The sizzling new erotic tale from New York Times bestselling author Lora Leigh
Marty Mathews had always known about the secret, forbidden pleasures that the women she had grown up with enjoyed. Women whose husbands or lovers were members of the exclusive "Club," where they took a selected "third" into their beds. And there is one man--a dangerous, forbidden man--who is part of this world and who has haunted Marty's dreams for years. But she had been the FBI agent assigned to shadow him, making him completely off limits. . .That is until Khalid is cleared and Marty is released from her assignment. Now, all bets are off. . .
The beautiful, fierce Marty Mathews is the one woman Khalid hungers for like no other and is the one woman he dare not let himself have. His past dogs his every step and danger lurks around every corner. If he wants to keep her safe, he must stay away from her. But the power of their desire is something they cannot deny--and once Marty is his, Khalid will do whatever it takes to keep her in his bed and in his arms.
Showing 1-3 of the 3 most recent reviews
1 . Finally Khalid story
Posted August 15, 2010 by lucarmi , chicagoI really love this book, I love all her Lora's books surrounding the famous Gentlemens club... If you havent read them you need too...
2 . Finally someone for Khalid
Posted March 04, 2010 by PSU87 , Philadelphia, PAI have loved this character from the first time Lora introduced him. This is one of my favorite series of hers. Keep them coming Lora!
3 . HOT READ!
Posted February 07, 2010 by CF , VA BeachThis is a GREAT addition to the 'Gulity' series. Lora Leigh keeps the mood hot through every chapter. I've loved Khalid from the start and am glad his story has finally been told. Enjoy this erotic romance!!
St. Martin's Griffin
January 04, 2010
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Excerpt from Guilty Pleasure by Lora Leigh
"Traitorous fucking bastard!"
Marty Mathews stared at her boss, division chief Vince Deerfield with a hidden sense of surprise as he threw the thick file on Khalid el Hamid Mustafa across the desk.
The dull, yellow folder hit, slid then fell from the desk to scatter loose sheets of information and pictures at her feet.
Khalid el Hamid-Mustafa. The bastard son of a Saudi sheikh suspected of terrorism. His father, Aziz Mustafa was a religious hard?liner, a man who ruled one of the more barren sections of Saudi Arabia, on the Iraq border. He had tarred his sons with his own brush and in doing so had subjected his bastard son, Khalid, to years of suspicion by the United States.
It was the reason Marty had been tailing Khalid for the past two years. As a FBI agent, one on the low end of the totem pole as far as her boss was concerned, Marty had been stuck playing babysitter and peeping Thomasina to one of the most sexually active men she had ever laid her eyes on.
A dark, brooding, dangerous man. There was no doubt in her mind that Khalid Mustafa would be a very dangerous man to cross.
If she had doubted it, then the information her godfather had given her over the past years would have confirmed it.
There was a reason why she had never reported any of the more suspicious activities Khalid had engaged in. Quite simply, it was be?cause he engaged in them at the orders of her godfather, the director of the FBI.
"No comment?" Vince snarled, his heavy brows lowered, his hazel green eyes spitting fire and brimstone back at her.
"I'm the agent who's followed him for the past two years," she re?plied politely. "As my reports state, there's no evidence to support the suspicion that Mr. Mustafa has any ties to a terrorist community."
Vince threw himself back in his chair and glared at her now. That glare was nerve-racking. It boded ill to any agent on the receiving end of it. Unfortunately, she was the agent in question.
"Two years," he snapped. "I gave you two years, Agent Mathews, to find just a shred of evidence to support the suspicions we have against him. Two years. I could have convicted a five-year-old with that amount of time on my hands."
No doubt he could have, but on the other hand, he wouldn't have had a godfather who was director of the entire FBI going over his reports, editing them and deleting minor points that could have sup?ported that suspicion because Khalid was currently his favorite mole.
"A five-year-old wouldn't have the decadent lifestyle Mustafa has." She rolled her eyes at the thought of it. "I rather doubt the man has the time to consort with terrorists. He's too busy playing with his little friends."
That was more truth than fiction, actually, no matter how much her father liked to smile and deny it.
Her boss stared back at her as though she were a slug under a rock that somehow had dared him to touch. The very fact that he couldn't fire her without bringing down a heavy barrage of interest in his of?fice was only the tip of the iceberg of reasons he hated her.
The man was slowly committing career suicide and didn't seem to have a clue. Her godfather was Zachary Jennings, the director of the FBI and Deerfields boss. She didn't run crying to Daddy Zach, but that didn't mean he wasn't well aware of the treatment she had been receiving in this office since being assigned to it.
"Well, you can stop protesting the assignment," he bit out, his tone malevolent. "You're off. The operation is dead in the damned water, thanks to your godfather and your incompetence. What did you do, go crying to him?"
Marty sat up straighter, a frown snapping between her brows at the accusation she had thought of only moments before. "I've never discussed this assignment with my godfather," she informed him, bristling at the insult, but thanking God that her godfather had taught her how to lie when she was young. "And I stopped crying to him when I was three."
"Then I don't have to worry about a protest on my desk when I tell you that you have to be one of the lousiest agents I've ever had in my division," he stated derisively.
"The only report you have to worry about is the one I may file, sir." Frost filled her voice as she stared back at him, fighting to hide her anger. "Perhaps it wasn't my lack of skill so much as your lack of foresight and inability to accept the fact that Mustafa is guilty of nothing but his own sexual excesses."
She kept her tone respectful. She assured herself there was none of the animosity that brewed inside her leaking into her tone.
He sneered back at her, and it was all she could do to keep from telling him what a fruitcake he had become over the years.
His determination to .nd any shred of evidence that he could procure against Khalid had become a running joke within the office. He refused to listen to reason, refused to see that there was nothing to tie Khalid to any terrorist. Except those that her godfa?ther had him secretly meeting with.