Praise for New York Times bestselling author
LORI FOSTER
“Say YES! to Lori Foster.”
—Elizabeth Lowell
“Lori Foster delivers the goods.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Known for her funny, sexy writing, Foster doesn’t hesitate to turn up the heat.”
—Booklist
“One of the best writers around of romantic novels with vibrant sensuality.”
—MyLifetime.com
“Foster outwrites most of her peers and has a great sense of the ridiculous.”
—Library Journal
“Foster proves herself as a bestselling author time and again.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Filled with Foster’s trademark wit, humor, and sensuality.”
—Booklist on Jamie
“Foster supplies good sex and great humor along the way in a thoroughly enjoyable romance reminiscent of Susan Elizabeth Phillips’ novels.”
—Booklist on Causing Havoc
“Foster executes with skill…convincing, heartfelt family drama.”
—Publishers Weekly on Causing Havoc
“Suspenseful, sexy, and humorous.”
—Booklist on Just a Hint—Clint
Lori Foster
Bewitched
MILLS & BOON
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CONTENTS
IN TOO DEEP
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MARRIED TO THE BOSS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
To Malle Vallik.
Though you’ll no longer be editing at Harlequin Temptation, you’ll be forever remembered as “one of the great ones.” I take comfort in the fact that your Harlequin Temptation novels will go on, pleasing readers for years to come.
CHAPTER ONE
SHE HAD THE soft, sweet mouth of a woman. And as she bent slightly at the waist, peeking out the front window of the quaint grocery shop, he inspected her bottom—and found it equally sweet. His palms itched, and he wasn’t certain if it was with the need to caress—or swat.
Maybe she was a cross-dresser. Or she just had really bad taste in clothes. But she was definitely female, of that Harry was certain. He hadn’t even noticed her until she’d gotten too close to him, and then he’d picked up on her scent. It made him feel like a buck in mating season, it hit him so hard. He stared, unable to help himself, until she noticed he was staring. Then she gave him a sour look and moved away.
And still he stared. The battered brown leather jacket was a couple sizes too big, ripped at one shoulder seam. And the flannel beneath it was baggy and hanging loose over ill-fitting, patched jeans. Scuffed, low-heel boots with chains on the back gave the impression she was trying for a bad-boy biker look. Absurd. Even her slicked back, glossy dark hair, held in a short blunt ponytail at her nape looked more female than rebel male. She had only one pierced ear, a small spent bullet dangling from the tiny silver hoop.
She kept her hands in her back pockets and a sneer on her face. Harry wondered what she’d done with her breasts, for they weren’t noticeable through the bulky clothing. Of course, maybe she was naturally small. He wouldn’t mind. He was a bottom-man himself, and he liked petite women, he…
Harry drew up short, appalled at the direction his wandering mind had taken. He wanted nothing to do with the woman, absolutely nothing.
Whatever her excuse for aping a man, she didn’t need to be here now, at this precise moment, possibly screwing things up for him, definitely distracting him.
Harry Lonnigan eyed the unfortunate female with annoyance, now dividing his attention between her and the two men working their way to the cash register. He had a job to attend to. Yet there she was, trying to saunter like a man, trying to sneer in a manly way. Harry snorted, then despite himself, he breathed deeply, trying to detect her sweet scent again. Not the smell of perfume, but the smell of warm woman, a smell proven to drive men crazy.
He wanted to ignore her,
