Andre Lavin lives life in the fast lane and the pampered Italian playboy isn't used to being denied. Anything. Which makes his attraction to the shy, hauntingly beautiful Cassandra Michaels even more frustrating. She's unimpressed by his flashy lifestyle and his every attempt to get closer seems to drive her further away. Until he overhears her whispered wish for sex lessons.
In Casey's experience, rich, handsome men don't fall for girls like her, but there's nothing to stop her from enjoying a fling. All she needs is one night to find out what she's been missing and then she can go back to her boring, predictable life. One night to touch and be touched, and she can leave with her heart intact.
Or can she? Because although Andre is more than ready to teach her anything she asks, he isn't willing to let her go.
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November 13, 2009
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Excerpt from Asking for Andre by Minx Malone
"You need to have a fling."
Casey Michaels grinned and picked up her headset. She'd been working as a receptionist at the Mirage Advertising Agency for three months now and as cheesy as it was, she felt she'd finally found home. She could wear business-casual attire, she had plenty of free time to do the assigned reading for her online classes and the administrative assistant, Anya Petrova, was quickly becoming her best friend.
Her only friend actually.
"A fling is the last thing I need. I said I was lonely, not slutty." Casey adjusted the headset and pulled her chair closer to the desk. Recently she'd been given some administrative duties assisting some of the executives in the afternoon while a temp covered the phones. It was a chance for her to work on some interesting projects and gain experience for her resume. It also gave her a much-needed break from the tedium of being stuck behind the reception desk.
"Having a fling does not make you slutty. Having a fling with a loser makes you slutty." Anya fed another sheet into the fax machine. A second later there was a crunching sound and the paper came out the other side wrinkled and torn.
"Damn this place! I told Law we need a new fax machine." Anya grabbed the sheet of paper and crumpled it into a ball before throwing it in the trash can under the desk. "That man can't see what's right in front of his face."
Casey wisely chose not to comment. Anya had an on-again, off-again relationship with the owner, James Lawson, which caused her no end of frustration. From what Casey could tell, their boss was in love but Anya just wasn't ready to commit.
"Even if I was a fling kind of girl, there's no one for me to have a fling with. I'm not exactly Miss Popular."
Casey'd always been something of a loner but since moving to the nation's capital it had been even harder to meet new people. Most of her neighbors worked long hours. She only saw them in passing as they came to and from work. The people she saw at the grocery store and on the subway seemed to change daily.
It was such a stark contrast to the small Virginia town she'd come from where everyone knew each other and crime was almost nonexistent. The entire atmosphere of city life was different. When she'd first arrived she'd thought everyone was talking to themselves until she realized they all had tiny cellphone earpieces in. Some of the women in the office even wore those in the bathroom. Casey couldn't think of anyone she wanted to talk to that badly.
It was no wonder she had trouble fitting in.
Anya looked pointedly at the clock on the wall. "No one to have a fling with? That will not be a problem, trust me."
The doors to the agency opened again. The man who walked in wore a tailored, gray pinstriped suit with a black turtleneck. His black hair curled over his collar, the perfect complement to his thickly lashed gray eyes.
She sighed softly. Calling his eyes gray was like calling sunshine yellow. His eyes were sharp and penetrating, as shocking as a bolt of lightning. He was elegance personified, a woman's walking wet dream.
Andre Lavin was, quite simply, the best part of her day.
He pulled his cell phone from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, holding it up as if trying to get better reception. The move made his jacket ride up. All the blood left Casey's brain as he turned, giving her an award-winning view of his ass.
She gulped and looked away for a moment. What if he turned around and caught her staring? But like a homing magnet, her eyes were drawn back again and again.
God that man can wear a suit.
She licked her lips as her eyes roamed over his lean arms and broad shoulders. The same arms she imagined holding her down as his body powered over hers. The shoulders she hooked her legs over in her dreams every night. How many times had she woken in the early hours of the morning, damp with sweat, her breasts tight and aching? There were nights she could have cried from her desperate soul-stirring obsession.
Her eyes fluttered shut, her pulse racing in anticipation, her panties damp from the erotic images her brain couldn't hold back. It was useless thinking of him this way, the worst form of torture her sick mind could conjure. There were few things more futile than imagining the most amazing sex she'd never get to have.
When she opened her eyes again, Andre stood directly in front of the reception desk.
"Mr. Lavin!" She jumped to her feet. Her headset flew off, knocking over a small container of pens on the counter. They rolled in every direction, a few falling over the far edge where he was standing.
She raced around the desk and scrambled to collect the mess. As she snatched the last offender from near his foot, she looked up. Her position put her directly in line with his crotch. She was hardly an expert but whatever was behind that zipper looked big enough to do some damage.
"Oh dear god." Her voice was barely above a whisper but he must have heard because he made a choking sound that could have been laughter. She glanced at him warily, to find him watching her, his eyes stormy.
"This is quite a welcome, Cassandra". He hesitated before extending his hand to help her up, his eyes roaming over her in a way that made Casey shiver.