and eyed the milling crowd. “Actually, it's a proposition."

He definitely looked then, and his gaze focused directly on her. He quietly placed the razor sharp knife on the cutting board. “Sounds intriguing."

Sounds stupid
.

He leaned forward and rested both hands on the bar, the flex and tension in his forearms a powerful tease. Taylor swallowed hard.

"Is there anywhere we can talk—privately?"

"Out back in the den.” He flicked a hand towards a door leading from behind the bar.

"More like going into the lion's den,” Taylor muttered.

"You say something?"

"Ah ... no.” Taylor dropped her gaze. Damn. Why hadn't she chosen a different career? One where her clients didn't ask about sex!

Holding herself stiff and feeling as if all eyes followed her movements, she walked behind the bar. As she brushed past him, the musky scent of his cologne teased her senses. Taylor willed the butterflies dancing a tango in her stomach to abate.

They didn't listen.

No more than a storeroom, with boxes piled high along three of its four walls, and a desk barely visible beneath a pile of papers and computer sheets, this room wore many different hats.

Transfixed to the spot, suddenly every word she'd practiced dissolved from her memory. Cade closed the door behind him, the soft click of the latch echoed a thousand-fold. She spun round. He leaned against the door, arms folded across his formidable chest, his gaze candid.

He looked dangerous—but very delicious.

He spoke first. “Do I know you?"

"Not really.”
Not yet
.

"Shame.” He gave another of his long, lingering smiles, the kind that emphasized the dimples either side of his sexy mouth. It set her toes curling and her body pulsing.

The temperature gauge hit jackpot, and Taylor felt very much out of her depth.

Here goes.

"I'm Taylor Sullivan. We didn't meet—exactly, at Brianna Bennett's wedding. I was her planner.” She jerked out her hand. Cade took it in his, warm strong fingers enveloping hers. The tips were slightly calloused and the friction sent a cortege of goose bumps skittering across her heated skin. Taylor willed herself not to yank her hand from his and held herself in check.

"You touting for another wedding to plan?” Cade pushed away from the door, dwarfing the room. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of jeans that skimmed his long muscular thighs. “If you are,” he said, twisting to face her. “Sorry, but marriage and I don't mix."

Taylor tightened her grip on her bag, desperate to silence the slamming of her heartbeat. “So I heard."

"You've heard more about me than I have of you,” he replied.

A hint of a smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “You're quite well-known, Mr. Harper. Successful and entrepreneurial."

"I work hard."

"And play hard, so the papers say."

"Gossip and innuendo,” he countered, his steely gaze sizing her up.

A sticky bead of sweat trickled between her breasts. Cade hadn't taken his eyes off her since they'd entered the back room.

That has to be a good thing. Shows he's interested
, her subconscious reminded her.

Taylor shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

It's now or never, Sullivan.

With a deep, soothing, breath, she pulled herself to her full five-foot-ten height and dived in.

"I want you to have sex with me."

Cade's dark eyes bolted wide. “Whoa."

Surprised? Absolutely.

Heat suffused Taylor's cheeks. “Oh, hell, this is stupid.” How dumb could she be? She reached for her bag, but the over-laden carry-all slid from her fingers and upended, scattering its contents across the floor.

Taylor gasped and for one, long, drawn out second, she simply stared. Her breath strangulated in her throat, and a furious heat burned behind her eyes. There, right at Cade's feet, lay her box of condoms.

"Stupid, stupid.” Blinking back tears, she stumbled to her knees and gathered everything as fast as she could. Cade reached the condoms the second before she did.

"You must be a good Girl Scout,” he said and passed the box to her. Their fingers touched. Their eyes met. Holding. She couldn't breathe. All the oxygen had been sucked from her lungs and her heart beat franticly.

She pulled away, shaking her head, struggling for a semblance of practicality.

"Always be prepared. Isn't that their motto?” Cade chuckled

This was bad. Really bad. Mortified, Taylor refused to look at him, and kept her lips firmly closed. She shoved the box into her bag and zipped it closed with a resounding tug.

Open up again,
she warned silently
, and you'll be in the rubbish bin.

Straightening, she walked to the door and opened it. Strains of Dr. Hook's “Sexy Eyes” wafted into the small room.

How appropriate! Cade's dark eyes were just that, down right sinful and sexy.

"Wait."

Taylor stiffened and squeezed her eyes shut. “Why?"

"You've just proposed something way out there, Taylor Sullivan, and I want to know why."

Her hand fell from the door, and she slowly turned around. Holding herself in check she fixed her gaze on Cade, keeping it steady, despite her frazzled nerves. “So you can enjoy my embarrassment, tell your mates about this stupid woman who offered sex on a platter,” she countered.

But he didn't laugh. Instead, a deep frown marred his handsome face. “No. You came to me, remember?"

"I know. But why do I feel as if you're the cat toying with the mouse?” Taylor said honestly.