a reporter, Tori’s observation skills were top notch. She recognized the calm deliberation in his gaze, the calculating mind, the tension in the impressive body that convinced her he was equally aware of her. But instead of checking her out, this guy locked his sex appeal tight under lock and key.
And then she knew exactly what it was about Adam Grant that interested her…well, besides his handsome face.
They were kindred souls.
Once upon a time, Tori’s every waking moment had been spent trying to live up to her family’s expectations. While her surname might be Ford, she was a member of the prestigious Prescott family compliments of her mother, and being a Prescott meant keeping up appearances at all costs. But she’d eventually realized that life was too precious to spend all her time worrying about living up to other people’s expectations.
She’d gotten smart.
People weren’t perfect—except for her mother and sister, who’d mastered the art of appearing that way. But at what cost? They didn’t take time to enjoy their lives. They always wore a smile for the press and never did anything that would risk starting any gossip. They never had any fun, and it was sucking the joy right out of them.
So she’d washed her hands of trying to live up to everyone else’s expectations and decided the only person she needed to satisfy was herself.
And that was why Adam had resonated so strongly with her—he clearly hadn’t learned yet that life was for living. They shared all this incredible chemistry, yet he wore his professionalism like armor.
Could she help him lighten up and enjoy himself?
Tori wanted to answer that question, along with a number of others about what was taking place behind the scenes at Falling Inn Bed. She finally had a chance to prove herself a competent reporter to her managing editor, who’d previously buried her on the municipal beat because she was the senator’s granddaughter.
Until meeting this too-composed man who made her mouth water, she wasn’t sure just how to prove herself, but now Tori knew exactly what she needed to do.
She needed to live the magic of Falling Inn Bed for herself. Then she’d report to her readers and bowl this town over with her journalistic skill and ability to sell newspapers.
And whom better to experience that magic with than the inn’s assistant general manager?
“If you’ll join me, Ms. Ford,” Adam Grant said in a rich, smoothly polished voice that rippled through her like the first sip of really fizzy champagne. “I’ll introduce you to the rest of the management team and bring you up to speed with where we are in the schedule of grand opening events.”
“It’ll be my pleasure to join you, Mr. Grant,” she said with just enough innuendo to blast his cool professionalism straight into personal.
One sable brow lifted before he schooled his expression. But control wasn’t meant to be part of this equation. When he touched her elbow to guide her down a hallway marked Business Offices, Tori felt wired to the man with a current. A quick glance into his dark gaze assured her he felt it, too.
Sometimes, there was just no explaining chemistry. And most of the time, there was no resisting it.
Tori wondered if Adam Grant knew that.
Giving him a smile that said Run for cover!, she felt another thrill when a tiny frown appeared between his brows, a look that convinced her he was expecting the worst from her.
No, this assignment wasn’t turning out to be anything at all like champagne….
1
DIDN’T TORI Ford think about anything but sex?
Adam Grant wished she would, but the local reporter who’d unexpectedly become his escort for the duration of this grand opening didn’t seem interested in much else. She’d made it her life’s quest to teach him to have fun, and sex apparently topped her list of fun pastimes.
While he generally appreciated ambitious, focused women, Tori Ford was beyond ambitious and focused. She was outrageous. Not only had she promised to do whatever it took to get her story, she wanted to experience that story for herself.
She wanted to live the magic of Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast with him.
Adam didn’t get personal with guests or co-workers, and in her current capacity, Tori Ford qualified as the latter.
So here he was, trying to run interference so the grand opening won good reviews, and this reporter’s no-holds-barred tenacity went head-to-head with his no-holds-barred professionalism. Adam had a strict business ethic, honed at the knees of the elderly grandparents who’d raised him.
Business was business. Personal was personal.
By separating the two, his grandparents had run a successful manufacturing operation for over half a century while keeping their marriage equally successful.
He wouldn’t mix business with pleasure. And certainly not with a woman only interested in living her story.
Unfortunately, keeping business and pleasure separated during this grand opening was proving to be a problem. The promotional event inaugurating the new Wedding Wing had been dubbed the Naughty Nuptials for good reason. Every function was designed exclusively for couples, with sex front and center.
The harder he tried to keep their relationship professional in the face of all that sex, the more Tori Ford kept trying to get personal. She saw everything as an opportunity to taunt him into joining the fun.
Like now, for example. While the featured bridal couple posed for photos after the ceremony, Tori had slipped away to her suite to freshen her makeup.
Or so she’d said.
Most women Adam knew didn’t undress to put on mascara, and when he returned to accompany her to the reception, Tori opened her door about as undressed as she could be short of greeting him in the buff. The beaded gown she’d worn to the wedding had been replaced by a transparent robe.
Equally transparent was her ploy to breach the boundaries of professional behavior. Looking back, Adam supposed any request to visit her suite should have been suspect. She’d been using these ploys often enough in the two days of their acquaintance, each time upping the stakes.
Tori Ford scored a big hit this time.
She even looked like sex. All creamy skin and vibrant red hair, she tempted him with slim curves covered in barely there undergarments. The robe only reached the top of her thighs and hung open to reveal more than it concealed.
He was thinking personal now. Despite himself, his gaze dropped from the tumble of bright hair to the beautiful face where midnight-blue eyes watched him and pouty lips pursed to kissable perfection.
She wore a necklace of unusual design. Swirls of gold encircled her neck, with a solitary teardrop emerald dangling toward her cleavage. The silky bra clung to her breasts, muting blush-colored nipples but doing nothing to hide the tight tips pointing to needy little peaks.
He should have had enough self-control to stop there.
He
