Every girl's fantasy...one woman's dream.
Speed, Book 1
Sophie Butler is sure she's about to lose her much-needed cleaning job. She's not only walked in on a guest--a violation of her employer's cardinal rule--but she can't seem to tear her gaze away from his gorgeous, naked-as-the-day-he-was-born body.
If all that isn't bad enough, her usually sensible judgment and behavior are clouded by a nagging sense of familiarity. She knows the man from somewhere, she just can't quite place him.
Nathan Pace is certain he's just lost his jealously guarded anonymity. But hold on...if she's just another fan looking for a piece of his alter ego, rock star Jamie Speed, why is she blushing six shades of scarlet? And why is he instantly aroused? When he catches a glimpse of her eyes, he knows. She's the woman who for ten years has haunted his dreams.
The attraction that flares between them is undeniable--and unstoppable. But getting close means risking Nathan's secret identity. Just this once, he'd like a woman to fall for the real man, not the press's version of a celebrity superstar.
There are no customer reviews available at this time. Would you like to write a review?
October 31, 2011
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from See You in My Dreams by Jess Dee
Shocked all the way down to her toes, Sophie Butler gawked at the man.
She was so going to be fired for this.
She should turn around and beat a hasty retreat. If not hasty, she should back out of the door real slow, and give the guy a little privacy. At the very least, she should have the decency to cover her eyes and stammer out a sincere apology.
So why then did she stand frozen in place with her jaw hanging open and her tongue glued to the bottom of her mouth?
Because she was dazed, that's why. Stunned by the sight that greeted her.
And what a sight. A good six feet of tanned male muscle. Legs that stretched on forever, with slim, powerful thighs. A hard and well-defined stomach that tapered down to lean, square hips. Not to mention the arms, biceps rippling and bunching as he towel-dried his hair.
She swallowed when her gaze drifted between his legs, settling on the decent-sized cock that lay there, shifting slightly with every move he made. Lord, he was perfect. A-gift-from-the-Gods perfect. A belly-rolling, breath-catching, heart-racing perfect.
She'd walked in on a guest, caught him naked and unsuspecting, and he didn't even know she was standing there, eyeballing him.
Was there time to slip out unnoticed? An accessible path of escape before he lowered the towel and caught her? She scanned the bedroom, estimating the number of steps between herself and the door. At least seven, and two of those would take her within touching distance of Mr. Naked-and-gorgeous. God help her, she knew, as any healthy woman in her right mind would know, that if she got within a meter of the guy, she would feel compelled to reach out and run her hands over all that dazzling male skin.
He threw the towel on the floor, ran a hand through his shoulder-length, water-darkened blond hair and opened his eyes. Then jolted as though he'd been struck.
The man gaped at her, horror written all over his face. He looked almost as taken aback as she felt. Like her, he seemed to have lost muscle function, because neither of them moved an inch. Both stood where they were, gawking at each other.
Panic set in. Her heart slammed against her chest at a million miles an hour, blurring her vision.
She was so going to pay for this mistake. She'd broken the cardinal rule of her employment and walked into the apartment while the occupant was there. How many times had she been told, Ensure the guests have absolute privacy. When they are around, you are not. Rooms are cleaned when they are out?
But damn it, she'd knocked three times, loudly, and he hadn't answered. Not on the first knock or the second or the third. So she'd shoved her iPod earphones back in and entered the apartment. Heck, she'd tidied the kitchen and living room before coming into the bedroom. Surely he'd have heard her?
Sophie blinked hard to clear her vision. Refusing to look at his face and see his disapproval there, she--almost unwillingly--scanned his body one more time, noted the wet hair that dripped down his neck and shoulders and the tiny droplets clinging to the light sprinkle of chest hair. Okay, so if he'd been in the shower, he wouldn't have heard anything besides the rushing water. And with the volume of her music turned up, she wouldn't have heard the shower humming.
Either way, this was without a doubt her last day on the job.
Nathan Pace stared at her, perplexed.
Hadn't he rented this apartment because it promised absolute privacy? How the hell had she gotten inside? Bribed the manager with guarantees of sexual favors, like any number of other women before her had done to get close to him? She had the mouth for it. Lush, pouty lips that promised the best damn head a man could want.
He was so tired of being chased down by so-called adoring fans, tired of them finding his every hiding place. Paying top dollar for the luxury unit was a good deal in his book--if it meant staying out of the public eye. Fat lot of good top dollar had done him now.
It didn't matter that the woman was drop-dead gorgeous. That her long, blonde hair was caught in a sexy ponytail, and her curvy body could bring a man to his knees. Never mind the made-to-give-head mouth that gaped now, slack-jawed, showing full, succulent lips, flashes of straight white teeth and a pink tongue.
Never mind any of that. Yes, she had the looks of an angel, but as with so many of the other women who'd tracked him down, she obviously had the scruples of the devil. Why else would she be here, in his bedroom, waiting for him to get out of the shower?
He could not prevent the snarl that started in his throat and erupted from his mouth.
"Oh, crap." She closed her eyes. "I am so going to lose my job for this."
Lose her job? Ah, so maybe she wasn't a groupie after all.
Maybe she was from the press and had come to interview him. Or a member of the paparazzi, grabbing any chance to take a photograph.
He gave her a quick once-over. No camera.
Was that why she'd lose her job? The ultimate photo opportunity, and she'd left her camera behind? He sneered to himself, then watched dumbfounded as she leaned over and picked up a bucket full of...of...cleaning products?
"God, I am so sorry," she mumbled, her face flushing five hues of crimson. The woman refused to meet his gaze. "I knocked a few times, but there was no answer. I, er, thought no one was in."
He couldn't help but notice the way her flawless skin glowed in her embarrassment, the red tinge making her face even more lovely.
She stepped back two paces, looking downright alarmed. "I didn't hear the shower." She lifted up an iPod, showing it to him, then yanked earphones from her ears.
Intense relief flooded him. She was neither a groupie nor from the press.
She took another step back, then gasped as she realized her mistake. The back of her knees connected with the bed, and she collapsed onto it, spilling products from the bucket as she went.
Nathan could not stop the laugh that rumbled through his chest. The woman was here to clean the place, nothing more. This was, after all, a serviced luxury apartment.
"Shit." She swore under her breath, but he heard her and grinned. Of course she was servicing the apartment. On closer inspection he noticed grey smudges on her tight, white sleeveless T-shirt--just above the voluptuous curve of her left breast, and she smelled of... He sniffed the air. Bottled pine? Like the air freshener that now lay on the carpet? Not unpleasant, just not the kind of scent he expected a woman like her would emit.
She should smell like sunshine and roses. Fresh and natural, to match the natural beauty of her face. Not a stitch of make-up to be seen, not even lipstick to make the red lips redder. She didn't need it.
"Shit?" He lifted an eyebrow in question.
She looked nothing less than mortified. "First I walk in on a guest, then I catch him naked..." Her voice trailed off as she dropped her head, glancing down below his waist. If possible, her face grew even redder. But, he noticed, she did not raise her eyes. "And...and then--" still not lifting her head, "--and then I land on his bed, like a bloody idiot."