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“I couldn’t sleep…when I closed my eyes, I saw you.”
Darcy’s words whispered against her skin.
Silver felt herself melt under the seductive pull of his words.
“All I could think of was holding you, touching you, kissing you.”
He pulled her flush against him until she could feel every hard, hot inch of him.
She knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn’t resist. Pulling his head down to hers, she opened her mouth, allowing her tongue to tease, to stroke before pressing her lips to his.
She had to get him out of her system. “Darcy, we’re going to exorcise this tension between us with pure, red-hot sex. Just a good roll in the hay.”
“Since we’re in the office, we’ll have to save the hay for another time,” he teased.
Her eyes narrowed. “There can’t be another time. This is it.”
“In that case, I’m going to make sure I do a damn fine job!”
Meg Lacey first discovered romance in the sixth grade when she wrote her own version of Gone with the Wind. However, her writing career didn’t last. Instead, she went into theater, earned her degree and, over the years, has been an actress, director, copywriter, creative dramatics teacher, mime, mom, college instructor and school bus driver. Currently she is president of her own television and interactive media company, writing and producing in all media from film/video to print. Meg lives in Ohio, where she is currently working on a number of fiction and nonfiction projects.
Books by Meg Lacey
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
734—SEXY AS SIN
865—A NOBLE PURSUIT
HARLEQUIN DUETS
13—MAKE ME OVER
SILHOUETTE YOURS TRULY
IS THERE A HUSBAND IN THE HOUSE?
DID YOU SAY BABY?!
Million Dollar Stud
Meg Lacey
MILLS & BOON
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My husband and daughters—for their laughter, excouragement and always being there when necessary. And who never hesitate to kick me in the behind when I need it.
Contents
1
RICHARD D’ARCY KRISTOF, heir to the Kristof family fortune, strode into a private library at his country club, removed his bow tie with a jerk and quickly unbuttoned his collar. “That’s better. I hate these monkey suits.’’ He took the glass of smooth aged bourbon his older cousin, Nicholas Demetries, handed him, and downed the contents in one gulp, handing it back for another shot.
Nicholas chuckled and refilled the glass. “Rough night, Cousin?”
Darcy scowled. “If I had to dance with one more debutante, or listen to one more proud parent telling me how lovely their…whoever…is, I would have jumped off the balcony.”
The Tremont twins paused in setting out the poker chips and cards. “Wouldn’t have done you any good,” Tommy said. “Not if you were thinking suicide. The balcony is only five feet off the ground.”
“Yeah,” Terry agreed. “Worst that would happen is you’d break a leg and end up in the barberry bushes.”
Nicholas, tall, handsome and immaculately dressed in summer formal attire, clasped his cousin’s shoulder. “Then all those lovely debutantes you’re trying to avoid would be banging on your door trying to give the ‘millionaire stud’ some comfort.”
“God forbid.” With a twist of his lips, Darcy sat down at the table and drew the deck of cards toward him. “And don’t call me that. You know how much I hate that idiotic—”
Nicholas smiled. “The press has to sell their stories any way they can, Cousin.”
“Tell you what, Darcy,” said Tommy. “If you need help with that mob of women who’re always chasing you, I’m at your service.”
“Me, too,” echoed Terry.
Darcy began dealing, snapping the cards off and zipping them across the table to the respective players. “Be
