“How do you like it, Victoria?” Jake whispered.
“What do you mean?” Tori barely recognized her own voice. Deep. Husky. Sexy.
Drawing back, Jake gave her a lazy smile. “This was your idea. How do you like it…a little rough?” He gripped her waist and forced her back until she was against the bedroom wall, then he pushed his tongue between her lips.
Just as quickly, he withdrew to lightly nibble the side of her mouth, releasing her to cup her face in his hands, giving a gentle but very satisfying kiss.
“Or slow and tender?”
It took Tori a moment to catch her breath. “Well…if you really want to spend the night analyzing the situation, we should put our clothes back on,” she quipped, dipping a couple of fingers into his boxers.
“I’ve gotta admit, Ms. Whitford—” his gaze surveying her lips, then her breasts “—you turned out mighty fine.”
She kneaded the muscles along his upper arms, ran her palms down to his backside. When she reached for, then stroked, his erection, she replied, “Well, Mr. Conners, I’m happy to say the same about you….”
Dear Reader,
This book will always remind me of my recent move. Yes, I know I said that before, and for four years I actually stayed put. Pretty good for me. But then my sister decided to move here from Hawaii, and while helping her look for a place I discovered this awesome model town house nearby. In six days my house was sold and there was no turning back.
It didn’t matter that the new house was late on completion or that this book was due—I had to plow ahead, grumbling to my sister that it was all her fault. I even named the heroine’s sister after the sales rep, and the heroine’s last name is the name of the model of home I purchased. Not to mention that two of the guys her mom tries to fix her up with are named for the other two town house models! Oh well, the new place is finally finished! And this book is done and I sure hope you enjoy it!
Did I say what a peach my editor is? Kathryn was wonderfully patient through the entire ordeal. Even though it took an act of Congress to reach me.
Debbi Rawlins
He’s All That
Debbi Rawlins
This is for my sister, Earlette.
I can’t wait for you to get here.
And for the real Mallory.
Your humor and wit made the wait tolerable. Thank you.
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
Epilogue
1
“ISABELLE, bring me my social calendar along with another pot of tea.”
Victoria Whitford sighed at the boorish way her mother spoke to their longtime housekeeper. The woman was practically part of the family, for God’s sake. She’d been ready with a Band-Aid the first time Tori had scraped her knee.
“Thank you,” Tori added for her mother, not that Marian Whitford noticed the subtle criticism.
Isabelle smiled. “Would you like some vanilla wafers with your tea, Tori?”
“My God, don’t call her that horrid name. It’s Victoria.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Whitford.” Isabelle scurried out of the sitting room, her sensible black shoes treading lightly over the polished wood floors.
“I like Tori, Mother.”
“That is not the name your father and I gave you.”
“Nevertheless, I suggest you get used to it.”
Her mother glared in disbelief. Her sister Mallory laughed.
Marian turned on her older daughter. “What do you find so amusing?”
She looked away and brought the martini glass to her lips.
“Don’t look away while I’m speaking to you.”
Tori waited for her sister to make a snide remark. But the only sign of her old defiance was a slight lift of her chin as she turned her attention back to their mother.
“Put that glass down. What have I told you about drinking so early in the day?”
With a sinking heart, Tori watched Mallory obey. Not that she approved of her sister’s drinking, something that she’d done quite a bit since Tori had gotten home three days ago, but she hated to see her spirited sister look so broken.
Having been away for seven years had really shed a different light on the home front. Even though Tori had spent half her life at boarding school, when she’d returned home for holidays and summers she’d never noticed her mother’s domineering attitude. Of course Tori had always been the obedient daughter and seldom her mother’s target.
“Is that couch new?” she asked, wanting to change the subject, yet seriously interested in the answer.
Her mother reared her head back, her carefully made-up blue eyes widening. “That piece belonged to your great-grandmother. It’s been in the family for generations.”
“Oh.” It was ugly. Burgundy velvet, trimmed with gold, obviously an antique, probably valuable. Tori hated it. “Is it comfortable?”
“For God’s sake, you don’t sit on it.”
Tori
